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.
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