Archive for the Michael Grover Category

Two poems by Michael Grover

Posted in Michael Grover with tags on November 15, 2019 by Scot

Killing Time

Morning coffee shop buzzing with Miles
Stop & wait between scan & doctor
People working on their computers
Woman checks her phone
Workers working
All buzzing like Miles buzzing
I’ve got a backpack full of words
& nothing but time to kill



Long Drive Home After Surgery

Mad faces in the sky
Tellin’ me everythings gonna be alright
Floating in the trees & clouds
Floating home

MLK Day Poem 2018 by Michael Grover

Posted in Michael Grover with tags on January 30, 2018 by Scot


(Every Poem is Illegal)

Did you ever think
It would be 2018
& we’d experience whitelash
From our first black president
& everything that went wrong
Would be blamed on him

Did you ever think
It would be 2018
& people would be from
Shithole countries that should be
On the other side of the wall
Yet to be built

It is two thousand eighteen
& people are beaten down
By the flagrant racism coming from the whitehouse
By the economic polices coming from the whitehouse
By the tweets coming from the whitehouse
By the endless perpetual Orwellian war coming from the whitehouse
By environmental polices coming from the whitehouse
By capitalism on crack coming from the whitehouse

Yet here we are
The times they are a changin’
Doin’ a backward goosestep
Doin’ a backward slow dance off a cliff
& we’re never gonna be the same again
We might not recognize ourselves tomorrow
Perfect for a Hollywood screen
Save the dramatic happy ending
Martin it’s been fifty years since you’ve gone
I know it like the year I was born
You and d.a. levy
Who just wanted a just World
It feels like the truth is illegal
That makes Poetry illegal
Some still do the dance
Talk real loud & say nothing
It’s all just talk these days
& those of us that do walk the walk
Walk slowly to our grave
I have cancer Martin
I’m not much of a fighter anymore
Too busy fighting to stay alive
I don’t even write that much anymore
You probably wouldn’t think we’ve made much progress
People are still people
All the racist people
All the anti-racist people
It’s still divide & conquer
It’s still law & order
It’s still real

A Message To Donald Trump #3 by Michael Grover

Posted in Michael Grover with tags , on November 26, 2016 by Scot


The neighbors across the street
Two men, I assume they’re together
Never really asked
Haven’t talked to them much,
But they’re always pleasant
Early evening they are usually
Drinking on the front porch
I haven’t seen them since the election
Only an american flag flying upside down
Next to Buddhist prayer flags

A Message For President Trump #2 by Michael Grover

Posted in Michael Grover with tags , on November 20, 2016 by Scot


Some of us are old enough to remember
What it’s like to have an actor as president
You must all say it’s gonna trickle down
Some of us are old enough to remember
In the trickle down reality gravity is reversed

A Message For President Trump by Michael Grover

Posted in Michael Grover with tags , on November 17, 2016 by Scot

Stayed up late last night
To watch fascism stroll in the door
I always knew it would get here some day
So I guess we have to live together for a minute
I’m quite sure the time will be short
There’s just one thing I want you to know
I have a dog, it’s half chihuahua
Neon yellow peace signs on his collar
He could be confused for a bad hombre
Ignore the hate behind your eyes
Set off by those psychedelic peace signs
Just treat us with love as you fuck us
As america has always done

Four Poems by Michael Grover

Posted in Michael Grover with tags on July 16, 2016 by Scot

I Have Walked Through Wars & Never Seen A Thingme reading
We are a culture of great wars
Seen nothing but war
For a very long time
Vietnam when I was born
We have never seen war
It is a far off place
& those that do go off to see it
Never come back the same
I don’t see much use for this war
Except to rally the troops at home
But what do I know
I am just a Poet in Toledo, Ohio
Watchin’ as the World burns
There’s a war on tv
But that’s not the real war
The real war he’s a tough son of bitch
Cold & hard as stone & steel
Too hard to show the real war
& the sacrifice it demands
I’ll be honest, I hope I never know war
I’ll be honest, war terrifies me
Like cops with lasers on their guns
That’s right, I am scared of war
I am scared of war
Like I am scared of cancer
Like I am scared of dying alone
Like I am scared of things that I cannot control
Things that control me
Like war
But I think it’s time I face these fears


All Of These Things Are Nothing

There are some days when cancer kicks my ass
There are no days when I kick cancers ass
Everyone tells me to fight cancer
What does that even mean
These days it’s a struggle to stay active
Little things like walk the dog
Or those dirty dishes are still in the sink
There are days I must push myself over the smallest hills
There are days that writing would be hard to pull off
This can last for days sometimes
I can go crazy going days without writing
Waiting for some kind of release
I am learning to be patient wait for it come back
I am learning to deal with cancer on the fly
It’s something I’ve never dealt with before
As is most of life I guess
Chewing you up & spitting you out
That cold, hard march toward death
& all around you your friends dying
Everybody dies
You start to see the truth
That it doesn’t matter
That purpose you were given by someone else
All of those purposes
That tug of pride you felt on nine-eleven
Or was that fear
Just watchin’ the tv
Thinkin’ it could be down the street
It was all nothing
Now it can’t be changed



Silent killer
Ticket to the death lottery
Slow painful death
You stir, you kill
Don’t need a reason
There is no reason
Unluck of the draw
Years of good poor livin’
Like we had a choice
Maybe the places we’ve seen
Things we could never unsee
Building up like a ball of negativity
I have seen too many eyes lost
There is no reason
Eyes that know you
Distant eyes
Every time I look in the mirror
Those eyes
At the treatment center
When I go in for a shot
So many lost eyes
There is no reason
I hear this god would never give you anything
That you cannot carry
I would like to have a talk with him
I don’t think he’s listening
He’s got an army of snake oil salesmen
He must just not care anymore


For The Outlaws
(For Doug Draime)

These modern outlaws
Busy patting themselves on the back
For that Poem they wrote years ago
Still rocks the crowd when they read it
Got nothin’ remotely controversial to say
But they’re oh so edgy
In fact they will tell you as quick as Laura Bush
as quick as the government
That there is no place for political Poetry
That there is no place for us Doug
I thought I watched you die unheard
Which would be an outrage
But I read your words tonight
It lit a spark
Which became this wildfire of a Poem
I know your fire will forever burn
I know we will keep that fire alive
Spread your name like wildfire
We will pass it on to the next generation
A message to the outlaws
We are an army
We will not be quiet
We will say what we want
When we want to say it
As Poets we are bound to the truth
No matter how dark that may be

Where Have The Outlaws Gone by Michael Grover

Posted in Michael Grover with tags on December 2, 2015 by Scot

(An eulogy for Doug Draime)

These modern outlaws
They run in packs of followers
They walk a hipster walk
Talk in smooth hipster code
Don’t need anything new
You’ve got the same old shit to stand on
Don’t need to say anything
When walking on eggshells not to offend
Don’t need fresh energy
Don’t need anything when it all means no thing

Meanwhile way out west
An old Wordslinger
Puts down his last Poem
He was humble & kind
He was crazy from genius & capitalism
He just let his words do the talking
& a tree fell in the forest
I heard it, I know people heard

I am sitting here getting older
Watching all of my friends die
I might be watching myself die
I have seen the best minds of my generation
Rotting in trailer parks
What have we done to ourselves
I have seen too much

I heard it over the outlaw chatter
They wonder if their deaths will be publicized
Terrified that few people will notice
Or even care

Two Poems by Michael Grover

Posted in Michael Grover with tags on October 30, 2014 by Scot

Confessions Of An american Outlaw #405
(Transmissions For KB)

People die unheard everyday
Let’s write their words on the stars
Poets die unheard every day
So let’s legalize levy
Writing police would find him
Put him back in his grave
& yes sometimes the law does get involved
Sometimes the nation gets involved
Mad people forgotten like ghosts
Dying a little more everyday
Dying from the mechanical noise
Dying from the chemicals
Dying from cancer we didn’t know we had
Dying a little more every day
As the big broom swoops down
To sweep us under the rug
Another dead poorman forgotten
Forgotten by the neon liquor store
Where he bought the vodka to calm his outrage
Another dead poorman forgotten

Confessions Of An american Outlaw #393
(Transmissions For The Collingwood Arts Center #2)

Jim says he’s been drinking a lot of wine
I tell him I’ve been drinking vodka and smoking marijuana
His face lights up Oh yeah, marijuana too
I’m glad Jim was fucked up at the meeting
When they gave us our thirty days
He was screaming how cold & heartless they were
& the lady in the mink coat just kept looking more scared
This is how we celebrate the death of our home
Drunk & stoned isolation
We celebrate this like a sacred thing
& the spirits dance
& the music plays
Tonight we celebrate the magic that is dying

The Art Of Violence by Michael Grover

Posted in Michael Grover with tags on October 8, 2013 by Scot

There is no Poetry in violence
There is no violence in Poetry
Violence is not Poetic
There is no beauty . . .

There is nothing in politics
Powertrips are empty delusion
Hell we’re Poets,
We should despise politicians
Always policing the grounds of something
Is nothing sacred
Little boys wantin’ to be men

Look away,
There is no beauty here to speak of
Only bitterness
There is no Poetry in this
Don’t write violently
Violence is not worth your time
Write viciously

Three Poems of Protest by Michael Grover

Posted in Michael Grover with tags , , on December 14, 2011 by Scot

Occupy My Head

I live in my own land
Sovereign from america & it’s nightmare dreams
I live in my own land
I’ll make the rules & enforce the law around here
I live in my own land
I am an ex patriot
I live in my own land
A beautiful World where there is music & psychedelic bliss
I live in my own land
Where Poetry matters
I live in my own head
Where Poetry won over the bars or TV again tonight
I live in my own head
I occupy it
Occupy my head
Tell me how I should think
Occupy my head
Tell me how I should feel
Occupy my head
Entertain me
Occupy my head
Tell me I’m depressed
Occupy my head
Give me some drugs
Occupy my head
Tell me I’ll stand & salute their flag & troops
Occupy my head
Genuflect to their god
Occupy my head
Just because they shove them down my throat


Note For The One Percent

With the Earth changing so quickly
What shall we call it
Some corporate name of the highest bidder
Or something more respectable
Like The Planet Earth
Maybe the void that life’s become
Tell me it has not become this meaningless

We can take it back
Straight from the jaws
Of the one percent
Dripping with blood
Our own blood
Our collective blood

You are feeding on us
I’m not saying anything
That you don’t already know
If I were really there
Telling you this
You vague shapeless person
You would call security


Coltrane Blowin’ In The Night

This room seems so peaceful
so chaotic

As outside in the streets
Boys are shooting boys
Carrying out a
Self fulfilling prophesy of genocide
As outside international turf wars play out
Just to prove
Who’s country has the biggest dick
& we are living in an illusion

As outside ego masturbation
Is better than hard work
It must be hard work to be them

As outside where cyber realities of illusion
Because it’s better than the real one

As inside this room is it’s own reality
As Coltrane blowin’ in the night