Good Souls Can Be Dangerous Too. (For April 10, 2017).

The Old Soul crept by,

No one noticed

it was so kind.


It was a good soul

helping others,

feeding the homeless,

listening to Bach and Beethoven.


That soul had been around

It had seen the world

been back again.


It helped the helpless

fed on the weak.

It opened the door for one

stabbed the other:

watch out if it doesn’t show both hands when one is meeting this good old soul,

it knows its politics.

It once, with George W. Bush told some nameless country it cheated on their spouses, all in a wave. (This actually happened. George W. Bush was visiting some country and waved in such a manner that meant to the locals that he was messing with their wives. I looked and couldn’t find the actual instance I am referring too.)


At night the good old soul roams the streets

looking for a new victim

thinking up a new scheme.

You may see it as a nice soul

You may see it as a dark soul

You may not see it at all

Until it is too late to see at all.

Weak rhyme at the end with the two all. Sorry about that!    🙂


Written by Sam Sutlive on April 11, 2017 between 11:10pm and 11:30pm for April 10, 2017. Posted 11:25pm on April 11, 2017.












May have been posted.


Ocean waves
dancing with tiny
people’s dreams
town where
no houses sit
no chairs rock
the air only knows how to forget.

Written by Sam Sutlive November 12, 2016 rewritten here April 8, 2017 at 11:06 pm and posted April 8, 2017 at 11:07pm.

The Unseen Holds You


Level Of Elevation

                                                                                                                                         Floats                                                                                                                                           Up And Down 2.

Bad shall not

Acts moving on

unseeing others

pass within your yelling

You cannot see how your voice pierces the air

I fall backwards.

Silence or nothing

on the thickness of the air

makes you fade

Eyelashes shattering such as strings resonating for the last time.


Level Of Elevation

                                                                                                                                         Floats                                                                                                                                           Up And Down 1.

Bad shall not come from this.

Badness shall pass,

Acts moving on to other unseeing victims.

Shall pass within your yelling

yet not before you cannot see how your voice pierces the air

coming as a smack.

Silence or nothing

on the thickness of the air

makes you fade

Eyelashes shattering such strings resonating for the last time.


An Extra Poem.

The Unseen Holds you from  you Yesterday cannot to move Today. forward.              

You want to fall backward

                          Hearing “if your stuck fall forward”

“it will fix itself.”

you know it will not.

What they see as better:

“Falling Forward”

is my face value

of a personality they cannot see through.


Level Of Elevation Floats Up and Down 2 Written by Sam Sutlive on April 6, 2017 and April 7, 2017.

Written on April 6, 2017 between 9pm and 11:50pm

Written, edited, and rewritten on April 7, 2017 between 2:24pm and 2:56pm

Level Of Elevation Floats Up and Down 1 Written by Sam Sutlive on April 6, 2017 and edited and tweaked on April 7, 2017.

Written on April 6, 2017 between 9pm and 11:50pm

Written and edited on April 7, 2017 between 2:24pm and 2:56pm

Extra poem written on April 7, 2017 between 2:24pm and 2:56pm.

All Posted on April 7, 2017 at 3:03pm.

Waiting For The Next Day.


The bad shall pass As I dream.

The wind lulls me to sleep,

as I write this to beat the clock.

A poem not quite formed.
Yet no time.
So there is this.
The bad shall pass is a truth,
just in another context for another poem that there is no time to write here now.

Written by Sam Sutlive on April 6, 2017 between 11:54pm and 11:59pm for April 6, 2017 post. Posted 12:02am on April 7, 2017



Resounding rebounding voice—


Family sighs,

Grandmother or mother or

whatever is dead.


now a dad cries a little,

Most of his tears staying in his head.


He is the Christmas baby. Wanted to be loved.

discarded for another.



Daphnees. Cries. Are. of joy.


Daphnees voice—


I Likes chips and cheese,   she is known for saying,

What is the food order she’s asks, can’t get enough of that.

Need a strainer for a string to hold up my apron,

You got money?

We’ll need it for the burial.



Resounding rebounding voice—

Johnny’s still sniffling,

What’s he going to do now?


Big H don’t care no more,

He hurts of course but you won’t see it even you look,


Remember he’s the one that wrote 7 ways to kill your parents.


Electrocute, drown, stab with a 15 foot shore spike, chloroformed left in a burning house, arrow to the head, multiple gun wounds to the stomach, buried half alive among tree debris in a gully.



Written by Sam Sutlive for open mic.

Written on April 5, 2017 between 4:00pm and 5:28pm posted 5:31pm on April 5, 2017.

April 3rd Poem Written on April 4th, 2017 And April 4th Poem(Thoughts, not any one poem-mostly loose ideas) written on April 4th 2017.


Actual Exchange.

“Hello Boo”

“Hey, how you doing?”

“Good, you”

“Just alright,

Don’t got a light though, sorry.”

“No worries, somewheres in here”

Draft written by Sam Sutlive on April 3rd, 2017 around 11:00pm after exchange happened.

This draft written between 7:16 and 7:27pm on April 4th, 2017 for April 3rds poetry entry.

-I read a review for a book of poetry turned prose by Alice Notley called Certain Magical Acts. It sounds like it will be good. I am having a hard time imagining a four page poem for now,  or even a book length poem.

-Flannel wavering

from jumping too high

cat tail PAUSE


-Tall women rolling their shoulders to hip hop.

-The host was charismatic. Little and fierce her expression was written across her face.

-Forehead splitting,

love is overrated honed into horizontely stripped pants

-communicate to a point, get there it is all in a nod point to point we got this.

-You watching their eyes wander, how much do you read into what you see?Into what you see that they see?


neck muscles too tight

hiphop here to stay

-wolf hats spinning can not see

-Image poems do not work but the sailors boat sinks as we fall.

-Double hearting this tight neck, solid letters sounding zip zip orroo.  I love the waviness, their reflections, that  structure on the right, how it mimics the one on the left yet all together different as the same. I feel its wetness and fogginess. Something at bay that is about to breach and touch me to wash over me.

-Ideas flow through the guys mind. He is writing a book, publishing it he says. You do not need a religious leader breathing down your neck he says.

Written by Sam Sutlive on April 4, 2017 for April 4, 2017 between 7:27 and 9ishpm and then between 10ish and 11:19pm and posted at 11:21pm on April 4, 2017.

P.S. Do you all like saying in this blog April 4th 2017 or April 4, 2017? I used both here and would like someone else’s opinion.

Thank you,


Sam Sutlive.

Elton John and John Lennon Friendship In My Head.


Welcome to another day with a poetry post or I should be saying night for Poetry Month. I hope you enjoy and have a great evening, night or day!-



Rough Draft, may be revised.


Newspaperwomen drive by

grand Bentley’s are their score,

They get the job done

They have their coffees

The paper is there

they don’t even read it.

Knowing what it says

Tables waver

letters spin

turn upside down

wood becoming smooth

glasses tilt.

A man walks by

a hazy day becoming sunny, too bright—

his dog says:

It is just you in your head, you are floating in the sky in a Travel By Map Mercedes,

“Can’t you tell.”

The woman only nods letting the dog pass.

drinking coffee.

She’s the newspaper taxiwoman.

A quickie by Sam Sutlive, written on April 2, 2017 around 9:45 to around 9:54pm.