Chicken Scratch in Midweek

Remembering High School

Remembering High School

We asked for birth control

they gave us crowd control.

We blew their minds

rewrote the rules

retraced the chalk lines

FAR the FUCK OUT

Can you dig it?

We grew up with Nixon, Tricky Dick

Bob, Carol, Ted and Alice

We explored our feelings, ignored curfews

experimented with drugs, sex, rock and roll

So sure

we could change the world

hanging out

in our string bikinis

down by the town pool

drenched in iodine and baby oil

SO RED,

SO BROWN,

SO COOL.

Here’s to

hanging out

on the wall in front the High School

checking it out

as streakers flashed by

as red necks chased queers for fun

to draftees sent to `Nam with a gun

from the hippie that dodged to Canada and split

to the trailer trash DICK-- screwing jailbait chicks

naïve chicks

that bought the white picket lie

and snatched a rotten slice

of  the American pie.

Here’s to Peace

the Beatles, the Rolling Stones

the fuel rationing in ‘73

the boy who stole our heart in September

the one they drafted in November

when we were so groovy, gullible.

Here's to the good old days

chilling at THE WELL

the local dive

where we danced past two with Three Dog Night

and got over on the old man and old lady

MAN-- they were SO UPTIGHT!

Here's to

forging excuses

detention with good old Mr. C. 

Here's to cold dead frogs best not inhaled

but if you must

only after the LSD and beer keg chaser.

Here’s to

smoking Marlboro red

inhaling

Pizza and Diet Coke

Hamburgers and Diet Coke

Chilidogs and Diet Coke

Here’s to cold

white-faced corpses

sixteen and seventeen

on the DRUNK and HIGH-way to graduation

from FUCKING HIGH SCHOOL.

Here’s to

Dream on

Sock it to me

Black Panther pride

In Your Face

Mood rings

New York East Side

Here’s to

belly buttons, bell bottoms

and gold pierced lobes

two inch heels,

and that was the guys,

banana seats

and hip-hugging roads

miles and miles

of tall dense pine

poking

through third eye mind

learning to deal, as life unwinds.

Flash forward

here we are

in our fifties

fighting

our bulging hips and waistlines

thinning hairlines

CANCER

Finding Jesus

poking

through the dumpster

high on Spice

fresh out of fish and followers.

Now I ask you, is this expanding your consciousness?

Because If it is

I want to roll over and consider

the psychedelic spider web in my brain

or better yet

the really huge one

on top of the kitchen cabinet

reconsider the pros and cons

the gravity of my CHOICES

explore my inner Zen voice, some more.

So I’m asking JESUS,

what’s it all about

tell it to me straight, I can handle it!

BTW Man, are you done bogarting that joint?

I’m just saying…

Our Route 66, our Highway to Heaven, our Good Times

our COOL, our COPACETIC, our CRAZY

we DID define!

Can you dig it?

©Connie DeDona 7-25-12

Chicken Scratch:Bridging the Gap A Poultry/Poetry Slam

Chicken Scratch: is Poetry, Dance, Music and just plain FUN!! 

"Why did the Chickens cross the Bridge? To get to the Poultry Slam, of course!" 
"Why do Chickens scratch dirt? Concrete is too hard on their nails" ~ Connie DeDona

Chicken Scratch is also a PSA on GM (genetically modified) food

Protect yourself; YOU ARE WHAT YOU EAT!! Choose Non-GM food
There are four major GM foods: soy, corn, cottonseed, and canola. They entered our food supply about 12 years ago and are likely contributing to the deteriorating health of Americans. Without any human clinical trials or post-marketing surveillance, we can't tell which declining health statistic may be due to these foods. But we also can't afford to wait to find out. GM foods must be removed from our diet now. To learn which foods are genetically modified and how better to protect yourselves, visit:http://www.ResponsibleTechnology.org

Connie DeDona

Connie DeDona:

'via Blog this'

Good Old Anger

Live not for Battles Won.
Live not for The-End-of-the-Song.
Live in the along.
Gwendolyn Brooks
The Pulitzer winner was born on this day in 1917.

Good Old Anger

I do know this
that’s 
never going to happen.

We can write about it
until Venus comes back
but basically
we are a warring race
of mother fuckers
and there is no getting around it.

We will be fighting
raging
and 
shoving our fists
down each other’s throats
until the end of time,
WHY?
Because it’s profitable

And because LOVE
doesn’t enter into the equation.
SURE 
we know about love 
we hold it up
we show it off
we share it 

We read about it.
Wonderfully pithy
aphorisms are written every day
to make you feel 
all warm and fuzzy.

We draw it as we see it 
or from memory
because we need
to measure it 
but then we lose faith 
we forget that it’s still there.

We need to keep checking it 
to analyze it
for weak spots.

Its good old anger
that gets you through the rough patches
Anger
bitterness
and irony
is how we do battle 
to overcome those demons
that come trekking 
out of the dark places
the swamp
trekking their mud
across your brand new white rug
caring
not at all
about how much you LOVE that rug
or about how this may
alter the grand scheme
of your Zen-ness
NOPE!

So it’s going to have be
anger 
that wedges its size seven wide
down your craw
and takes the crowbar
and uses it to open up your eff’n cranium
you sick twisted
bastard.

How’s that
for being in the 
ALONG?

Chicken Speak--To Be Or Not To Be

TO BE OR NOT TO BE

that is the question.

Whether tis nobler to walk

on egg shells

or rather

to boldly strut

cock fierce.

To plant one foot in the hen house

and the other

at the foxes lair

exhibiting

super Gumby

flexibility

and strength.

Or to simply roost

in the nearest Mango tree

dreaming

of Iowa corn fields

sinewy stalks

crunchy kernels

liberally sprinkled

with red lipped white grubs.

And to fertilize

with flair

that extra special egg

the one

that stands out from the rest.

The good egg

that breaks the mold

that breaks wind

with a certain HEN NA SAIS QUOI!

That one egg

that exemplifies

everything

chicken.

That one egg

that the others

defer to

when things get

scrambled.

That one egg

that flies in the face of

adversity

and comes out

smelling

like a ham.

conniededona

conniededona:

'via Blog this'