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Poetry submissions by Christian Gilmer

a man is a man is a man.

There is a man
And he is standing in all the wrong places
Mumbling the wrong words, contorting his face into all the wrong forms
filling his mind with thoughts impure and unsound
and he stands there all alone
in the wrong places
sleeping inside of himself because it’s the only place he can call home these days
and you haven’t seen him in 3 years or so
seen who? Not really too sure
as he stands there all alone
in the wrong places

there is a man
and he moves so freely
finding himself just where he wants to be
he breathes deeply, thinks openly, lives fearlessly
but he drowns in a sea of blank faces
moving freely and ending up right where he means to but it all feels so hollow
and he’ll see us all again on the other side
as he wanders all alone
to feel solid and whole

farewell to the masterpiece.

take me before you lose me
before I lose myself in the wrong place at the right time
flame comes to common ground with earth and I melt away just in case I say something out of line
I told you to take me before you lost me
And now I’m lost again in myself, trembling like a young one far too innocent to know when to close the door
Shriek you masterpiece, scream and writhe and twist all about with peeling eyes while I stay here
Hidden in the back of the drawer next to Kodak moments and the lingering musk of dignity lost
Racing home in an eclectic Silverado under the great and chivalrous flying giant
Lights in but tuned out
We talk the same but don’t say the same words, feel the same but I can see a face changing when words are spoken
And the seasons roll on towards an end with no end
What were once vices are now habits
Pump the poison, apologies scribbled from head to toe when I found myself at the dark end of the street
Take me as you left me
Reach out with your quivering hand and hang on with irresolution
We were never ready, our money no good
No clout, no scrote
And without doubt I hang on to the hope
That you’ll take me as you left me,
As the seasons roll on towards an end with no end

Gray matter tackle box.
How could I forget
Where the rats with their keen moustaches used to hang out by that old elementary school everyone thought was so spectacular
A big green swing set giving wings to the young ones with the big ideas and too much to say
Worries were a thing of days past because those days past were so few
But here we are sitting
Washing the dirt off from behind our ears and laying our heads down for one more good night’s sleep
And here we are
And isn’t it beautiful how we all just fit here
Smaller pieces to a grander scheme
Inspecting those big ideas of the good-for-nothings
Tip-toeing over the finer details
And I am the prince of this palace the sun
And I am the narcissistic king of the earth
And I am the perceiver of infinity
Impossibility and inconsistency
And I am the prince of this palace the sun
And I am the narcissistic king of the earth
And I am the nervous son of this place
And I am the fine knower of the finite problems that we do stumble over
But mightily we do so triumphant and
Here we are
And there you are
How could I forget

I’ve had some greetings and some farewells but nothing like this.

Hello you
Standing softly waiting for the crash of earth and wind
Hello you
Walls built and windows snap thrash crash and slam against your psyche with the force of the days you had to walk away
Hello you
And there I’ll be on the peak of the rolling hills with a joint rolled and 1,001 stories untold of better days
To see you smile and to hear you laugh and to see your nose wrinkle in ecstasy
Hello you
I haven’t seen your face around these parts for a while
Hello stranger
Who I used to sing songs with and talk about the creaky floorboards in our old place that we tried to call home
Hello stranger
Goodbye you

the other side.

Take a walk on the wild side
Garnish it with a sprinkle of experience
Only to fuck in dreams and float through days one by one by one and so it goes
Live to score, sly handshakes and heads spin
Kicked back floating through days one by one by one
Living smoke to smoke, laugh to laugh
“no Bueno” says the mirror walker, and over there I hear her whispering “mas drogas” with blonde tension and sunken moan
Never mind that, let the road take a beating for a few hours while I screw my head on straight
I seek solitude from craving but find habit more inviting than change
And in a circle it goes again, oh yes
Hear, it goes again for this night and the one before and the next one and so on and so on
so it goes until something grand throws itself into being and with it brings purpose
oh boy, how things have changed
better or worse, just the same because here we still rest and here we lay our heads to try to find a kinder vision to calm us in the vicious eventide
Good night,
And good luck