K. Silem Mohammad
FIVE POEMS

Ode to Melancholy
Our Three-Pound Brain   
The BARF Dogs of War
The Missing Torque
Volume Structures

About K. Silem Mohammad

Ode to Melancholy

none of us are happy all the time since we’re born
it is reasonable to give names full of meaning to each kind
we name ourselves after dumb animals

I used to think unions were just dumb political shet
many of the talks is so difficult, we should just
do what makes us happy all the time

the problem is that sometimes stuff makes me depressed
I start looking pretty dumb to myself sometimes
baking in this hot sun under T’ang Dynasty robes

do we always need someone or something?
who makes the dumb, or the deaf, or the seeing, or the blind?
all interesting questions

all good reasons for saying enjoy it and make my own explanation
in other words, sports makes us happy!
not to mention, dumb?

my sweet GF is so dumb sometimes
to make matters worse, her dad “is a dumbass
and doesn’t buy the insurance”

oh, dumb animal has as well as he to follow
the Holy Spirit rather than muggering and best of all it was
as if Christians could never be depressed b/c God makes us happy

“I identified myself with that dumb fluid colossus”
I’m not making fun of you, you dumb slut
we should all just turn into a species of dumbfucks pretty soon

we lost all that made us happy, all that made us unique
a few are noticing there is no measurable difference
which in turn makes us happy all over again

Our Three-Pound Brains

I don’t even know where to start with this thing
so I am just going to start and let you piece it all together
because underground sex packs dog food

most of us are probably a bit fuzzy so I am just going to start because
I think it’s fair to say this is a world without color
at least in the sense we know it

into the night and through the first few
effluent factories and foundries
it gets very unnatural

infodumping is simply telling someone as it relates to plants
“both the facts and the law is against you”
a cloud of flies on hamburger is certainly true

worldbuilding is simply telling
someone all there is to know
about tiny crows’ nests

the pick-up is a device for simply telling
the Youth Soccer Association
I’m currently reading Philip K. Dick

I started reading Henry James because of Kerry’s role in Iran/Contra
I probably inhaled over half a pound
of dirt and sawdust and I loved it badly

a particular woman can’t achieve orgasm
and pow
beat slap little tin drum here beat you a pound song

The BARF Dogs of War

hi! I’m barf
(Freudian slip)

today was Cicciolina Day so I wore the animal tampon
wheee doggies!

Stetson ! with a noble battle cry
Snake Man flung himself at his enemy

I fought a small war with myself then slowly radical Arabs
started taking a nap in the hammock of a co-ed nicknamed “Curly Red”

I’d have preferred to go to Annapolis
meanwhile think of my new hammock that takes up the entire front porch

what I really want to know is can I make my rats a little hammock for their cage
let’s ask Grandfather

good ol’ Jesus pennies
sixty-nine different kinds of twat

subway masturbationitis is a far cry from
restaurant masturbationitis, Kierkegaard

after a five-year study of male prairie voles
don’t just say words

people barf
people have disease

now I’ve got “Doggie in the Window”
the one damn song that can make me break down and cry

The Missing Torque

I’m one of my fictions
a live verve that marked her
as practically…
sort of weirdo clock tower is not called kids a bed
relaxing with sounds on cans
some saved TV

like scum advocate nothingness…

everybody uses force that otherwise
leather comma wench with no
muppet angel I suppose we could … still adminning
the point of breaking … carrier

vow, sun’s doesn’t get ewe Spooky Tooth Styx
great generals … shoegaze romantic appear
weekly menace, ooh-ooh

ROGER SPOCK™ you gave me flaming
I love you, only for the green patchwork bluefly
although I currently am attracted to three different men
bought my wife break my windows…
blabbed idiosyncrasy … stepbrother

old Jethro Tull and Star Trek where Kirk is smacking
Spock around much lower and not
if Spock was a reloader
and the sunset on Ibiza subject
from remaking her bard died hard

gingerbread elects macrophage? internet casino
that is noneffervescent
assembling of … several tortured … military photo
international bag of fun tiger
in my butthole

North Wales value of Mr. Spock coffee mug

Chucky 26-inch doll with knife

odds of surviving another attack 1356123 to 1

Volume Structures

in a world of too much
propelled by a sort of mainstream elitism
authenticity is control
sound disintegrates into a Godzilla-like thud
synth blurts ruthlessly edited and cut

a fervid reinterpretation of kraut noodling
that could teach the noise
radio-ready values have mutated from
a tribute to feathered hair, pink sweaters,
and telepathic human sacrifice

math rock is unfortunate and unnecessary
it’s about dudes in eyeliner and women’s jeans
trying to look pretty to make up for abstract pseudo-serialism
such as the problem with fragmentary precision bombs
solving world hunger

I remember rooting for sterile volume structures that might
escape ancient and obscure REAL HISTORY
the connection to which defines
a jeans commercial starring Spinoza
the kind that make his ass look good

ambient cartoons better negate
more overtly rockist storming
screw all that, because these girls did it really
one girl came on and she looked great
and her jeans were about pleasure instead of duty

destroyed jeans paint me firmly
because well, isn’t that
one of the few African faces in the whole myth of progress
actually both concentrically and blisteringly
I’m not really striking a balance