I was the wife

I was the wife

stayed at home when 

you went out 

you left me with so much 

to think about 

replaying our movies

every scene 

worried about you so much

didn’t know who to believe 

when I was the wife 

you were making bread 

took care of our family 

you were restless 

when I was the wife 

I could imagine 

a place for us 

and a relationship 

we follow the drama 

dog earring the page 

waking up waiting 

for an episode to play

I picked up the pen 

I never went back

I became a writer 

you, the subject 

Drawing Circles

  Drawing Circles (Gaulke/Brown)

She's calling you from faraway

from the place that doesn't change

on the border of dreams and memories 

where everything decays

you miss sundays on the beach

weekdays on tv

nothing then seems boring now

in a so-so pizza place

with a magnet in her hand

drawing circles in the sand

changing the air 

with her moods

feelings come in waves

pulling you 

through her hair

deeper into solitude

collecting roots and reeds

making talismen from seeds

she's working you into her art

as her passion burns the sea

checking under the bed

smoke rings around your neck

a moment free's all you need

to feel just what she meant

verse: B9/C#7

chorus: Fm6/B9/ADrawing Circles

Inversions

https://www.amazon.com/Inversions-Poems-Bob-Gaulke/dp/1978024010/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&qid=1509230528&sr=8-5&keywords=bob+gaulke

Tonight

Tonight

in suburbs everywhere tonight
people are turning in their neighbors

they’re suspicious types
they keep to themselves

look violent
drive in menacing ways

not friendly
producing strange smells

capable of anything
when trapped in a cul-de-sac

Mouthfeel

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1975608895/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1506607783&sr=8-2&keywords=mouthfeel

Poem of the Week-Write Out Loud

Poem of the Week

Unpopular Music

Unpopular Music 

I want to tell you 

tell you a secret

you have to promise

not to hear it 

I’m in front of you 

with my emotions

under my clothes

I’m naked

I’m gonna play

unpopular music

I don’t want you

to sing along

I’m gonna play 

unpopular music 

don’t dance to it

you’ll break an arm

these young people

everywhere 

I love them 

in my own way 

I see them hurting

with questions

I know what they feel

but can’t explain 

how they need 

unpopular music 

to fill in lines 

without names 

how they sing

unpopular music 

it’s something 

they can’t explain 

just knowing 

needing to be knowing

something in the universe 

feels the same 

You're My Shop

You're My Shop

I meet you behind closed doors

discover you walking the floor

see everything in you I want 

I know you're my shop

our relations have been constrained

now my credit limit's been raised

I love the weight of full bags

reminded of you in subway ads

the practical side of our love

Is displayed for the world to see

we fit like hand in glove

on sale for the winter season

the only relationship I have

Is the banter with your associates

I live on a planet made up

entirely of parking garages

The Fetishist

The fetishist

gotta be selectively blind

to survive these times

lose your mind 

if you think about how we live

domain extends inches 

beyond our bodies 

even then we struggle 

to defend ourselves

wrap yourself in a dream 

surround yourself with things 

in a small room 

with an air filter

maybe you can come 

in for a little while 

without disturbing 

any objects

try to connect 

tension that’s best 

we can almost touch 

something like a feeling

Sunga

Sunga is here

New album out now:

Album release-"Sunga"

This mini-album is the result of a year and a half stint living in Salvador, Bahia, Brazil. Although I'm passionate about Brazilian music, I recognize my limitations as a writer and musician, so the songs are rather a reflection of the experience of being dislocated in a foriegn culture as much as they are about my feelings of the culture itself. I wrote two-dozen songs and found some which created a listening experience that reflects for me the sense of wonder and confusion one feels when you put yourself in orbit around a strange new star. On BandCamp here:

bobgaulke.bandcamp.com/album/sunga

Tablet Forms

Tablet forms

When it's you and me

Against the world

I feel lonely for the world

Two against one

You follow me 

To the crypt

My equipment 

On the altar of worship

I know I've gone wrong

But not sure how

I miss friends 

Lost in the struggle

Ambitions, normalcy,

Self-esteem, disappointment 

I've no idea what kills them off

As the grinding sound in the distance

Is masked by the highway's

Ocean sounds

Cocooning

We had gotten to the point in the relationship 

when communication was reduced 

to a series of gropes mixed with baby-talk 

centered around essential needs

It was a steep transition back to the world; 

streets, right angles, credit cards

sometimes we didn’t make it at all

the world plotted next steps 

so compelling was our private world 

we often forgot to code switch

she would be found hugging policeman

teachers, or random angry people 

whispering in their ears while 

checking their pants for smellies

I’d spend hours on the phone

discussing romantic particulars 

with customer service representatives 

and automated bank tellers

luckily, we could always find our way 

back to her apartment 

due to the tenacity of the mylar rainbow 

sticker on her apartment window

https://www.youtube.com/user/bgaulke

https://www.youtube.com/user/bgaulke

Fascist Haircut

fascist haircut

I’m trying to kiss you 

with your new fascist haircut

something resists   

you don’t want to go on about it

say it’s not a signal 

shouldn’t think too much about it

brutalist architecture 

references 

sides with an inferno

on top of it 

those fascists had style

it’s very aerodynamic 

think they’d smile 

if they saw how things finish

wouldn’t want you shot 

over questions of appearances

everything’s a symbol 

in the breakdown of languages

Have you met my needs?

Have you met my needs?

I was there in line and bad voice spoke to me

I’d order the extra bacon even though it meant  

shaving minutes off of my life

and the planet’s 

I couldn’t care less at that moment

it was the only pleasure available 

before I had met you 

and now we spend our days and nights

in all sorts of blister and tetra packs

in my apartment in your underwear

and we rub each other fast enough 

to erase any memories of happier

times when we were younger 

and we never had second thoughts

about looking beyond our desires

To Joy

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NqZ6c0aIJqM&feature=youtu.be

Plans "A", "B", & "Z"

Plans “A”, “B”, & “Z”

You’ll be very successful 

We’ll live on Park Avenue

Our children will have famous friends

We’ll become rich helping others

I’ll work as a waiter; you're a social worker

We sometimes see our kids

Even the one in trouble

Our parents will help us out

You’ll hit him with the rock 

I’ll stab him with the spear

We’ll have enough meat for the winter

His skin will make us gloves 

Kindness of Strangers

we rely on friends
to be family

and then
after they leave

we're left
with only

the kindness
of strangers 

despite everything
behind our eyes

in a split second
we realize

you're a part of me
I'm some of you 

before the fear
 split us in two

we make a gesture
we remember 

the kindness
of strangers

the body
next to me

the one
across the way

the crowd
in front of me

ones
on display

you and me
full of pain

and the ecstasy
that awaits

as strangeness
comes into view

Maricopia

It's one-sixteen out

the cars are starting to melt

people walk into the supermarket

AC takes you down by a power of ten

there's nothing to be said about

the wealth of goods on the shelf

hunter gatherers  couldn't imagine how

four corners of the world could get so bent

coffee from Colombia 

beef from Japan

paper towel from the Amazon 

corn from the heartland 

all go into the cart

of people very well-fed

living inside of luxury boxes

behind iron fences

I get their animal natures 

I see how they're scared

making political choices from 

reptile parts of their brains

drugugly

drugugly

got this little habit 

it won't quit 

addicted to my roof

food and bed

nothing against homelessness 

I envy it 

one day

I'll kick this habit

straight in the head

it's that middle class feeling

clinging to my clothes 

sense of privilege and some

childhood photos

middle class feeling

won't let go 

despite evidence to the contrary

that it never was

drop bombs over there

weather's never been the same 

friends have all changed 

faces and names 

you've got plenty of news 

none of it good 

yet you still refuse 

to blow up the world

that middle class feeling

clogging your pores

clinging to ambitions

it's no good 

middle class feeling

tickling your nose 

in all those ads 

in your friends' photos

Airports

Airports  

All the love ambition 

Prejudice and hurt

Everything processed through 

What we've seen felt done and heard

All the imagination

Incarceration and rebirth

We carry the history

In our unspoken attitudes 

Body language assumptions

And sense of rectitude

We're never above it

It's never far away, I'm sure

Each time I'm in public 

I'm reminded of this dependency

The needs of the many

The rights of a few

All are required to be processed

Through an eight-year old's point of view

Drugs

Drugs

Everyone in this place
Must be on drugs
How else could they 
 Stand these indignities

Only this accounts
For the lack of love
Feelings must be
Encased daily

Every day a man
begs for bread
In a car of people
Well-dressed, well-fed

Not a single person
Crosses his palm
He's us and we
Can't give a damn

Everyone escapes
High on themselves
Too tired to confront
This vicious reality

It's in and out
Of our hands
Lost in mirrors
Ending madly

Wild

Wild

I had a feeling
you were wild

but I never thought
you were with it

I bet you preferred
to hide it at times

wishing to
kill it

as it tried

to fuck your professionalism
I noticed

it’s the only thing
keeping you alive

when you come
to think of it

everything you do
the rest of the time

is just a form
of accounting

Bad Art

I learn so much from bad art.

Vestigial Tales

Vestigial Tales

Lost when you
Become an adult

What you could tell
Your younger self

Some feelings
You can't even spell

Leaving their marks
Without a pause

It's colder inside
Than it is out

You're left with
Vague suspicions

And drowned meanings
Still haunted by what

You thought
You'd become

Nice

Nice

You speak several languages

Earn more than my parents

Cause a lot of damage

Living many lives

Despite three mortgages

And your achievements

You're not a happy person

And there's so little time

To be nice 

To find where love's hidden 

To give without getting

Permission

To be nice without hope

Of being a winner

To find the something

Missing in your interior

Cynicism's easy 

But it's not charming

You get defensive

I know you're hurting

To see the worst in people

To always know how it ends

To feel superior when

It comes to facts

It leaves an emptiness in you 

That continues to expand

But to be nice

To leave it behind

To think twice

Taking heart over mind

To feel light

Free of the burdens 

Pressing down

On everything around you 

Musical Way

https://youtu.be/1e3TFgQx6VM

Laughter

laughter

that straight face 

has served you well

through four seasons

and many years

when you could have

screamed for help

instead of letting things 

undo themselves

slit of a mouth

crooked nose

faulty sound system 

and video

straight face

remains exposed

kissed and slapped

seldom needs repair

you've still got

a use for it l see

it hasn't aged a bit

more than me

Mybankaccount

My bank account

when I left the middle class

I had few regrets

held onto the accent 

but little else

saw the destruction

wrought by twenty million sultans

had to imagine 

being someone else 

You approach with caution

Unfamiliar with my medication

Your drug of choice is exhaustion

We merge and create situations

I began to relax

When I perceived no threat

I'd fallen out range

Of any panic attic

I slept close to the ground 

without making a sound

just an occasional nightmare

from that distant past

Blindness

I've been lost for words lately

They've been tied up 

In thoughts going nowhere

Eating each other up

As I feel a certain pressure

From below surging up

Passed you on the street the other day 

And I just couldn't stop 

I felt there would be nothing

To say I just gave up

To thoughts heading somewhere  

Looking for a way out 

Into distant galaxies

I'm gazing at stars

Windowglazing

Windowglazing

I'm fascinated by these questions
Less interested in the solutions

If I've got nothing else to think about
My mind enters desperate places

You raise an interesting point
I'm lost in your calculations

We could continue this discussion
Well into the next session

These questions return at night
They never leave my imagination

Providing a way to navigate a life
Full of less important distractions

Sit-ups

sit-ups

when are the times 

not troubling

do we ever 

step back from struggle

how often do we reflect 

on our own imbroglios 

only to conclude there's 

something as off 

as the planet's 

own movement

when are we ever 

un-desperate

just for minutes 

every two weekends

when there's still 

cash in the wallet

and no trace yet 

of Sunday dread

I'm not gonna sit back 

and let it all happen

but pardon me 

for a minute 

while I uncouple 

the brakes  

on this speeding 

sandwich 

before we're all

knee-deep in the ketchup 

Eternitiesofmore

Eternities of more

dimensions are waiting for you

graphic novels, models, conventions

limited super deluxe edition reissues  

with bonus tracks galore 

frozen dinners oxygen channels 

TV movies worldwide networks 

couldn't have been 

imagined decades ago

plunge in without hesitation 

the bedroom apartment mausoleum 

is ready the shelving the shelving

is the price to pay for damnation

If you could just sign your name

and sign off on never finding

intimacy again 

with another human being

never becoming involved

in social or political meetings

I can promise you 

an eternity of more

Please Rise

Please Rise

between watchful 

eyes of a nation

during prototype 

demonstrations 

before  

combination

exhumation

convocations

opportunity 

presents itself 

without much 

of a precedent

sliver of an 

accident 

could bring down 

all the plans 

please rise while skies are raining fear

please rise ask what you’re doing here

inside before they turn gears

still time I’ve unplugged the monitors

during the confusion 

inside the darkness

with fingers of fate 

stuck inside holy pockets 

time telescopes

physics, suspended 

adrenaline pumps

minds connected

while they erect the palace

before they’re established

as stars type out 

their last desperate message

Thursdayness

Thursdayness

everyone today
is angry and stoned

we're in this
sandwiched reality

where we can see
the abyss when we want

and chose to look
the other way

my students are
carnivorous

and all out of
shits and fucks

for America
twenty-one seven

adults on the street
feel homeless

although
their circumstances

improve
when the sunshine

shows
itself

woven

woven

show me the fabric

tell me you like it

let me in

on your little secret

we can make it

without equipment

it just takes effort 

and concentration

tell me it's useful

show me it's durable 

wearable most of all

it feels beautiful

with a delicate side

that easily tears

takes some mending

and some care

we bend don't break 

feeling it's a mistake

take a step back 

see what we've made

patterns to remember 

we're woven together

tangled in colors 

strange and familiar 

Details

details

fingers walk hours

round your back

looking for a 

spot to relax

thirsty they dive 

for the watering hole

what a surprise 

when a camel follows

looking for details

admiring details

 

can you spot the details

god's in the details

looking over images 

on your phone

hundreds of minutes

have lost control

hints of weakness

is what you're about

a captured moment's

all you want

with details

every sound, every smell

details

they're all you remember 

details 

we'll scratch initials

with details

onto marble

Rotations

Rotations

Slowly but surely 

They were all

Driven crazy 

By the sound 

Of the grinding

Some claimed 

Not to hear it

Others just ate

Few thought to face it

Most played games

Deep in their eyes

They had 

To reconcile

Their lives 

To the sound of the grinding

The distant screams

And eight billion 

Dreams

Fed into 

A precision machine

Trees, plants, 

Grandmothers

Birds, insects, lovers

Villages with traditions

Cultures and accumulated wisdom

All unsorted 

Not even folded

Keeping frequencies 

Humming

And stars at a distance

The Lonely Fanboy

the lonely fanboy

I’m finding it harder to read

losing the desire to make art

thinking is giving me a headache

their reality is becoming strong

is this all that we are

where am I taking these children

how does the power of imagination 

deflect lies and bullets

the worst is still coming 

their apocalyptic dreams 

lining up like manga visions

of a very lonely fanboy

A CAPacious Act by Charles A. Perrone

bold new work:

Sensory Inventory

Sensory inventory

Heels pinch me
Earrings pull me down
Skirts twist me
Clasps leave marks

I practice the walk
Work mirror and brush
Even if it comes off
The work has been done

I was made for something else
what it is I can't tell
At times I've felt
I could do anything I wanted

You use words casually
They slip from your mouth
As easily as you find yourself
With me feeling lost

You leave your clothes
In a pile on the floor
Naked you reveal nothing
Eyes follow smoke

Not wanting to do anything
Leaves me restless at best
The refrain's constant
"What to do now"

Uncertain Me

uncertain me

Not having lived

With this much uncertainty for so long

I had forgotten about that

Extra layer of exhaustion

I throw myself into your work 

it's not wrong

For a few moments then

The chaos lessens

We venture back from

Slush and mud

Feeling somewhat  

Weather beaten

Returning to what 

we can't touch

We hold on to what feels

Slightly less uncertain

Proper Distance

The proper distance

we were both terrible at physics

we'd get too close

then bounce back

out of range of gravitational force

spun out alone with some

dark matter

when we were too far away

we'd start to shake

clinging onto anything 

readily at hand

damage done 

apologies made 

in retrospect it would've been easier

to stay in place

buy a calculator 

and just learn some trig

Loner with dog

Loner with dog

Haunted by backyard floodlights

Against white snow black night

And the dog lived outside

Every night I'd close the door

Cage and watch her eyes

I shut the garage door

We'd watch each other through

The bedroom window

My mom warned me I'd be

Setting patterns for my

Future relationships

She was right

students

students

I wanted to tell them

that everything would be OK

but I couldn’t 

I let myself be cut to pieces 

by their fears 

and assumptions

I wanted to tell them 

not to be afraid 

but I didn’t 

I wanted to 

hold them then

even if it hurt

so I took it home

took it home 

and I smoked it

drew it 

out of the pen

hit the buttons 

and couldn’t 

fool myself

about the difference 

You're On My Money

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vo7x4JAWNNQ

Mute

Mute

I've forgotten how to read

I've lost the ability to leave these times

The luxury of an interior life

Seems too costly to maintain

My body misses something

Hands move around furtively

Reaching for a page

When there's nothing there

The quality of the lighting

Reminds us of old tv

Actors move around uninspired 

The cameraman can't hear

We don't know what we're missing

Having lost the pages to describe 

A terrible thing that keeps on rolling

Around somewhere in ourselves 

Elevator Hours

elevator hours

how far do we zoom out
to make sense of this

to understand the nature
of these occurences

bird’s eye view may not be adequate
satellite image of the planet

maybe a time-lapse supernova
billions of years flat

how close do we get
when it doesn't make sense

when sex doesn’t explain it
perhaps twenty years in bed

elevator hours
before taking stairs

feel what exhaustion
can do for understanding

we embrace contradictions
with a loving touch

climax as the friction
hits the spot

and again we ask
wrong questions

from our limited perspectives
it's all just a bit too much

The Orgasm Thief

The Orgasm Thief

Silent, deadly she 

Creeps between sheets

In the windows of widows 

In dreams of pre-teens

Whisper her name

And then she disappears

Through your window 

And up the next street

Leaving you shaking

A leaf without relief

You’ve been done in again

By the orgasm thief

Striking fear

In the heart of everyone near

At the point of climax 

She rides out of there   

Making you worry about 

Laundry, deadlines, impending bills

Car payments, baby sitters

You lie there stilled 

Put her out of your mind

Refuse to give in 

Send her down the road 

To that children’s hospital