20 Poems About Nothing
20 poems about nothing
By Anthony Barbaria
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Copyright 2013 Anthony Barbaria
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Poem number One.
Sincere laughs in the dark
I look up at the night sky and see that there is no yellow in that dark blue abyss
Sometimes I think that it is just beyond the horizon
I know better
The Dawn seeks to shatter the dream
Breaking the dark canvas with shades of orange
Yellow is upon us
Tonight I will miss it
Tonight I will be sincere
Tonight I will laugh until it is light
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Poem number two.
Cracked in the skull
Bludgeoned on the crown
Split hair and slit skin
The flesh tears so easily
Age has turned skin into paper
Why not waste it?
Write a novel on it?
To some, there is no use, but to cover it all up
To wear cloth and gauze
To give blindness to the canvas
Ink is the cure
Make the living page jump
No one will notice the cracks in the skull
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Poem number three
Delighted
Jumping through the glass
A window shatters
Shards go everywhere
Someone slips on a wet patch
Blood soaks through your socks
Toes bend in agony
The outside is so nice
On display for so long
A mannequin no more
Delighted to be dripping in blood
Delighted it is your own
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Poem number four
Time is a joke
In essence
The world is slipping away
Time has wound us around its finger
Constricting to fit in
The world has set a standard
We must live in that standard
To break free
To mix eventuality and what has been
It is a cocktail waiting to be unleashed
To step outside of reality
To create a new series of events
Time can be constrained to our demands
Let the new world order be noise
Noise of a million clocks ticking in reverse
Time is on no one’s side
Let it be a joke
Give a jolly chuckle for time
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Poem number Five
Senseless Vanity
Mirrors are like the voices of the crowd
Joined together in rude comments and snide remarks
No one likes what they see in the mirror
It is not natural
It is a backwards lie
The hairs that twist in the wrong direction
The skin that spots and the zits that pop
Rude people can have such an awful effect on what is in the mirror
Body types are wrong
The wrinkles are like fault lines
And the trembling lips are dry
There is no way to chase down beauty
It is all senseless vanity
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Poem number six.
Wood
Fences, Boats and rotted planks
The floor boards of a house
The drink tokens at a bar
A carriage drawn by horses
Fake Nickels in a jar
Skateboards and crates
Filled with wrapped cigars
Paper and Toys
Numbered Blocks
Crosses engraved
On a large pine box
…Wood
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Poem number seven
Art Beckons
Baseball
Football
Hockey
Silence
Films about sadness
Songs about love
Pictures in a frame
Sports are all done
Art Beckons
The sorrow and the sun
Light and dark
Rays of color
Hues delight
So much more to see
Art Beckons
Art beckons me
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Poem number eight
Plastic Life
Limbs are stiff
Rigid with a fake quality
A toy doll
An action figurine
It is a great facsimile
A fun toy
That is the way to think of it
Sometimes you have to look away
This flesh is not real
Bury the casket
And weep no more
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Poem number nine
Takeout
Chow Mein dangles from her mouth
The smell of oyster sauce fills the room
Beef and broccoli
Shrimp and Walnuts
You grasp the chopsticks in your hand
She dips her egg roll
Sweet and Sour
The way love should be
Sour and sweet
You look into her eyes
Loving stares as you unwrap the cookie
What is your fortune?
Takeout for two
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Poem number ten
Buzz Off
In your face
Twenty-four seven
Make it stop
And the ads keep coming
On the television
On your phone
In the windows of the store
Buy and sell
Freedom to purchase
Spend your dollars
It is a wonderful world
Dollars and cents
From trees and ore
Spend the Earth from your wallet
Forget about the bees
Buzz Off
Who needs money?
When no one can breathe
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Poem number eleven
Socks
Warm and toasty
Old and smelly
Fresh from the dryer
Socks
On your appendages
The ones called feet
Do you like to wear your socks?
Paired together
Degrading into lint
Some are wool
Darn them again
Fixed until next time
Will they get lost?
On the floor of the Laundromat
In the basket of a stranger
Will you wear them out?
Black for dress
White for sport
Nice patterns for work
Do you mix them up?
Or is there no room for divorce with socks?
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Poem number twelve
School ties
A slender touch
Thin fingers on a frail arm
Someone holds them tightly
The boy laughs
He feels so much power
Maybe he is scared?
Maybe he is scarred?
&n
bsp; His buddies hold the frail boy against the wall
Fist swing
They take turns
There is no blood
There is some bruising
This is scheduled
This is regular
It happens
It is daily
It is just?
School ties
Alma matters not
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Poem number thirteen
Jump
Flipping great
Things are wonderful
She said yes
She loves me
Jump
Jump in the middle of the library
Books and tables
You watch me trip
Down goes the book cart
I blush and sprain my ankle simultaneously
She said yes
She loves me
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Poem number fourteen
Swindle
Pay out of pocket
Give me your money and I’ll give you a future
The lessons I have are available nowhere else
How thin is your wallet?
It needs to go on a diet
I’ll make you happy
This is just what you need
We have what you want
Come to us and be free
Just hand over your dollars
I will keep them warm
Just be happy
I won’t deceive you
You will not feel swindled
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Poem number fifteen
Blast
Sounds of an explosion fill the air
Something blew up
A bright flash in the night
All the power is out now
It is late, but I need my television
Now I cannot even see a book
Somewhere there never was any power
I do not understand
I am sheltered by it
Imagine no electricity
Some pander for it
I pander for a luxury
Others pander for food
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Poem number sixteen
Moo
Bleached bones in the dirt
Silence looms as I enter the barn
The piles of hay
I grab a bail
All smiles and cheer
I enter the feeding area
A long moo followed by another
A thousand moos
Maybe just thirty
I break the bail
Spread hay throughout the trough
Silence start
The Cattle feed
I walk away
I fed the meat
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Poem number seventeen
Silence like a scream
The things I never want to do
I do them routinely
The job from hell
The way I listen to you babble
The way I want to kiss your lips
I hear your words and feel your breathe
The way I never want to run
While the others make me flee
I fill my skull with madness
Silent like a scream
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Poem number eighteen
Epiphany
Just shut your mind
Things come into realization
You want to believe you can do anything
You can
I believe in the epiphany
That all-time great idea
The one that brings itself to life
You do not need to dream any more
This is the dream
The execution of the idea
The form from thought
Solid
Make it real
Blessed with new insight
Take control of it
Tame it
Now, make it wild
Understanding the meaning
It is your epiphany
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Poem number nineteen
Paint
Crusty tubes with the cap stuck on so tight
You wrench them open like jars from the fridge
Ideas slide out in primary colors
Where will your secondary thoughts lead you?
This is a tertiary world
A wheel turns in your skull
A creative flow streams from your consciousness
Forming lines and strokes from a brush
You feel the bits of paint, like flesh on your fingertips
Layers of thought brought into reality
The world of the mind merges with tangible elements
Is this proof of the soul?
A painter’s church is a studio
Where life is created
Every stroke is immaculate
Every wash a baptism
This is the medley of life
Vision and creativity meshed with flesh and blood
Frustrated fragments
Bits of illusion
Much like religion
You need to see the light
The painters hand forms a fist
Then grasp another brush
Heaven is never finished
And hell is in the process
Of criticized love
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Poem number twenty
The Truck
I’ve followed you from my youth
You are the hero that I look up to
I know that you are not real
But, then I met you
You were so much like I imagined
Genuine and true
I thank you for believing
In those who believed in you
I watched a mother cry
You were a hero to her dying son
You existed in cellulose
And now you are flesh and blood
As adult hood sets in
Many forget to dream
The stories of our childhood
Form the men we’ve been
Some hazards are trotted
As we learn to grow
But some shine through
In the thick of it all
So simple it seems
Just to sell a toy
You knew there was more
So stoic you employed
The best of your brother
Who you gave much respect
And you did not deter
From giving your best
They tried to kill you off
The masses did cry
But then you came back
You reclaimed your Prime.
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BONUS POEM
Curbs and ledges
The itch to ride
So sweet is that curb
You see that ledge
I get the urge
To barge at will
coping under my trucks
I can grind that planter
I can Ollie that bush
I touch the edge
As I grab Indy and fly
The sound of wheels on concrete
Fill up the night
Masonite burns
And road rash delight
It hurts so good
But I get back on tonight
My shins are dented
My calves are strong
A pool waits
At an abandoned house
We will skate until dark
Or someone chases us out.