The Science, Music, Poetry and Productions of Matthew Putman - Matthew Putman - Poems http://matthewcputman.com/blog.html Matthew Putman: Poems Jannis' PHPRss class - http://www.jannis.to/ Fri, 23 Mar 2012 14:21:32 -0700 H to O http://matthewcputman.com/blog.html/h_to_o No idea where the old thought  came from.


Over the puddle between Sackett and Henry or cool pacific waters


Where dolphins greet and pose and I play


By sucking down live oysters, and dead dreams.


I wonder who holds the key to harnessing the wind


The proven bedrock of  hope


In arm and ages where


Misunderstanding becomes miseries


Millimeters become miles.


We are indeed in America


And I reside on another body


Of land


Lies


Literature


Lucidity.


Laughing as the tide goes out, and the empty shells stay


Locked on a sandy shore of silicates and simplicity.


 

]]> http://matthewcputman.com/blog.html/h_to_o Fri, 23 Mar 2012 14:21:31 -0700 The Science, Music, Poetry and Productions of Matthew Putman - Matthew Putman - Poems Trauma To Be http://matthewcputman.com/blog.html/trauma_to_be  


Don’t stop me screener for the
perfume I bought for her?
You extinguish synaptic fires with fears of terror
in an age of enlightened blight and lost bliss.
Bargaining you saw your generation
unlike mine of the sober and suicidal
trying too hard to break commercial malaise
which Google did nothing to satisfy
and spotting myself too many times
on small screens straining my eyes.

Seeing you too little breaks me.
Where implants of pride and prejudice
a warrior of peace when I cling
onto your skirt and pull.

The moment dissipates into the sea of sky
beyond the midwest winters
where mars looks with looming at a love set to last.

 


 

]]> http://matthewcputman.com/blog.html/trauma_to_be Sun, 29 Jan 2012 12:20:33 -0800 The Science, Music, Poetry and Productions of Matthew Putman - Matthew Putman - Poems Wishing Well http://matthewcputman.com/blog.html/wishing_well

Whose time did we borrow to be living a little longer?


Traps are made of statements of sadness


when grief gets in it too late for us to escape.




Just a narrow corridor in the mansion


of the recurring nightmare of a playful child


lost and alone.




I would like to find the lender to see what he is offering


and at what interest rate.


For anything higher would break me


 pandering in the street for hours


by Popeye's Chicken, pulling at Wishbones


with my girl who slides seamlessly


from one book to another and I


just stare at the rush of traffic and hold out my hand for a cab.




We sometimes wore ribbons


now rubber around our wrists


for fashion.


When Struggle is an elastic strap around the


inner arm that is too tight, and the blood too light?


Too White?




Those snow colored dreams


during the day are only dark shadows


of binary equivalence.


We are more light than pigment.


More porous than paste.




We vacuum our symptoms


to relate to wine, women


and wanting of regular fears, not mortal ones.




Don’t ruin more plots with love affairs tainted by jealousy,


or a mortgage backed security.


Don’t ride in that old Beemer and pretend it is new.




One day the dry drain from our faces will not be sorrow or fear


but emptiness.


Where Buddhists can boast and we do nothing again


and again


and again


for never to come.


]]> http://matthewcputman.com/blog.html/wishing_well Sat, 07 Jan 2012 19:55:48 -0800 The Science, Music, Poetry and Productions of Matthew Putman - Matthew Putman - Poems The Lonely Grave http://matthewcputman.com/blog.html/the_lonely_grave  


Beggars and Bribers mix only
at celebrity book bashes
and on beaches
bombed by old wars
and new money.

Weakness waxes
the sculptures made
for Posterity of Prosperity
of charity for charming
A girl just now
a woman for only  two years more.

The savior of the world
stays the martyr of risk
but not now.
Where rewards are write-offs
and wealth wasted
when no blood is shed

In New York or Nice anymore.

 


 

]]> http://matthewcputman.com/blog.html/the_lonely_grave Thu, 29 Dec 2011 18:22:59 -0800 The Science, Music, Poetry and Productions of Matthew Putman - Matthew Putman - Poems Time Bomb http://matthewcputman.com/blog.html/time_bomb as the atrium fills
with second rounds of soy whipped coffee.

Relatives, relative to myself
in relation to a fixed point in midlife
when tears come slower
only from Valium
and repression
and fantasies of my infant to cuddle
and deals to make
and fears of debts to pay.

Time lines disturbed by drenched coats in December
where the sun shines only long enough
to burn rods, cones and panic.

8:57 now.
Only unknown minutes of watching and waiting
to see the next storm of uncertainty
creep through the buildings of Park Avenue.

Why Is my coffee still hot?
Why is my pulse still fast?

Motion control is malfunctioning on a broken boy near 40.]]> http://matthewcputman.com/blog.html/time_bomb Fri, 16 Dec 2011 11:31:23 -0800 The Science, Music, Poetry and Productions of Matthew Putman - Matthew Putman - Poems Crossing With Juliette http://matthewcputman.com/blog.html/crossing_with_juliette  


The Battery Tunnel is a fast drive
for such a long and deep hole
as $6.50 drops drivers off
onto the sea of stifling congestion
coughing in the winds of anxiety
on the BQE East.

We  count LEDS of bright blue
so powerful that the tone
overhauls the loud horns and
the baby’s cry.

We marvel in glint and glow of something more perfect
than we can explain.

The world gets small in that moment
before Manhattan
pops with purposefulness
posing for us.

A picture of the 1%,
while we stop our song
blink our eyes
and wait for the next game of life.

 


 

]]> http://matthewcputman.com/blog.html/crossing_with_juliette Sat, 10 Dec 2011 16:45:00 -0800 The Science, Music, Poetry and Productions of Matthew Putman - Matthew Putman - Poems On The Bumpy Street http://matthewcputman.com/blog.html/on_the_bumpy_street  


In the state of Cobble Hill, the slopes look
ravished, and vacant,
as the poor poured from them
20 years ago.
When squirrels moved in, the sparrows out, and on time
I spent a million hours on bar-stools,
watching as old men with cigarettes cross cut
into bearded gentleman of a one novel success,
or perhaps a life long ago, last year
on Wall Street.
Where songs are heard by birds, not bums,
whose streets still cobble
for name only.
Shadows and mists of men long past, when
homo was horrible and hideous
was hidden from all but the lime of a dark artist light.
Violent memories made real. Multiplying babies,
brats, bottles of Craft Brew
reminiscences of jazz age sparks
the last gas light on Henry St..
Where I walk faster for the goal of reaching
myself, when one outnumbers 3
in crowds of ego that only boroughs
to the west could conquer, until
I am resting in the ground of the Local F train
or in Greenwood Cemetery.

 


 

]]> http://matthewcputman.com/blog.html/on_the_bumpy_street Wed, 09 Nov 2011 19:45:24 -0800 The Science, Music, Poetry and Productions of Matthew Putman - Matthew Putman - Poems The New World Again. http://matthewcputman.com/blog.html/the_new_world_again Why do you all look like I look but yet I am alone?
In Paris’s third I walk wordlessly through
a threshold downfall of foreign
comfort form and content
as I reach the Rue de Turenne.
Clothes of polyester line the streets,
while children play in cotton coolness
on a warm fall day, while I wait for assignment
To the trenches of a helpless, hopeful society
trapped in tea parties of today, and reminders
of stupidities yesterday that wasn't lost
but never existed.

We take a train,a bus or whatever moves us
with some lost song of that sorrowful groan
which isn’tpain, but instead knowledge
that this isn’t it.
It isnt’ shit.
It remains locked between the oceans of hope
whose endless blue utopias take us home.

]]> http://matthewcputman.com/blog.html/the_new_world_again Sat, 22 Oct 2011 07:12:31 -0700 The Science, Music, Poetry and Productions of Matthew Putman - Matthew Putman - Poems Bull's Eye http://matthewcputman.com/blog.html/bulls_eye Not many tears fell over Wall Street tonight.


Where occupiers pitched softballs of flower with no power


In brick buildings


coveted, covered and revealed a glow of painted murals


from partners past.


Where poets never sang or signed deals.


No darts of pain now in moments dissent and laughter


all too soft.


In desserts far away, tweets light up kings


while news flashes debacles of debates.


Failed plans.


False hopelessness.


When today comes warmer than remembered 


Colder to the touch.


Nowhere to occupy


only the tiny space between apathy and sorrow.

]]> http://matthewcputman.com/blog.html/bulls_eye Tue, 18 Oct 2011 18:43:42 -0700 The Science, Music, Poetry and Productions of Matthew Putman - Matthew Putman - Poems Riding a September Neutrino http://matthewcputman.com/blog.html/riding_a_september_neutrino In a subway I slept for 10 stops too many
on an F train waking at Ditmas to cramped, pungent,
pinched panic, as transfer from dreams of fights, fanatics and funerals, now
knocked unturned neurons on with activation energy of Red Bull intensities.

The stars were clouded, and 10 feet above to see anyway, as neutrinos tumbled past me, invisible, from the future, which I knew of only now.
When the mind numbs in color at the bending of times arrow, Brooklyn seems
like a vision of tomorrow, not just yesterday.

My baby boy cries out not for the last time
for me to pick him up from day care
or take him to college,
As together little Juliette and I skip through time, empty of now, containing only after and before.
Crinkled in a warp Einstein could not construct,
in an universe
more likely holographic than hollow.
When death was already a drag and life new and old.

The subway stops now at Carroll Street, sometime later, and waking up, I see a turn-style, where I used to place tokens, in a time still to come for some, and lost for me.
To catch a new world on the next F Train at midday
in a universe that never stops, but moves at speeds relative even to itself in a paradox of fortune, for the daydreamer of the afternoon commute.

]]> http://matthewcputman.com/blog.html/riding_a_september_neutrino Thu, 22 Sep 2011 19:57:24 -0700 The Science, Music, Poetry and Productions of Matthew Putman - Matthew Putman - Poems