Opaque Window



  Opaque Window

  Written by Kurt Tyler Thompson

  Soapbox Publishing Retains all rights to Opaque Window

  [email protected]

  Copyright 2012

  All rights reserved under international and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. With the exception of brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, no part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without publishers consent.

  Trade Paperback Edition– 1-59408-273-X

  Printed in the United States of America

  Poetry at its peak performance- Newsweek

  An Amazing Read- New York Times

  The best book on financial decisions and relationships that you w ill ever read.

  – Forbes

  His words are worth their weight in gold- A guy I paid twenty dollars.

  If I could do it all over I would turn water into Kurt Thompson’s words.- Jesus Christ- Carpenter

  Table of Contents

  Forgotten

  Aliens

  Carcinogenic Love Poem

  An Ode To Homer

  Carpe Nochem

  Cyber

  Hospital Mornings

  Paper Cuts

  Darling

  My Answer

  She

  Hollywood Hypocrisy

  Sleep

  The Almighty Dirty Dollar

  Glass Houses

  Queen of the Clouds

  Forlorn

  Push

  Metal Monsters

  Goodbye

  Forgotten

  On the bus,

  I saw a man without legs to dance on;

  Listening to music

  Coming through enormous earphones strapped around his head

  He nodded a slight rhythm

  And tapped his crooked fingers on the seat cushions beside him

  Slow and steady

  I want to run

  I want to skip

  Jump

  Kick

  Squat

  With my two good legs--But I don’t

  When the cripple rolls off of the bus and back into the world

  A pretty young blonde takes his place

  I forgot my gift of limbs already.

  Aliens

  Rapid consumption of oil on a long midnight flight

  We’re closer than air particles in the dark sky

  Squeezing bits of single serving meat-loaf & parmesan encrusted tilapia into our mouths

  We don’t eat for necessity

  But

  Because we enjoy the motions

  We could fast for weeks without hunger

  She spills a glass of red wine, a Cabernet Sauvignon,

  With a whisper she apologizes

  I don’t have to clean it up,

  I explain

  I’m middle class now

  Leave that to the Mexicans, Ukrainians, Irish

  You know,

  Whatever race we exploit these days

  If Aliens land on earth today,

  We must not kill,

  Or experiment

  Instead,

  We will welcome them into the open arms of our work force

  With a menial but fair wage

  Carcinogenic Love Poem

  Sweetheart,

  I want to steal the pain

  The microwaves have inflicted you’re delicate skin

  Replace the harsh burn with cool, soft, kisses

  I don’t remember how hard it is to breathe this thick air

  To taste pollution with my open mouth

  Allowing it to infiltrate the structure of my tongue

  I’ve locked myself away,

  Inside this piece of modern architecture

  Avoiding an artificial earth that is no longer mothered

  Or cared for

  You’re sweet intelligence is remarkable,

  Unavoidable,

  Complete.

  Let us travel through hallways and frolic in bedrooms

  Make love atop plastic furniture

  I cannot cure cancer,

  My Iridescent rose petal

  I can however keep out all of the carcinogens

  That exists in this environment.

  An Ode to Homer

  Her auburn hair smells like fresh rain in the springtime,

  And tastes a bit sweet when it accidentally attacks my tongue

  She is soft

  I know all girls are soft and pretty

  With skin like teddy bears,

  But she is particularly soft

  I think she washes back with fabric softener

  Even in the morning her mouth feels clean

  Between the moment her eyes open and her first cup of coffee

  She has an awkward smile;

  Half awake

  Half intrigued

  All pissed off that the day has started so soon

  We speak like cross cultures

  Or

  Two completely different animals

  That somehow figured out how to mate

  She doesn’t enjoy good music

  Her favorite song is from The Blueprint

  And

  She hates the Simpson’s

  Well

  It was fun while it lasted

  It’s not that I make entire assumptions about who you are

  By what you watch,

  But if you cannot like the Simpson’s,

  Even a little,

  We will never be in love

  You’re sense of humor is obviously non-existent

  But we can still have sex

  Even a soft hand creates a hard slap.

  Carpe Nochem

  My dreams get considerably stranger as nights pass

  I intended to study these interesting images years prior-

  Alas,

  Not enough hours in the day to accomplish what happens at night

  My favorite coma involves vicious vampires and malicious sex

  Some crazy depiction of lust

  Either I attempt to escape the grasp of a Bram stoker character

  Or

  I am one of the beasts chasing down prey

  Occasionally,

  I know my hideous secret

  &

  Seduce women into my realm of darkness

  I often wonder why?

  I am a creature of the night?

  A member of the undead guild

  Do I miss the texture and taste of blood?

  That sweet elixir caressing my tender tongue

  Is it passion that I lack?

  Why these women?

  Do I lust after another?

  In the majority of horror films

  Vampires are depicted as those gross bloodsucking leaches

  Attaching themselves to a host

  Vampires are the evil enemy that eventually dies by the hand of a handsome hero

  I am vain without vanity

  It shall continue to be a mystery of darkness-

  Carpe Nochem, (seize the night)

  Cyber

  Blame is personified until it becomes almost human

  Like Frankenstein,

  Or Karl Rove

  We watch while mud is slung over dirty shoulders

  Never stopping to imagine a clean race without slander

  Don’t worry soap is available

  It’s just difficult to disinfect moral conundrums,

  Scandals,

  Affairs,

  Etcetera,

  Etcetera,

  Personified blame creeps and crawls until

  A target is somehow acquired

  Whether it be the cinema

  The video game industry

  Some random war that we are either in or out of

>   Then it roars as loud as possible

  It rips and tears with vicious claws

  Until the blood is as prevalent as rain water

  Hospital Mornings

  Let me sleep

  Take my vitals later

  It’s not like I’m going nowhere

  ‘cept maybe to the smoke room

  To inhale the sweet slender allure of a Marlboro Red

  Every hour on the dot

  You check to see if I’m sleeping in that uncomfortable bed

  To ensure

  I still rest

  Beneath the flickering florescent light tube

  My hair has gotten longer

  I NEED to chop and shave

  Someone supply me with a razor

  Oops

  Forgot I was suicidal

  Unfortunately I am not allowed to have those

  Regardless how hard I attempt to guard the scars on my arms

  Days start sooner

  Nights shorten to a moment of temporary bliss

  A crazy bastard sings by my bedroom door

  About God

  Love

  Jesus Christ

  I pray the savior swoops in to muzzle his newest apostle

  Die for our sins later buddy, I need sleep now

  Paper Cuts

  Lightning bolt strike the forming fetus

  Before it becomes another aimless American

  Starving under street lights

  Searching for a dumpster to dive in

  Wondering

  If there is a definitive answer

  Or at least a reason

  To hope

  The last of which washed into the gutter

  From the reign of a sad sick society

  Scrub the stains off with a morality cleanser

  It comes in pine or lemon scent with a hint of spiritual guidance

  This way we will not notice the stench of genocide

  Babies open their eyes already addicted

  They yearn for a hit

  It isn’t smoked

  Snorted

  Or muscle popped

  Just a piece of paper.

  Darling

  My darling,

  Is pretty right after her first cup of coffee

  That I serve to her underneath blankets and sheets

  Because her eyes won’t quite open yet

  My dear,

  Is pretty when her breath tastes hot,

  Like Midsummer sand

  And my tongue caresses the plaque on her bicuspids

  My partner

  Is pretty when we watch scary movies

  And she can only peak through finger tips

  That cover

  Her hazel eyes

  My Lover

  Is pretty

  Before we make sweet sexual advances

  And tells me to be quick because she has to work early in the morning

  But Mommy

  Is gorgeous

  When she teaches my daughter

  To be bilingual in English and Spanish

  At the tender age of two

  My Answer

  A snobbish girl looks at me

  Her nose pointed up

  Her eyes pointed down

  She asks

  Why do you write?

  I explain;

  I write to exert emotion

  To get rid of words festering inside

  To humble myself

  I write to expand my mind

  Extend my thoughts

  Show the world not everything is ugly

  Or torn apart

  That we can become something

  I write so that my heart will continue to beat

  My lungs continue to exhale

  To ensure my next focal point is not the top of a casket

  But most of all

  I write because of the judgmental

  The jealous

  The hypocritical

  I write to silence people like you.

  She

  How will I explain?

  That you were my favorite accident

  Or

  That drugs are okay in moderation

  How will I explain?

  Not to drink and drive

  Unless you’ve only had 2

  Or

  I will always be here no matter what happens

  How will I explain?

  That the grass is not always greener

  And

  To stop and sniff the tulips

  Before your sinuses wither

  How will I explain?

  That only some cops are good

  That racism is wrong,

  That your Barbie doll looks like a slut

  And

  You can’t dress like that until your 22

  How will I explain?

  That The Darkness isn’t a very good band

  But they helped to create you,

  Well,

  That and booze

  How will I explain?

  You’re the reason I wake up

  And,

  Without you I couldn’t.

  Hollywood Hypocrisy

  Do you know why pretty woman wasn’t believable?

  Because Richard Gere never got the swab

  He potentially fell in love with a whore with herpes

  And never went to the free clinic to get tested

  (Whore meaning occupation, not slander)

  I know it’s not supposed to be real

  Or

  Believable

  But I don’t even go to the bathroom without wiping off the seat twice

  Movies never justify real love

  They never get down and dirty to the truth

  Hell,

  If J-Lo was my wedding planner, my wife would be left at the alter

  I’d follow that ass all the way to a prenuptial agreement

  The sacrament of marriage is so sacred that gays can’t tie the knot

  But you’d better watch out if you’re wedding planners hot!

  The closet Hollywood could get to true love is

  (Drum roll please)

  Natural Born Killers

  Absolutely

  He went in, whacked the family, they go on a kill crazy rampage,

  And fate keeps them together in the end

  You want true love?

  It’s right next to the Easter Bunny,

  At the graham cracker cottage

  Near the chocolate waterfall

  You want true love?

  Live with a crazy pregnant girl for nine months,

  If you don’t jump out of a window and die

  You win

  But if you live after jumping out of a window you better come back with a snow cone

  Or she’s going to beat you with a remote control

  True love is changing diapers and paying bills

  Sticking next to someone regardless of the hardships

  Checking the closet when your lover’s scared

  Holding puke hair at a keg party

  Leaving the bathroom door open when you pee

  And thinking of them first

  Sleep

  Say what you see

  When your eyelids softly meet in the middle

  When

  Your brain goes on lockdown from the hopeless reality of life

  The weird perceptions

  The alternate reality

  It lives in the realms of your mind

  Your dreams

  Nightmares

  Sensual thoughts

  Fears

  You wander through the world where you cannot die but truly live

  They are made up of clusters of deep fried dinner

  Stress from work

  Relationship roller coasters

  Where nothing is real

  But

  Everything has a taste

  A feel

  A once guarded emotion

  We find comfort

  Strength for tomorrow


  It prepares us for the day

  Without this break we become irritable, irrational,

  Enjoy my friends,

  The unknown universe that resides in your own mind