Tim Barrus Blog
Posts tagged with poetry
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Another Night of Whores
the fuckbucket slinks around the block not unlike the tongues of midnight in ten thousand of them creep along the sidewalks, too if only i could steal myself free of some trick’s eating of my ass i would do it like a tyrant’s vein so blue in temperament all that’s…
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Toilet PoetryBoy & His Writing Instrument
We can always hear him talking to his phone. If they had not created what we call poetry, Jarred would have invented it First, he talks into the phone. Then, he writes the poem. He usually rewrites that. All on the phone. The toilet itself absorbs him. He does the…
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Behind the Smokescreen
out of all the places you could have flown 2 in order to hide like addiction butcher ciggs are an addiction too you supposedly can see me but I supposedly cannot see you when in fact, it’s the other way around the glasses are from walgreens https://tim-barrus.format.com/about
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skid marks
now that dna has shifted will religion follow kinda like skid marks no one thinks so either god will get along in his holy way to the glory holes and shifts again i wore a knife to school packed in my motorcycle boots i would slit a few necks well…
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THE AIR AROUND HIM IS STRANGE
https://tim-barrus.format.com/about #ART #PhotographicArt #SmashStreet #poetry
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The Poetry of Billy the Kid
billy the kid speaks/ he realizes he has nothing to say, just duh, billy does not do well out in the real world he was a fuckin’ inward kinda guy, actually, they broke into that house, there was a pool there, and for an hour they owned it, billy the…
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A Million of You to Pieces
following the ancestors of modern human beings into the distant past not too distant but distant enough/ raises the question of what is meant by the word homo erectus the cousin of homo tinydickitus/ human. H. sapiens is human by definition/ always a liability/ whereas homo erecticians are not licensed…
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All the Little Pieces Back Together Again
it means safe from being hunted down by cops it means safe from living in a space where rape is rampant it means safe from the demands of the school you quit it means safe to try having friends it means safe to express yourself it means safe from malnutrition…
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the waffle house poems
i knew he’d be in there he was he was wanted by the cops for shoplifting at fifteen, he had avoided all the traps the hoodie obfuscated his face from the cameras his tongue was not much given to a torrent of words maybe you might get one word grunts…
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I HAVE ALWAYS KEPT YOU OUT OF IT
because i do not want to deal with your anger i used to be able to ignore it too many sleeping bags ago every story has a twin or a thousand of them we never even once fucked on a bed keeping our fantasies grounded it was about your ass…
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the inevitable fall
in the beginning, it was about your ass your sweat how your ass leaked you even on the sidewalk a trickle of you your pants soaked what the fuck we ALL fall every last one of us falls never show them pain get up fast grab the board they are…
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they’re always watching
so, it’s all a mystery what suits and straight people see is sex because that is what they always see they are predictable/ some straight guys like to watch us because they find it titillating/ not in a sexual way, but just in amazement/ it is like watching a train…
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Most of the Men In My Small World Are Bisexual – Straight Men All Transient Come and Go
questo amore contorto così com’è rinvigorito teso magro appena abbastanza merda buco capelli
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Tricks and Trees
walking through the hemlock night what hangs by threads and the in between/ tailworn more dead than alive doUgotit doUgotit doUgotit/// the hinges and the drop dead year the night had arms and the trees of fear scratched chicken claw scratches on the scrabble ground gathers up the glasses of…
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A Guy in the Squat called the Cops
The guy who called the cops had a gun and started shooting it inside the squat. Crazies are the pageantry of nobody’s home. I hope the cops busted his white ass. We were gone by then. Vagrancy is an able seaman.
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U R
u r not some shallow dumpster dive u r not trash u r not what mom and dad tell u what u might b u r not grace u r not above it all u r not stupid u r not some teacher’s prejudice u r not always strong u…
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sleeping on the floor
there is a cement brick embedded in my back we often sleep in empty rooms where we have slept before the sunlight slipping in like dust is an old story to the likes of us no furniture no computers just our phones no future no dreams no relief from sleeping…