LET PEOPLE POEMS

GOLD PAINT by Russ Woods

In honor of mothers day I want to share with you a fresh new beauty secret diet tip. In honor of mothers day I want to share with you a fresh new beauty secret diet tip that will make you loose thousands of weight just by breathing. Just by breathing. Are you breathing now?  Yes. Before I came up here I checked. You probably didn’t notice. I am so so very sneaky. In honor of mothers day I am being sneaky. Oprah Winfrey knows about this beauty secret diet tip but has been hoarding it for herself. Oprah Winfrey was determined to bring this beauty secret diet tip to her fucking grave. Oprah Winfrey has been trying to fuck us all over for years. Editors at O Magazine have lost their jobs. Editors at O Magazine have lost their families. Editors at O Magazine have begged to lose their lives but have not been allowed to, because it is a worse fate to grow old knowing you are on Oprah’s bad side. In honor of mothers day I will probably be tortured for telling you about this.

I have been gargling gold paint every day since I was six years old. Notice how my skin is glowing. Notice how obese I am not. Editors at O Magazine have tried to get this out. Editors at O Magazine know what I am talking about. I have been gargling gold paint every day since I was three years old. My mother knew about this, as it is an old Appalachian tradition from centuries ago. My mother knew about this because she is a Tibetan monk. My mother knew about this because she saw it written on the back of the declaration of independence. I have been gargling gold paint every day since I was a fucking zygote. I am so tan I can lay undetected by predators in the Serengeti. I am so toned I can choke a pony. In honor of mother’s day I would like to choke a pony onstage. This fresh new beauty secret diet tip will give you a stiffy. This fresh new beauty secret diet tip will henceforth be referred to as TFNBSDT. This is because the CIA. This is because the FBI. This is because the KGB. This is because the VCR. THEY ARE TAPING.

Soon the government will know how tan my skin is. Soon the government will know how fresh my locks are. Soon the government will know how slim and toned my body is. Soon the government will know how sad my feelings are. Soon the government will know about the pony. That pony was a government pony. The reason my feelings are sad is because that pony had no say in the matter. That pony was a pawn in a game he could never comprehend. That poor pony. It never asked to be a government pony. That pony wanted to grow up to be a folk singer. That pony listened to Arlo Guthrie records all day as a child, dreaming of one day growing up to be a folk singer. I have single-handedly crushed that pony’s dreams. This is what this fresh new beauty secret diet tip has done to me. I have gargled gold paint every day since I was a spermatozoa and I have crushed the dreams of an innocent pony. In honor of mothers day, this is what the government is doing to us. In honor of mother’s day, I would like to propose a coup.

Seven hundred million years ago the world was a better place. Seven hundred million years ago the rocks were going around so toned and tanned. Seven hundred million years ago we were stuck in a time loop. Seven hundred million years ago the earth was getting all mixed up. Seven hundred million years ago TFNBSDT was never even invented. Seven hundred million years ago a plant made a decision that set us on this path. In honor of mother’s day, I would like to say “fuck that plant.”  My skin is so toned and my muscles are so tanned and I was sent here to give you all a message. I am a sexy, sexy voice crying out in the wilderness. I am John the Baptist as played by Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. In honor of mother’s day I have filled eighty-seven water balloons with horse urine and hung them from the rafters. The JFK assassination was a dry run. In honor of mothers day eighty-seven horsepissballoons could drop at any goddamn minute don’t even fucking try me.

The editors at O magazine have sent me a message to give you all. The editors of O magazine sent secret operatives into my house to tattoo manifestos on my gums. The editors at O magazine want you to know that if they win this election we can all be saved. The editors of O magazine want you to know that if they win this election you won’t have to worry about the balloons. I have been gargling gold paint every day since I was my grandfather and I want you to know that we shall overcome. In honor of mother’s day the revolution will not be covered in horse piss. In honor of mother’s day the revolution is just around the corner. In honor of mother’s day, I would like to invite you all to look under your seats, where you will find the keys to a new version of yourself that your mother will like better. In honor of mother’s day, I’m sorry for all of this, please forget this ever happened.

I touch your shoulder and we are like rocks by Michael Swartz

They have taken my words from me

and left me with smoke-filled lungs,

sugar-coated tongues that cough and

breathe in even intervals.

Do they know how precious they are?

I hid

words in the ceiling, words under the rug,

some in my sock. I will not make it through

the metal detectors, the wands they wave

that sound like security and rain.

They have taken my words from me

and left me with nothing but holes

to be filled with vodka-infused whipped cream

and yellow-stained teeth.

Mouths sucking on spigots,

emptying out their spit into

containers to be weighed

and categorized by color and viscosity.

I am left without a soul and I have forgotten how to pray.

My head is like rocks and it is raining.

You say you like the smell of night

and my head is like raining.

These are not the words to be spoken at this moment

I mumble into an empty vase that was once

filled with flowers, while attempting to remember

how it was I touched God, how I fingered her flesh

in order to facilitate the second coming.

I am lost, I have forgotten the words

that had once led me to a place of solitude.

A face with a broken nose still has two lips

wishing to be kissed by someone kind.

I am left with (un)holes(some)

and I am empty. Too busy filling holes

to pour cement into my own.

I am tired, searching for the words

that I have built upon, building pyramids

in spaces where there was once nothing but sand.

I am tired, but there is no rest for the wicked,

and so my candle burns a soft light.

mystical creature

they started making out on her bed.

‘i want to have sex’ he said.

‘i don’t’ she said

‘why?’ he said

‘because i don’t like you like that’ she said

‘then why are we making out?’ he said

‘because i’ve always wanted to make out with a talking unicorn’ she said

‘god’ he said. ‘another girl with a fucking unicorn fetish.’

3 poems about nature by tang si

1

in the snow the river

i am gone now

what more

2

there is past a woods

i have left the world for good

it is beautiful

3

please i am north

untitled

lana has been entertaining suicidal thoughts. lana feels detached and dull while having these thoughts. they are completely unaccompanied by drama. lana has said ‘i love you’ to 2 boys in her life. the second time she was intoxicated in public and crying. 

lana has said ‘i love you’ to 2 boys in her life but has had 5 boys in her bed in the past 8 months. sometimes all that happened was sleep. lana closes her eyes and thinks, i wish i were dead, i don’t want anything that i could possibly have, i dont want another boyfriend, i dont want to sleep with someone and cry about it in the daytime, i don’t want to eat any more junk food, i don’t want to have a ‘good job,’ i dont want to drink too much and throw up, i don’t want to buy things and feel guilty, i don’t want to be responsible for anyone or anything, i don’t want anyone to feel sad about me.

in the dark lana lays on her stomach and hugs her pillow and thinks these things. lana does not feel like crying.

lana imagines a silvery translucent version of herself get up and leave.

PIZZA WIZARD by Russ Woods

HIGH ATOP THE PEAKS

OF CHEESY MOUNTAIN THERE

LIVES A WIZARD OF PIZZA WHOSE

STAFF CAN MANIFEST DELICIOUSNESS

LIKE THAT OF NONE YOU HAVE EVER

SEEN. DELICIOUS PIZZA FLOWS DOWN

THE STREETS LIKE RAIN. THE PEOPLE

OF THAT LAND HAVE HAD PROBLEMS

WALKING DOWN THE STREETS BECAUSE

IT’S WEIRD BECAUSE OF THE CHEESE

AND SAUCE AND SHIT. BUT THE PIZZA

WIZARD WILL NOT BE STOPPED. HE HAS

A MISSION OF DELICIOUSNESS AND

PIZZA THAT WILL CONQUER. FUCK.