Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Private Dancer

Sly and the Family Stone reverberates in the background.

I Want to take you High---er! Hi—gh—er!

Boom shaka lacka lacka---boom shaka lacka lacka !!

The darkness throbs and then a
spotlight flashes illuminating
her four inch spikes
all aglitter as her
well defined stems wrap the pole center stage, inching their way up
heels first, towards the dark dusty paper-mache ceiling.

Swirling lights and a throbbing deep-tone tease the regulars as
her voluptuous implants bounce
and her trim
athletic form swings and slides
swirling, twirling
thumping, bumping, writhing and smiling to the beat.

Just another sultry artist with pouty red lips
and no tan lines.

High-priced minutes tick by as
thick mascaraed lashes and smoky eyes
slice through the fog, combing for dead presidents
as they salute a beautiful flower
in full bloom, as she eyes a dirty clock
and competes with
younger more fragrant flowers
showing up late for the dinner rush
and now shielded by burly men
in dark corners.

Monday, June 28, 2010

Sunday, June 27, 2010

Saturday, June 26, 2010

Wasted Words-Rictameter

My comments on war!
of wasted words
line up on back lots, march
past shelled stone facades and down bleak
alleyways seeking young inquisitive
souls trapped in constipated minds
prone outside wisdom’s door
drenched in bullshit

Rictameter is a scheme similar to Cinquain. Starting your first line with a two syllable word, you then

consecutively increase the number of syllables per line by two. i.e. 2, 4, 6, 8, 10 Then down again,
8, 6, 4, 2 Making the final line the same two syllable word you began with.

Friday, June 25, 2010

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Last Train Home--Chinese Documentary

Last Train Home--Chinese Documentary

We met at eleven
on a Wednesday
for a Chinese movie
preceded by a fat American
lunch at the Pavilion cafe.

Overfed in our luxury as we
observed the spirit of these dynamic people with
backs bent in two, using simple tools
to farm and rebuild cities, to live in squalid
closet-size rooms for decades, and send money home
to finance dead dreams, to children who don’t understand why.

To children who just want their mommy and daddy to tuck them in at night.

To forsake what we would call normal.

Young couples who have to leave home at an early age
leave their babies to work in factories
to make jeans for spoiled Americans with 40 inch waistlines
until their fingers are bent
until they have become so numb
that they no longer remember
how to speak to their own children.

Migrant workers trapped in their nightmare lives
breathlessly pushing
against the mob
for days
for a train to take them back to
sons and daughters
who live in tiny shacks with grandma
reeking of
inadequate plumbing
looking to escape the duty of being first in their class.
Frustrated lonely children searching for an alternate life
away from their parents’ stark reality.
Sharp children still wide-eyed
more impatient as each year passes
for mommy and daddy’s annual visit.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Chasing Dinner

Over hill and dale
bottle green bushes.
Bits of fur
matted and stained
in the brisk
morning air and
in a grassy knoll
lily of the valley

Monday, June 21, 2010

Vog Sunrise

The scarlet sun slices
an ebony frame
dazzling the Iwa birds
circling violet water lilies
blowing orange kisses as
amber tongues poke
tall banyan trees
greening with dew.

From Wikipedia:

Vog is a form of air pollution that results when sulfur dioxide and other gases and particles emitted by an erupting volcano react with oxygen and moisture in the presence of sunlight....

**The Frigate Bird is called `Iwa, in Hawaii.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Saturday, June 19, 2010

Friday, June 18, 2010

Dads vs. Grandpas

Here's a little humor---Happy Father's Day to all the Dads out there

Dads have it tough!

They have to correct their naughty children.
They have go to work and then come home and
work some more.
They have to fix what everyone else breaks.

They need to make an appointment for sex.

They have to wait for everything
wait for their wives to get ready
so they can go out and spend money
they don't have
on food that they already have
in the freezer.

They have to fight traffic-- twice a day-- FIVE DAYS A WEEK.

They have to wait
to have their toe nails trimmed
wait until Xmas for new shirts, ties, underwear and socks.

And wait for Father's Day to hear from their grown-up kids--Maybe!

Yeah--Dads have it tough!

Dads are good for car keys
an extra couple of bucks
and explaining about the birds and the bees.
They are dependable.
They are there when you need them and
if you get into trouble or just
want some support
even though they are usually in the dark
the last one you run to
after all else fails.

Yeah-Dads have it tough!

Dads get better with age
they mellow like an old pair of socks
that you can see through.
They become almost human
thoughtful and caring
they develop a sense of humor
soon after the last child
leaves the nest.

Yeah--Dads have it tough!

Now Grandpas-- they get all the perks
They get to spoil the grandkids
feed them junk food
buy them anything they want
drop them off two hours late
with toilet paper stuck to their shoes
giggling about some off color joke
they weren't supposed to hear.

SHH--remember not to tell your Dad!

Grandpas get all the news about school
and friends while Dad is plugging away
being responsible.

Grandpas know where all the bodies are buried.

Grandpas know how to fix that hole in the drywall
or that dent in the garage door
that your new car accidentally hit
while you were backing up
loaded on a few beers after graduation!

Yeah-- being a Dad is tough-- isn't that right Grandpa?

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Tuesday, June 15, 2010


Graceful swimmer glides

spins lady photographer

twirls water haven.

Monday, June 14, 2010

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Fish Hawk

Fish Hawk scans green depth
stark orange focus intent
dinner at ten sharp.

Saturday, June 12, 2010

Turtle Rant-Ku

The service here stinks
and we have to share our pool
with Antarctic birds.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Tuesday, June 8, 2010


My rules for this one were to use XYZ in each sentence!!

Xian’s yellow xenon zephyr zooms-in-on Xanadu.

Xanthippe’s xenophobic XY zygote zigzags zip code zeroing-in-on zither.

Xerophyte x-ray yields yucca yelp zinging zinnia.

Zechariah’s XL zenana yields Yiddish zinfandel.

Yankee xylophonist yearns-for yodeling yogi in Zaire.

Xuzhou’s zucchini yardstick yields yawn in Zurich, yowl in Zanzibar.

Yonder xeriscape zooms in on zany yuppie in zoysia yelling for Yorkie.

Xuzhou: city in eastern China
XL: extra large
XML: a mark-up language that indicates the structural type of data
Zenana: harem
Zoysia: any of a genus of creeping perennial grasses having fine wiry leaves and including some used as lawn grasses.

Monday, June 7, 2010

Wayward--W’s-- Rictameter

Rictameter is a scheme similar to Cinquain. Starting your first line with a two syllable word, you then
consecutively increase the number of syllables per line by two. i.e. 2, 4, 6, 8, 10 Then down again,
8, 6, 4, 2 Making the final line the same two syllable word you began with.

wheel, well- balanced
weather-beaten, waking
wanton wide-eyed water-lily
watching water-fowl win wistful wall-eye
warding west wind wending wasp-at
wee water-moccasin
wrestling wet, white

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Utilizing U’s --Cinquain

Cinquain is a short, usually unrhymed poem consisting of twenty-two syllables distributed
as 2, 4, 6, 8, 2, in five lines. It was developed by the Imagist poet, Adelaide Crapsey.

Unorthodox union
Uttering Uxoriously

Friday, June 4, 2010

Telling T’s, cherita

I have been alliterating through the alphabet--learned alot of new words, and stretched with my friend Merriam Webster, however today with the letter T--I am reverting back to a structured form. Thanks everyone for hanging in there!!

Tongue tackles tact teaches transcendent taste.

Truth tweaks trust
trumps temptation.

Trilling To Try
taxes thoughts
trains to thwart triumph.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Savoring S’s

Sacred sage sachet soothes squeamish salamander.

Sarcasm sandwich smears self-righteous sheriff.

Sultry showers shift, splash Suns staunch splendor.

Splendid scene spanks sponsor spooning secretary.

Scavenger scarfs smoked sausage
signaling smiling shutterbug snapping sow.

Space-age spade shovels sovereign shit
spiking Saturn’s silent satellite.

Spotty spores sport sprouts splicing spleen.

Street walker streaks Safeway struts stringy stump
submitting suburbia- to sudden suffering.

Sugar survey summons sweet satisfaction
synapses signal synchronized symphony.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Pasta Poem

Pasta Poem

I’m having PASTA withdrawal, here!

I have a Casarecce condition

an epoch  Elbow gripe.

I am a Gemelli guerilla

married to Tommy Tortellini

who happens to be in a numb Noodle narcosis.

I live in petrified Penne poverty.

My revolver is stuck in a Rigatoni riddle

My bullets are ricocheting in a pool of ricotta

swearing in Shell shock.

You are playing with a vile villainess

wandering wired

without any Ziti-- zip

and now you dare tell me

we have no Linguini, no Spaghetti, and no meat for the sauce?


Tuesday, June 1, 2010

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The Dark Path Brightens

It occurs to me That I require an ideal To summit these peaks. Something more than a patch. My tenacity shouts above my perception Shooting ...