Rejects and Forgot-Abouts

Handsome Devil
by Benjamin Morgan

Save a place for me baby
I'm going to end up in hell
But I'm not sure what it means
To be an asshole anymore
Is it just thinking thoughts that bother you?
If I act on a thought
Does that make me an asshole?
If I just think something
Maybe even dwell on it
Does that make me an asshole?
Is what I can imagine
Or what I act upon
The true judge of moral character


Pornography Explained
by Benjamin Morgan

I've got some really messed up words and thoughts
About your firm, round apples and their stems
I can see them through your shirt
I want you to be glad that I am looking
Rip your shirt open and offer me a basket of apples

I get pretty messed up sometimes thinking
Almost all the time about being supplicated
In the computer age
It looks like every woman is horny
They all have an unquenchable thirst to service me

I want to figure out how to separate from fiction
It's too confusing sometimes to know
How easy it is to lose my virginity
Did I have a chance before
Have I turned down a girl who would fuck me

Who is even interested anyways nowadays with me
I hate that even one look or touch is an explosion
Triggers days or months of thoughts
Explicit acts to fuel my angry hands
I think they see it in my eyes and turn away in shame


One if By Phone
by Benjamin Morgan

Hey.
Are you there?
I've been breathing into the phone.
I am just trying to talk to you.
Hey, what was that?
Don't give me any of that guff.
I'm a timebomb.
I am a hotplate turned up to 10.
Hey.
Are you my lover?
I can't speak the language of your body.
I spoke mispronunciations into your ear.
Hey.
Are you still holding on?
Let go of the building ledge.
Go ahead and see if those angels catch you.

The Cycles of an American Year
by Benjamin Morgan

The summer months
When you just sit around your house
In your underwear
Touching each other
Under the fan
With the AC on

The fall months
When you go out in the evening
Come home pink nose
Touching again
Like familiar leaves
Falling down

The winter months
When you can't go out because it's damn cold
The heat doesn't even work well
Touching with icy breath
Under too many covers
Not much sleep

The spring months
God dammit

not a poem
by Benjamin Morgan

I think I'm in love with someone that doesn't exist
I think I'm in love with the devil
I think I'd do anything to swim by myself
With a real big novel on my resume
Also, I would like it as a permanent badge
This summer is a cliche that rocks real hard
Nothing comes out of wormholes but hard thoughts
You can't push anything out that doesn't want to say hello
Ideas are pulled out of heady air with egotism
Thousands of people hate simple wordplay
Rambling is not writing and this is not a poem
This is not a poem
This is just words in a line
This does not even rhyme
Why do you think this is a poem?
Just because I say it is
or isn't
You know that you can think whatever
you want to think
This can be a poem or this can be a giant orgasm
Not like it is though
and that's really saying something
or is it nothing
and how do we decide
unless we all decide for ourselves
But then we're all so different that no one gets together
except those that make certain concessions
And those who won't willow waver get left
out in the tiny, little cold where no one can hear you complain
This is not a fucking poem
This is little words in a computer that no one sees or reads
I might delete this file if vague threats seem to be working
Writing is like something else I can't do well enough
Like anything I like doing or want to do
I hate eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
This is not a poem