Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Meteora Musing

Photobucket


In Greece there’s a place called Meteora
where they sent
the bothersome ones, too pretty
and smart to live in the rural villages.

Coaxed, bribed and forced to live out their lives
on top of these
tall isolated rock needles.

So isolated that supplies were brought in
once a month
by mule and then
hauled across deep ravines in a bucket on a pulley

No escape from there.

No hope for those prissy little pussies
Sent off like baby lambs, married to this Christ character
And  IN NAME ONLY

Not allowed to speak out loud for years at a time

Sequestered

Maybe some of them
waited for Apollo,
son of Zeus and Leto
to rain down on them
whet their appetites, soak them with his love.

Can you see them sitting there
waiting for some reprieve
from the kneeling and the prayer
the hours of singing the same old tired song.

Yeah--I’d lay odds

double or nothing

that they did a lot of
musing on their fate
planning their escape
Counting the days, plotting out
the location of the stars and the moon
till the next delivery.
Checking the rope
Eyeing up that bucket
figuring out how much weight it could hold
how much time it took to cross over the ravine
how much time before they were missed.

Of course the Greek men weren’t worried
They already knew
the most important factor
in this equation

Girls suck at Science and Math.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

False Honor

Puzzling
We will travel to opposite corners of the planet to murder each other
To put another Band-Aid on a festering boil
To leave old men and women staring blankly into the night sky.

We have been in denial mode for so long
Waiting
Waiting

The ones that do come back are
Damaged
Pierced by foreign forks
Mere shells missing their normal psyche
We feed the terror with our apathy and our greed

Noble—there is nothing noble here.

We are all busy texting in our business suits
While our vehicles
Plunge into oblivion, taking out the innocent as we go.

We have been in denial mode for so long.
Waiting
Waiting

Our kids lie about everything to everyone
And then forget who they told their lies to.

It has spread like a fever into our sub conscious
We are immersed in our lies
Soaked through the skin
We keep rowing in circles, our speech mimics our thoughts
Drowning
Getting nowhere faster than ever before and

We have been in denial mode for so long.
Waiting
Waiting

Help —do we even know what that word means?

We are conquerors
We come to do battle
Because of fear and loathing
Because if we don’t-- they will
When does it end?

We have been in denial mode for so long.
Waiting
Waiting

Our planet is changing its code
Our round bodies no longer fit
Into the new landscape
There is no potable water

We have been in denial mode for so long
Waiting
Waiting

Monday, July 19, 2010

Send Them to War

Send the gangsters,

the murderers and rapists
the terrorists, the child molesters
the fossils with more than their fair share of piss and vinegar.
Send the bad attitudes, and the free-loaders.

Send the ones that want to die with their boots on.

Send the experienced ones
the Clint’s the Tom’s
the Arnold’s and
the Dukes, the ones
with snot-free noses.

The ones that know how
and won’t think twice
to fuck you up and will love doing it.

Send the salty, the sick
the brave hearts
on their last leg.

Send the ones who want
to leave this earth making
a statement, leaving their mark
their sweat
their blood.

Send Them!

Let’s leave our youth alone
with their wives and children
with their minds and their bodies intact.

Leave them to care for this country
to bring us back to sanity
to give us hope
to revive our economy
to renew our faith in humanity.

Let’s harness those hormones to rebuild our bridges and dams
to patrol our borders, and to forge new alliances
without any preconceived ideas of what they can and cannot do.

Let’s sit down and think about how we treat each other
reassess wants and needs
how we teach our children

Let’s take a lesson from nature
and send the Neanderthal to fight the age-old feuds

leave our kids to save the planet
and send the apes-- the missing links.

Send Them!

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Mango Man--Dream State

**** A story in a poem --in 100 words or less, Mana means spirit or power, Haumea and Wakea were ancient Hawaiian gods. Laka is the goddess of hula




Last night he dreamt of the before time,
it is dim.

It disappears with the birds
when he wakes
under his special tree
above Kalihi Valley.

The tree that he knew
as a child,
which shows him its mana
in the howl of the damp.
In the leaves whispering her name,
combing-out memories
tangled within their dark stillness.

Coarse branches stretching back
to the time of
Wakea and Haumea.

A goddess born from Haumea’s eye,

Kapo has many names,
one is Laka.

She can appear
as a lizard or
a human.

Her hula
inspires
his dreams.

Saturday, July 17, 2010

One Syllable Poems

Aspirin


Take one with food
to ease aches and pains.

He looked at the strange script
and scratched his head
as he tried to sound out
the first word

Ass—put---in.


Stamped

He loves to lick stamps

and coat his tongue
with glue.
The taste
slides
down the
back of his throat
sticks to
his ribs
and melds
with the spam and egg
meal
he just ate.

See that Mom!


Déjà vu

It was sweet

She'd had
that taste
in her mouth
a dark fudge
masked
in a thick brown shell
sweet meats
nuts
creams
and mints.

Love

In

A

Box

wrapped up
with a
bright
red
bow.

Friday, July 16, 2010

Intolerance--abcDarian

Aunt Alice had to stop for a few

Beers, she was
Chilling down at
Deeley’s saloon with
Edna Earle. It seems that
Frank James was involved and that
Good for nothing
Henry Hiller, you know the one that used to
Ink the newspaper down outside of
Jasmine over at
Kallops Corner? I believe you know
Lawrence Bishop, he owned the Star something or other,
Maybelle, he will
Never get over this, it sure
Opened my eyes
Pops is still limping because he tried to help poor
Quentin, you know Lawrence’s
Retarded
Step son by his third wife
Tina or Tasha, well anyway it sure was
Upsetting to the old folk they had never seen anything like that in the whole damn
Valley, everyone up in arms over that god forsaken fire
White crosses went up like Christmas trees in July
X-rays showed he had a compound fracture of the tibia, risking his life running down there
Yelling at those fanatics. Nothing he could do and poor Quentin hanging there like that
Zinnia’s got tinged too—will have to replant some new ones come spring.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Yogurt Advertisments-Cinquains

Blueberry Yogurt
Fruity
Low fat yogurt
A five gram protein punch
Satisfies mid-morning hunger
Brain food

Strawberry Yogurt—Rejected Ad
Flavored
Low fat yogurt
Distinguished sour cow
Fermented with bacteria
Grade A




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.
Another form, sometimes used by school teachers to teach grammar, is as follows:
Line 1: Noun
Line 2: Description of Noun
Line 3: Action
Line 4: Feeling or Effect
Line 5: Synonym of the initial noun.

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