listen carefully

recited from somewhere distant
like the oral history
of a culture gone unmentioned
in any history book
he spat stories
that stuffed the room with dust
blotting everything else out
and between sentences
that pause to cough -
deafening echoes cracked with
wet inevitability
and brandy
just waiting

- Shannon Peil

(featured in the poetry forum 11.19.10)

dollars cents money

negated all the conventions so
aptly, skillfully
throw away culture of industry
impossibility implicit in admittance of
failure, unsuccessfully
rationalize engagement of corporate
life, existence
commodities expecting social perfection
dollars cents money
barter for souls with no exchange rate for
panic attacks, cultural anxiety

- Shannon Peil

(featured in the poetry forum 06.26.10)

the dream

almost everyone I grew up with
always talked about leaving
portland mostly
the hipster mecca
but most of us are still here
i talked about leaving, too
but what else is really out there
another place to be unsatisfied with
more people with the same problems
other boring jobs with dick managers
i’m not entirely sure
the american dream is still out there
just more grass is greenery
latent drug and emotional problems
early pregnancies and proof
your mother really was right
and I reaffirm for myself
alcoholism is a disease
you can’t get angry for having

- Shannon Peil

(added 06.26.10)

night terrors

I
can hold a conversation
   without moving my upper lip.
I
can smile with my eyes
   and I can look away
to laugh. I can read
psych papers
   about why
people have nightmares
where
   their teeth fall out.
I
can have my own nightmares
   where I accidentally
smile in public.
   I can nod
awkwardly
when pretty girls say hi.
   I can feel
my rot eating me
   from the inside out.

- Shannon Peil

(added 06.26.10)

Housed

This house is filled to its brim now
Everywhere, in every nook - things we left behind.
Secrets left untold, stories shared a few times
And promptly forgotten. But we will leave them for now
For the next people we come across
Unsorted baggage for others to take care of.
This junk we had kept mostly for old time's sake
Is making our home feel small. Smaller each day.
And maybe it's better this way, I didn't want to haul it with me.
You are tired too, now - it seems. Let's just go.
Maybe when we think of this house again,
The dust will have settled.

- Shannon Peil

(featured in the poetry forum 04.24.10)

Never

Happy Never Gonna Be A Father's Day
never gonna end up goin back to school
welcome to almost minimum wage unskilled labor
dead end waitin for the break that ain't comin
check to check renting a place you can't afford
with no one waitin up for you when you get home
Happy Never Gonna Be A Writer's Day
got the drinking problem and the lonely
yeah that's a pretty good start but
ten years now you still working on that book?

- Shannon Peil

(featured in the poetry forum 02.16.10)