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Unplugged

Fragile rhythms

ghostly rigid taps

juke yesterday’s yarns

eager

 

Itchy voices hum French untruths in Belgium homes built under heaven 

 

Nothingness breathes toxic visions colored red in black type written code

 

Electric or not

relicts collect dust with words lost once cried

 

Echoes of humming raps and taps

breathe French love lost over Belgium waffles with too much syrup

and not enough butter

 

Killing her under inches hung from idiot’s thoughtless ink

useless

 

Keep those days unplugged

and packed in attics

 

Burn tissues of old tears spent on breakfast in Belgium

 

Why’s yearn unearths ghosts in ugly ice cubes melting

 

Back in the freezer

back in the box

burn the old relict

because you can’t leave the attic door closed

 

Stop the torture 

today’s words fall dead on yesterday’s waffles

 

It isn’t your fault

 

Buy an Apple and move on 

Smith Corona is dead

don’t resurrect old tools

the words are the same

powerless unless understood 

buttered or not

 

Waffle House opens at dawn

they have some new Russian waitresses with Droids

the butter is free

 

 

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15 thoughts on “Unplugged

  1. today’s words fall dead on yesterday’s waffles

    haha the butter is free…i like that line…droids, are you sure these are the droids we are looking for? smiles.

    i dunno i kinda like the sound of the typewriter…

  2. A tour d’force, Henry. Playful with grim overtones, more than a hint of dissipation and decadence… oh belgium, waffles, the verbiage we can’t silence. I love how you just leap off the balconies of thought, one to another, not trying for coherence and tidiness… Itchy voices hum French untruths in Belgium homes built under heaven !!!! xxj http://parolavivace.blogspot.com

  3. keep those days unplugged and packed in attics…love this..and love your long, rhythmic lines like..
    Itchy voices hum French untruths in Belgium homes built under heaven ..and…
    Nothingness breathes toxic visions colored red in black type written code..ha..and playful close..really like this henry…with greetings from brighton..

  4. hedgewitch says:

    Late getting here Henry but glad I made it. This is eloquent and seems random at the same time, like the old saw about a roomful of monkeys typing out Shakespeare–as if the images float in a sea of paper and come bobbing up as little associated groups of words. I enjoyed this,each little killer phrase by phrase, juking the yarn. Last stanza is a filling breakfast of irony.

  5. Henry I enjoyed the playfulness you layered into this, proof that words will always transcend time in my opinion. Your use of “relict” a great example of how subtly you dance with your words. Wonderful write and thank you my friend for your kind comments on my work, its a great pleasure to share in poetry! ~ Rose

  6. Henry…this is outstanding! The language is absolutely liquid. Smooth flowing and beautiful…I mourn for my old beast…but then, I mourn for many things! 😉 Just fantastic!

  7. When I saw unplugeed at the bottom as the title of the earlier posts, I was thinking this is about and instrument — so initially seemed like switch and bait (just joking) until I saw the first line — and that very musical first stanza. Very well done!!!

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