Author Archives: schwervon

Show Poem: May 19, 2017 KC, MO @ The Brick w/ Andrew Ashby + Emaline Twist #poetry 

What we see in parts
2 for one quiche

The the advertisement is a poem
The poem is an advertisement

Concrete floors
Archive the history of construction
Walls unfinished yet open for business

The coffee cups are stiff
Wrapped in thicker brown paper

Will this place survive human time
Will it make its mark in the space

You can use a door for a table
Watch a girl appear
Right where another one was standing

We self fossilize for reasons.
They disappear like rain clouds
Chasing our tails in the dark
The sound of hooves on a blackboard

We learn on the dance floor
Leaning into the moments
Like cats in the sun patches.
Hot cats in the yard

The show started
The second you entered the room.

I hear bells
The food must be ready

I hear bells
The dog must be barking

Bells, bells for everyone
Ringing two times
For every human soul

Show Poem: March 18, 2017 Lawrence, KS @ Reply Lounge w/ The Cave Girls + Red Money #poetry 

Photo by Fally Afani

The walk sign is on to cross central
The arrows stab you
In the right direction

We find security in the tunnels
I walk them alone
With little wonder

The conservatives are not flipping
Time is not taking sides
Bags of M&M’s
Jars of Vaseline
Brownies and gluten free pasta
Nothing takes shape
We indulge to a formless mass

Whipping votes for canned lasagna
Pumping up the credits
With juice and cinnamon rolls
Regurgitating the one liners
We ride giant balls of sleaze
Back to Sysiphus
Sailing the seas of SPAM
That promise a longer thicker member

Sometimes we wade through Hell
For no apparent reason
And then it finds us
Like an arrow at the cross walk
Or a sleeping dog on an escalator

When exiting the building
Be aware the traffic runs both ways

Forget the melting clocks
The Iced cookies
The Teriyaki meatballs

We boldly handle
Boxes of discount rubber snakes
The Holy Ghost forgets
The human skeleton that
That poured the drink
The drink of drinks
Drink ye all of it
Every thing must drink
We hydrate to live
It is not a metaphor for blood

Show Poem: February 17, 2017 KC, MO @ The Brick w/ Fem Doms #poetry 

Photo by Fem Doms


Stop punishing me
For every broken branch
I can only dish out as much as I can take
Stop punishing me
The mind is a basement
The skin beneath my skin struggles
To crawl
Will it ever walk
Freely, on its own?

We hide inside the library
Remembering the blurbs
The stories run the show
The catalog of cards

Stabbing at roots in the compost heap
Prying the bone from the dogs throat
Rotting pumpkins and blue banana stickers
There is still abit of dirt left on these ribs

Action Jackson
Jaction ass king
Let’s float
Third string Viking
47 47
That’s the way to get to heaven
Mermaids under the bar
Bar maids under the mer

Stop punishing me
Have mercy and use the whip
The sound it makes reminds me of my
Favorite school teacher