matthew mcquilkin poetry, 1998

It ain't over till the skinny chick raps

My mom deserves to be slapped upside the head!
Yay, yay, de-doodle day!
Apparently her sense of timing is dead!
Yay, yay, de-doodle day!

We'll do the hokey pokey till yesterday is here!
Woo, woo, de-doodle doo!
Let's wait till hunting is over to shoot some deer!
Woo, woo, de-doodle doo!

Ding, dong, my mom has CRS!
Fum, fum, de-doodle dum!
But wait, it's fate, she remembers but it's too late!
Fum, fum, de-doodle dum!

Yay, yay, de-doodle day!
I can be a ditz, but hey, that's okay!
Woo, woo, de-doodle do!
I got it from my mum hey what could I do!
Fum, fum, de doodle-dum!
I've always had a message on my bum!

It reads:

Some things just aren't what they seem
Kryptic messages are not exclusive to dreams
Just be patient . . .
Past a couple moon beams!

("copywrite" 12:51 pm saturday november 14 1998)

Whatever you're smoking, save some for me

If only I could discover
What makes you purr
If only I could recover
The speed of feline spurs
If only I could deliver
The wind of hurricane floors
If only I could consider
The color of your back door

Oh I want to believe,
I want to believe
In the power of deception
Oh I can't conceive
The strain of reprieve
When the polls stagnate election
It's coming, it's coming
Whatever it is I'm running
Antibiotics they make me psychotic
And I can't breathe
I'm trying to sneeze
But it's nighttime
And the sun is gone

Is this really tragedy
Or is it Disneyland
Why did the children laugh at me
When I became a man
You were here, beside my side
Seems we were holding hands
What is this you leave behind
The pages of your plans

Sometimes it's hard to miss
The policies of strife
If ignorance is bliss
You must be having the time of your life
So hold on to nothing
The threads you've sewn
Will hold you in place
And maybe some day
You'll be able to say
Those same things to my face

But if you really start floating
Where am I to go
These warm family movies
Are wreaking havoc on my soul
Who is the smart one
You or me
Who is the logical one
What can you see

The real world is a real illusion
Only confusion is real

I'm a little tired of feeling your pain
I've never felt free
Perhaps I have too much to gain
Excessive energy
This is a journey where time has no meaning
This is a journey where I have no feeling
I never really liked you
Fuck you, put her there
Fuck you, let's fuck
Fuck you, let's play

What I have to say has no meaning anyway
I hope you rot in hell with a smile on your face
Warm and fuzzy feelings are part of the show
I'll just keep on watching from down here below

But until then you know
Until then I know
Until then we know
It will all get better
It will all get wonderful
It will all get better
It will all get beautiful
It will all get better

Let us smile.

("copywrite" 9:12 pm monday september 28 1998)


I don't want 2 fuck your sheep
They never really impressed me
So I left them to the dogs
I don't want 2 fall asleep
There r 2 many things 2 c
So I look beyond the pig
Well gimme giddy guineas
Satan said through the open gates
Way out on the farm
I have no idea how many
Animals have run through your mind
Eating all your corn
I've seen the fertilizer in all your yards
I've seen the dirt for hire in all your words
And I've seen the virus spread through your herd

I don't want 2 pimp myself
Pardon me I'm not quite ready
For Capitol animals
I don't want 2 crimp myself
Pardon me 4 chancing ladies
In a world of young lean hunks
Well leave all the meat sliced chunks
As I said through the broken fence
To the slaughterhous
I have no idea how those skunks
Sprayed more land than your brain can bear
And a little mouse
Told me where 2 find animals in your past
Tell me how much longer this spraying will last
Tell me what else there is u'd like 2 ask

I don't want 2 fuck your sheep
They're dead animals in the spray where they lay
I don't want 2 exert myself
In an empty shithole disguised as a soul
I don't want 2 fuck your sheep
They're nonexistence back by popular demand
I don't want 2 collect your pelts
Letting u create the illusion u've something 2 defend

A dog ate your stock of security
I still don't know what it has 2 do with me
Sex can apply 2 everything
But there r always levels 2 possibility
And I have no interest in your dead sheep

If we don't want 2 butt heads
U can stay out of my bed
Never knowing what's ahead
I'll 4get all the garbage u said

("copywrite" 1:45 am thursday september 17 1998)

rose / air freshener

An air of confidence
An air of kindness
An air of compassion
Avoiding blindness
An air of strength
When a door closes
An air of openness
In daily doses
An air with fragrance
Of present roses . . .

In a world of dandelions
And fading rainbow colors
An inadvertent defiance
Creates a few large windows
With which the whole world's reliance
Can teach what we all should know
Well it's right in front of our nose

These are the days when some of us are here
To breathe in the freshened air and stand behind it
There must be a rose in here somewhere . . .
Just take a closer look and you'll always find it

("copywrite" 9:04 pm sunday august 16 1998)

Chronically Obsolete

The years beyond the styrafoam
Are fading far away
The layout for the technodome
Is permanent today
So wipe away the roads to home
There's nothing more to say
We're leaving everyone alone
At least if physically

Don't try to bear the heat
Don't go out on the street
Don't ever follow my feet
Everything's chronically obsolete

Webs are going down the highway
Too fast for mortal eyes
No one wants to do things my way
Just because of my size
Just don't listen to what I say
Facilitate your lies
In this world creating Fridays
In surplus to the skies

Dog-eat-dogs think you're their meat
Ravenous for latest feats
Face the fact that you've been beat
Everything's chronically obsolete
Now it's time to save your sins
Clamour for the highest seat
Wait for us to peel your skins
Everything's chronically obsolete

The miles above the cybersky
Are crushing yesterday
The only way to learn to fly
Is if it's credit paid
This is the new digital life
And of course it's here to stay
Say hi to my new Window Wife
Well she tells me you're passe

Now she tries to steal my sheets
She says she likes things neat
Chewed ne up her meal's complete
Everyone's chronically obsolete

This is the only way to play
Feel for the byte the bone
Let the spiders take you and pray
It won't damage the womb
Thrust harder no time for delay
No time to read the moans
Future's most important foray
Has pre-paid for your tomb

This is the way of cyber cleats
Dancing around the bait
Feeding into all our conceit
Barricading the gate
Swing back now the circle's complete
So now I've met my fate
It wasn't worth the wait 'cause
Everyone's chronically obsolete . . .

Tell me can you give me a rebate . . .
Everyone's chronically obsolete . . .
Tell me how did I get here too late . . .
Everyone's chronically obsolete . . .
Everything's chronically chronically obsolete . . .

("copyrwite" 10:31 pm wednesday july 15 1998)

The Outsider

Well I've been demoted to the fourth wheel
It was bad enough being third
Where I lived my life, in the back seat

I don't expect you to see how I feel
You're too convinced it's all absurd
And I've been demoted to the fourth wheel

Down here I'm waiting for my mind to heal
Just too much for me to afford
Right here living my life in the back seat

I'm tempted to say I got a raw deal
But this is how we go to war
When I've been demoted to the fourth wheel

And hey now maybe none of this is real
Product of a vindictive bird
Flying around my life in the back seat

I won't tell anyone my lips are sealed
Maybe that's what you thought you heard
When I was demoted to the fourth wheel
And found myself living in the back seat . . .

("copywrite" 5:02 pm wednesday may 6 1998)

Letter to Christopher from Pullman

Dear Christopher: I went to a rave last weekend. I walked
into the men's bathroom and a guy passing me put his hand
on my shoulder and said, "Wrong room, honey." I don't give
a shit; he's wrong and it doesn't matter. I'm comfortable, even
as I write of these things to you, and you probably read
about it while listening to your Christian rock. You'll
remember I apologized for telling you I didn't think you had
one iota of understanding. I know you have a few iotas,
at least. Your poetry alone proves it to me. Your poems
seldom affect me profoundly, but once in a while one comes
along and suddenly everything coalesces. You really do
know how to look from places outside yourself--and some
of those places I have known well. It amazes me how
far apart our lives have drifted, and yet we consistently
find this vivid common ground. It's more than just being
brothers, I think. Perhaps I don't say near often enough
how much I truly love you. With love from your
wonderful brother, your favorite fruitcake, Matthew.

("copywrite" 11:07 am tuesday april 14 1998)

After Collision

After collision
The rest of the world is out of focus
Adrenaline forces me
To a very singular destination
And everything behind me
Is out of my mind

After collision
The rest of the world is out of focus
Anyone watching my back
Is concerned with what's ahead of me
I drop all needless accessories
And leave them behind

After collision
The rest of the world is out of focus
Flowing over and past me
The air gets out of my way
No one in this world can catch me
As long as I can make it to that place

("copywrite" 9:27 am tuesday march 31 1998)

villanelle: no space

I'm waiting for an answer from my mind
I still don't know if you have any meaning to me
And I think I'm going to murder the time

Because I can I'll pretend the wait is sublime
And I remember when you had room on your knee
I'm waiting for an answer from my mind

So I debate the possible meanings of crime
Wondering if you know the things I see
And I think I'm going to murder the time

Because it's easy when I'm this far behind
The life that ultimately set me free
So I'm waiting for an answer from my mind

My affection for you is of a singular kind
Over here I think of you violently
And I think I'm going to murder the time

Because I'm capable of more than a sign
For me to show you what I truly believe
I'm waiting for an answer from my mind
And I think I'm going to murder the time

("copywrite" 8:48 pm monday march 30 1998)

sestina: indefinitely

If I ever thought
I had reason for faith
That blind concept of truth
I should lose all sense of suspense
I would have less to ignore
In a world of disillusionment

And I have long been disillusioned
Of irrationally abstract thought
It took so long to learn to ignore
The eons of forced faith
I just couldn't take the suspense
Of lack of knowledge of ultimate truth

So this is, for me, the truth
With my self I have no disillusionment
Between mind and heart there's no suspense
The years it took to organize my thoughts
And I realize I have no use for faith
Institutionalized doctrine is easy to ignore

Those just below the top are easy to ignore
With their tiresome declarations of truth
And their belief in organizing my faith
Which I have not after disillusionment
With modes of otherworldly thoughts
And suddenly I am bored with lack of suspense

There's nothing to hold onto when I lose my suspense
Divinity itself is easy to ignore
When you have no reason to send it your thoughts
When you have no motivation to seek the truth
You find yourself disillusioned
With the illusion of faith

Yet even the delusional have faith
Without suspense
Regardless of disillusionment
It's a fact too plain to ignore
Even to depend on falseness of truth
Is a comforting thought

But to have faith in the vast reliability of ignorance
The suspension of any guarantee of ultimate truth
Further disillusions the fast corridors of my thoughts

("copywrite" 11:46 pm sunday march 22 1998)


I won't listen anymore
Your words have no value to me

Mirrors don't exist in your world
Your visions escape you
And manifest themselves in your blind spot

You never really listened to me
My words have no value to you
My words are consistently dismissed
You never heard the origin of my intentions

The effects of your efforts to belittle me
Are beginning to wane
You think I am only self-serving
You have no concept of the truth of me
You have no idea what this means to me

You never cocked your head to my side
My words always escaped you
My words have no value to you
You have no ear for the things I see

Your drums filter what they can't accept
My visions annoy you
Because mirrors don't exist in your world

Your words have no value to me
And I won't listen anymore

("copywrite" 6:25 pm thursday march 5 1998)

elegy: From Grandpa's Letters

We are getting settled again
Still have a few things
to do in our apartment
things going well in Sun City
our 11th winter in the sun belt
best of luck keep it up
keep up the correspondence

tickled to death
you have chosen WSU
spent the 4 years I
was there at Stimson
63 yars ago
3000 students
had a jazzy job
assisting in the chem lab
35 cents an hour
$1 an hour working
for a flower farmer
paid for almost
all my entry fees
had meals and worked
at the Commons
never regretted my stay

we're proud of you
still a thrill
to write to my "Cougar" grandson
Uncle Dave didn't get there
as I had hoped
you are making up for it
going to buy a special
WSU license plate

Thrilled and appreciative
of those unique letters
tomorrow we must
do some Xmas shopping
It always seems so lazy
to just send money

nice seeing you
at a very nice wedding
with an especially
handsome best man
treasure the beautiful letters
we get from you
sold our Sun City home

The best of everything to you
Sorry we can't be with you
Very best luck with your endeavors
Have fun + be good
Love + best wishes
Goodbye and God Bless
Much love
Sincerely love, Grandpa

("copywrite" 9:49 pm sunday march 1 1998)


Stranded here in the middle of
The local Wal-Mart parking lot
Nearly cooled in the shadow of
Community college insects
A portion of my family lives
In local hives of dysfunction
Somewhat cold in the capitol
Of a county named after bees
Too far to run, too far to walk
I'm stuck here in a state of shock
Nowhere here I chase direction
Too far from any reflection

("copywrite" 9:45 am tuesday january 20 1998)


Familiar rules sprout
The universe begs
Creation shocks the soul
The future holds zero
Protected disclosures hunt animals
Brittle seasons shovel debris
Science crowns various distances
Ecology judges the effect of droppings

("copywrite" january 1998)