Fermented Afternoon Thoughts
A three drug cocktail
for chump change.
Super sized
enticement.
Slut red
lip gloss.
Facing the undulation
growing old.
God
in italics.
Death and taxes
not in that order.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Day 20: In Favor of Chaos
In Favor of Chaos
Patterns plague my mind
setting in stone the way things are
and all I want to do is take them apart
toy with their psyche by rearranging
their DNA, A little
chaos where order previously prevailed.
Slipping the sides of squires and re-postulating
the area of a parallelogram
once the footing is pulled from one side.
Ah, to push a plaid it the linear extreme!
Who thought patterns could be such
frivolous fun after all the stiff shirted show
they put on, and the close-minded ways
they impart on us all.
Patterns plague my mind
setting in stone the way things are
and all I want to do is take them apart
toy with their psyche by rearranging
their DNA, A little
chaos where order previously prevailed.
Slipping the sides of squires and re-postulating
the area of a parallelogram
once the footing is pulled from one side.
Ah, to push a plaid it the linear extreme!
Who thought patterns could be such
frivolous fun after all the stiff shirted show
they put on, and the close-minded ways
they impart on us all.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Day 19: Geological Frosting
Geological Frosting
past layers
replicating
Betty Crocker
spread the history
of man
with confectionery palate
Day 18 Summers Length
Summers Length
At a summers length
she kept company
with a Freon white rancor
that left burn marks.
By the time school started.
She was ready to let go of it
but the scars would have no part
of her fickleness.
At a summers length
she kept company
with a Freon white rancor
that left burn marks.
By the time school started.
She was ready to let go of it
but the scars would have no part
of her fickleness.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Day 17: Cynicism
Cynicism
Fas[cyn]ation with the skeptical
that make up our country
has brought me to the point
of dubious thought.
What if the world is doomed
and what if social security will run out
between our fingers; a fine grade of sand
that lands upon our sandaled feet and cramps
the style between our toes? What if
the Hokey Pokey is the highest form
of artistic dance? Who do we pray to
if God is our creation or we can’t trust in him
on our money? Suppose the dollar is never
worth its weight again in Euros; then what?
Fas[cyn]ation with the skeptical
that make up our country
has brought me to the point
of dubious thought.
What if the world is doomed
and what if social security will run out
between our fingers; a fine grade of sand
that lands upon our sandaled feet and cramps
the style between our toes? What if
the Hokey Pokey is the highest form
of artistic dance? Who do we pray to
if God is our creation or we can’t trust in him
on our money? Suppose the dollar is never
worth its weight again in Euros; then what?
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Day 16: Pretending to be Not Memorable
Pretending to be Not Memorable
Pretending the green grass to grow
where blood runs amuck in the coarse sand
to the wellspring of ancient oil.
Tears water the landscape, fertile as deaths
decay. Sweet as the ripeness that speeds it
along in the open air.
While pretending, let’s have some laughter
that is not uneasy and broken the surprise
of reality soaked in blood.
Let’s mix in a little arm chair tranquility.
A good nights sleep, and a day of mercantile
not memorable for anything except the free
exchange of goods and services.
Pretending the green grass to grow
where blood runs amuck in the coarse sand
to the wellspring of ancient oil.
Tears water the landscape, fertile as deaths
decay. Sweet as the ripeness that speeds it
along in the open air.
While pretending, let’s have some laughter
that is not uneasy and broken the surprise
of reality soaked in blood.
Let’s mix in a little arm chair tranquility.
A good nights sleep, and a day of mercantile
not memorable for anything except the free
exchange of goods and services.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Fell off the NaPoWriMo Wagon
I did it.... I'm confessing and hopping to climb back on. My daughter and her new fiance flew in to town Thursday evening and just left to go back to Arizona this afternoon. It was our first time meeting Derek. Of course if Meghan had been alone it too would have been distracting from poetry. I'm not complaining. I'm glad we had the time with them. I'm just saying that a poem draft a day was not going to survive this event.
So there, I'm bad. I've failed. And now I've gotten it off my chest. Tomorrow is a new day and I'm ready to get going again.
So there, I'm bad. I've failed. And now I've gotten it off my chest. Tomorrow is a new day and I'm ready to get going again.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Day 11: Asterisks
Asterisks
Beginning on a line by C. Dale Young
In the dream of fever, in the murky light of a mind ill at ease,
proportions often struggle for recognition. No wonder
they become out of shape; so easily relegated to an asterisk
or a chapter footnote, often skipped over.
If you care for detail as I do, you must pity the poor fellow,
seldom ever able to get a word in edgewise. It’s like
your father’s Oldsmobile. At one time it was the envy of your eye.
Now you’ve grown up and refuse to acknowledge that part of your youth.
Elections can be the same way. The loser drifts at sea to a lonely obscurity.
Then, there are some winners which we would later wish would joint that tiny speak
afloat in the abyss.
Some of our relatives that have become footnotes in the past. Many asterisks
piling up throughout history a part of that murky light.
Beginning on a line by C. Dale Young
In the dream of fever, in the murky light of a mind ill at ease,
proportions often struggle for recognition. No wonder
they become out of shape; so easily relegated to an asterisk
or a chapter footnote, often skipped over.
If you care for detail as I do, you must pity the poor fellow,
seldom ever able to get a word in edgewise. It’s like
your father’s Oldsmobile. At one time it was the envy of your eye.
Now you’ve grown up and refuse to acknowledge that part of your youth.
Elections can be the same way. The loser drifts at sea to a lonely obscurity.
Then, there are some winners which we would later wish would joint that tiny speak
afloat in the abyss.
Some of our relatives that have become footnotes in the past. Many asterisks
piling up throughout history a part of that murky light.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Day 10
A spiked presence—
Before my eyes
A star with supplementary credentials
Far more prickly a presence
A perverse way of making points
And overload of opinion
Not at all shy of expression
The tentacles of the nucleus
Of radiant light
Obliquely insane
Before my eyes
A star with supplementary credentials
Far more prickly a presence
A perverse way of making points
And overload of opinion
Not at all shy of expression
The tentacles of the nucleus
Of radiant light
Obliquely insane
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Day 2: Rage
Rage
Opened, a red blossom of anger
Long held in a tight fisted bud;
Too long—
Maybe it was annoyance once.
Irritation came and settled it its belly
And churned with the callous lies
Than ate at me like fire ants.
Irritation became causality
Of the spectacle of “awe” over Baghdad.
Like remnants of lives
Severed, charred and strewn about
Irritation could not survive.
The fury with which our own
Came home in boxes
Became the rage in full bloom today
You talked about political capital,
Suspended habeas corpus
Mortgaged future generations.
The audacity of
Mission Accomplished
Opened, a red blossom of anger
Long held in a tight fisted bud;
Too long—
Maybe it was annoyance once.
Irritation came and settled it its belly
And churned with the callous lies
Than ate at me like fire ants.
Irritation became causality
Of the spectacle of “awe” over Baghdad.
Like remnants of lives
Severed, charred and strewn about
Irritation could not survive.
The fury with which our own
Came home in boxes
Became the rage in full bloom today
You talked about political capital,
Suspended habeas corpus
Mortgaged future generations.
The audacity of
Mission Accomplished
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Day 1 - Mama It's Me
Mama It's Me
A crimson aversion to the past
Gave me a decorative perspective
To my appearance
Gone are the days
When I was an acrylic girl
The people saw past
Even to my mother
I was transparent
Lost among three brothers
Mama knew everything
The boys were about
The football, track—
The red lipped
Lacquered face girls
They brought home
Nothing so much as a whimper
Of my hearts desire
Got through the door to her
But now I'm red red wine
A year reserved for special occasion
And she'll never see it
A crimson aversion to the past
Gave me a decorative perspective
To my appearance
Gone are the days
When I was an acrylic girl
The people saw past
Even to my mother
I was transparent
Lost among three brothers
Mama knew everything
The boys were about
The football, track—
The red lipped
Lacquered face girls
They brought home
Nothing so much as a whimper
Of my hearts desire
Got through the door to her
But now I'm red red wine
A year reserved for special occasion
And she'll never see it
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