Two Poems by P. Szymo

enter a stream turns into a sidewalk concrete ideas
blocking one after an other so do it walk on it
past the restaurants and stores for the rich
maybe taste one dish to see what you’re missing
and move on to fantasize about wealth and feel
shitty unable to provide for yourself and an other
think up ways to make money flow and feel shitty
about even the thought drink slowly and ponder from
a cheap store bought can feels subsidized
cheapen your drunk to stare at the concrete stream pounding pavement
to reach some higher level but reason calls it quikrete reason being one sticks and drowns
solid down into permanence state or some prefer dreaming and have a time believing
while others let the practical particles cling and drag
it’s much more difficult to go where nowhere doesn’t exist being from such
says someone partially respected who wholly should be fully but
what can somewhere provide beside a concrete babbling brook
with loose boulders bent on laying a shoulder through what one might
call self somewhere where i too boulder caught in scowls and huffs
looking for the next shred of stuff to calm change make me more me
and isn’t me me more the issue a solid stream should be full of it
some it that pursues worth in an eye unknown perhaps ungrown
thoroughly breached the embankment covered by lack of communication rearing
a head ugly satisfaction for no one is satisfaction for all and
three truths can contradict but profits will line the moon
when the tide lifts and the rivers of the rich throw out the backs of the preventable
least of all can be said to forfeit the value of no one of
course in due it does bequeath a flow and lock where one stands
control or not sinks by choice by stances happen and circum
how can it stem who can it grasp and by what flush can i be free


The Silver Rights Movement

The silver rights campaign created such
diversity in godforsaken minds
that worldly leaders gave in, moved to Mars,
repopulated, crushed the Martian globe.
But deep within the core, the silver folks
began to rise and spread dissent and fear.
I never saw a silver folk myself
but felt their thought inside my brain, like I
were silver, tired of life, prepared to fight
with vicious ruling men that think like gold.

szymo_headshotP. Szymo is the founder and editor of experimementos. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in faultlineIndiciaZAFTIGAngry Old Man, and Echoes. His work as a data scientist and experimentations with machine-generated poetry can be found under p-szymo on GitHub. He currently lives in Brooklyn.