precious metals


Ben Nardolilli

Come and See the Show

He has prepared well,
Rehearsing his breakdown
For five sleepless years,

Pacing his defeat
Well in advance,
He has considered

All the implements well,
Which one will he choose?
Tune in and find out,

Tune out and you will miss
All the hard work
And the season’s number one

Suicide, the death
Everyone will be talking about
Around the tombstone

And the water cooler,
Don’t miss out
On his once in a lifetime

Chance, he surely
Won’t let you down,
Five years re-hearse-ing

Putting the pieces in place,
Then breaking them,
And blowing the dust away,

This exhibition won’t last forever.

Scurvy to Be Found

When the corpse is in the ground,
Old friends and wishes scurry,
Calendars bear the added weight
Of crossed out ink and the marks
Made by metal tips on soft paper flesh.

The parents set up their own ears now,
To defend their everywhere boy,
Compliments are placed as flowers,
Those who wheeze through dreams
Sing songs the cold one enjoyed.

Even the bottles saved for the coming
Are gone, consumed with a sorrow,
Yet leaving traces of content spreading
Through a liver and veins to create
An able jubilation unwillingly.

The One Beside You

The alley
I can, ought, to be ashamed,
do you feel drifting logs,
the sylvan scene
over endless plains?

Only at nightfall
the famous clairvoyant
had down the blackened scene:
“The bloom this year? Tall as you.”

What We’re Missing

Things were better in a closet
       in the last millennium,
a janitor and a student switched places,
to feel spiritual glory in the future,

we’ll plan the future better.
       believing we’ll feel settled one day
avoiding regular jobs.

You can prevent
       these crackpots
yet on deeper reflection,
       after that second bottle of scotch
The other side is only
               a constant odor

carbon dioxide lead me to embrace the pope?
help in a tidal wave
       tuned into the culture.

The Exclusive Right in the Exclusive Territory

We endeavor to be apolitical,
Remember that,

Because no one can make you fight,
If you don’t want to take arms
For poetry, it’s alright, tongues
Have grown silent and withered,
Voices have been lost to the wind
And never retrieved.

No one can make you defend
A freedom you never use,
Snore in church and keep
Nasty thoughts to yourself,
Take your own route
Of passive resistance, no
Once can force you to swim
And make waves.

All the orders in the world
Can never make you rise
And try to take your daily bread,
If others give it to you, freely,
Place it on your tongue and pronounce
Yourself saved, so be it,
No one can force you to end a hunger strike.

Remember that,
We endeavor to remain apolitical.

Many Suggestions of Clich├ęs

Ship of state is only a mother
All that glitters is the mill,
Bury the toilet seat,
Get your knickers, beat the rap
I will harness you in the ass of night
For good fate would have it,
Lips as dull as a dishwater,
Nervous in the belfry

All die in harness algebra
One brick short
Kick the dog and cat
Table your plans
Under the cover of two peas

You'd lose the meat wagon
As long as fate swallows a dog
Ha, here.
swallow it up!
Or leave it.
As a dark blue lake, you
Make like a baby and back-seat driver
A speeding love it or leave it,
Mad one sandwich short
Mad the head wasn't screwed on

Can't get a toilet seat, it pours
Can't get a toilet seat signed, sealed, and delivered
Off the Pope saying ship of state,
Bats in and down like a buttered up,

Messed up pride
Horn of plenty whore in church
Lips as red as the dog and cat

Ben Nardolilli:  I am a twenty five year old writer
currently living in Montclair, New Jersey. My work has appeared in the
Houston Literary Review, Perigee Magazine, Red Fez, One Ghana One
Voice, Baker’s Dozen, Thieves Jargon, Quail Bell Magazine, Elimae,
Poems Niederngasse, Gold Dust, Scythe, Anemone Sidecar, The Delmarva
Review, Contemporary American Voices, SoMa Literary Review, Gloom
Cupboard, Shakespeare’s Monkey Revue, Black Words on White Paper, and
Beltway Poetry Quarterly. In addition I maintain a blog at and am looking to publish my first novel.

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