Shawn L. Bird

Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.

poem-powerless April 16, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:46 pm
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I weep

for the fools who believe lies and hand power

to the deceivers, whose actions cry, “Destroy

me, please!  Give

me, me, me what you promise!”

and then blame those

who try to keep giants from grinding fools into the ground,

while fools bless them for the feet

upon their heads.

 

poem- lying to yourself September 1, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 6:49 pm
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You make it

so

inside your head.

Convince yourself

you’re right

and true.

Ask for advice,

but

debate each position

deny each observation

sputter

rant

and grumble about lack of support.

If you don’t want

to hear,

don’t ask.

If you won’t consider

perspectives,

don’t request them.

If you only want approval,

just say,

“Aren’t I great!”

and don’t be surprised

by silence.

 

poem-inaccurate January 31, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:37 am
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You hear a story

and cling to this narrative,

gripping each element as deep truth

fundamental reality

excuse for your frailty

But it’s fiction

and no matter how loudly you shout

your warped interpretation

insist that white is black,

it won’t transform into fact.

It will only dance to a rhythm of jack boots,

and the sounds of breaking glass.

 

poem-circled July 15, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:11 pm
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Once pain and loneliness was devoured

in hamburgers, milkshakes, and pasta.

But she wanted love, and she imagined

love came to the lithe more easily.

So she huffed and puffed and starved and carved

batted her eyes and bagged a boy.

But life means sacrifice and imperfection

and lack of twenty four hour adoration were devoured

in grilled cheese sandwiches, chocolate and pies,

until her perfect image was compromised by

becoming oversized.  Never her fault of course,

bilious and blaming others for her bitterness

She huffed and puffed and starved and carved

and when the right size was realized, and devised an escape,

climbed into bed after bed until one was willing to buy

more permanent access: a perfect lie.

Objective achieved once more bilious gases expand

The desperate, devouring girl pretends to have fun,

a reality show with an audience that’s blind and dumb.

Whatever the  social media illusion that feeds our delusion,

eventually we must face the conclusion of our own prostitution.

What do we sell ourselves for?

 

 

 

poem- whispered January 12, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:45 pm
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Whatever she wishes

fictitious fantasies unfold,

so long as she keeps the secrets.

Shhh.

 

poem- haunted August 21, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:56 am
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I have seen her haunted eyes.

You might have believed you’d fooled the world,

but her sad brown eyes told the story long before

your confession.

 

poem- uh? excuse me? May 30, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:55 am
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This is a trifle awkward

um

I’m really sorry to bother you

cough

but it’s kind of important

uh

that you do what you were hired to do.

so

if you wouldn’t mind, I’d appreciate it

ah

if you would follow through?

.

.

.

Canadian approach to slow contractors, agents, students, etc.  lol  Why are we so gentle?

(Okay- weird thing- just reading this as it’s published and noticed every second long line rhymes.  That was a complete accident.  lol   )

 

poem-then love April 29, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:24 am
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I told you

I’d love you forever

You told me you loved me

and we’d be friends forever.

I meant every deluded nuance.

You figured optimism works out

but you also said you couldn’t answer

to what would happen if I snuck into your room

and you woke to my face hovering above you.

That intriguing notion made me giggle at the joke.

But you kept your door locked, just in case.

Did you hear the door knob rattle?

Then the plane took off,

without me hiding in your luggage

as you’d suggested I could.

Our next phone call clarified

the kindness of lies.

and the length reality stretches

to cling to an illusion.

I’ve been grateful for

the elasticity of spurious delusion

every day of my life.

I craft my reality in my imagination:

You are whoever I make you to be.

Do I cover you with armour?

Compel piano mastery?

Some loves last through time:

mythical love need not be mocked.

What you hear, is never what truly was.

It’s what was crafted to tell the tale that needed to be told.

You are a character in the love story,

and I can always kill you off in

literary impunity.

.

Shape poem of a chess piece.  Clear?  Metaphor of the game.  Get it?

 

poem-vicious October 26, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:57 pm
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Gathering evil intentions

Hell hath no fury

for 

what will people say

behind your back?

Consent.

Safe words.

He said.

She said.

You’re high on a pedestal

Scorned lovers

can be vicious,

Even if they’re crazy.

It’s not the falling off

the tall pillar that hurts,

it’s the sudden stop

at the

end.

 

 

 

 

poem-echo September 6, 2014

Filed under: Poetry,Teaching — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:25 am
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These words

are echoes of all

the words you’ve said before

and they still

hurt my ears.

 

 
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