Archive for the Michael Grover Category

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

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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
Insignificant
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

____________

Cancer

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
Cancer
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