Classy Lines

Antique Mercedes

decked out babe in polished chrome

infatuation.

Easter-acrostic

Eat a chocolate bunny and stuff yourself silly.
Ask your scale to lie for one more day.

Satisfy your longings, and then call your loved ones
Tear yourself away from outdated traditions, invent new ones.

Eat one hundred jellybeans and then eat three more.

Rejoice in sweet memory and resurrect your dead dreams.

Spring Fever

Peacocks race through field

practicing for Spring Fever

tall and small compete.

Mongeese watch from pond

take note of noisy neighbors

mad commentary.

Cardinals picnic

doves, myna’s and sharma’s feast

on Milton’s crackers.

Trees hum with bird song

fish flip for raucous new tune

syncopated beat.

Not Guilty#@$%

Two large crows CAW---CAW

in a cold dark brown koa cage
their shiny
black feathers flexed in anticipation.

The honorable raven presides speaking
in their native tongue. He is flanked
by two rooks, the first randomly calls
the lucky hens and roosters
their names plucked from a hexagonal cube, the other
leads us to the box where we are to be judged
as a good fit
or later dismissed.
I am the first,
my seat is pointed out,
my feathers only slightly ruffled
I try not to squawk or show any signs
of distress as my foot catches on the carpet
as I push through the swinging doors
proceeding carefully and cautiously
up into the box
an omen.

We are to judge the blond sheep
next to the plumper crow
he has been accused of
ferocious bleating, kicking and spitting,
however we are reminded that he is innocent
until proven guilty.
We are instructed by the raven
as to the laws of the wilderness
and will have to listen
to testimony from the witnesses
and watch for
certain markers of doubt as there
were no visible signs to be discerned
on the goat--she is called to the stand
and hunches like an old woman.
Her language is guarded, she preens for us
and disappears back from where she came.
The blond sheep is next- he bleats on about his
innocent baby, who was forced to witness
the alleged bleating and remarks of his tender love
citing just cause for any misconceived wrong doing.

We wonder why are we here- our taxpayer dollars
contributing to keep the wheels of justice grinding
are as blind as a thousand bats in a dark cave.
It takes ten minutes to decide the outcome
we are thanked and asked to come downstairs
where they will answer any questions we might have
we respectfully decline and leave
released back into the warmth far away
from that koa cage back into our busy lives.
Back into the fog from which we came.

And Justice for All

Justice is not blind.
It is late.

It needs to
individually approach the bench
in private
to address all
the significant reasons
why nine tenths
of the jury pool need to be
excused as well as observe the rights of
the conscientious
objectors in the gallery,
the people who do not agree with the laws or the process
as it is written, and interpreted.

It needs to swear an oath to educate
its citizens on how to spot a liar
probable cause, evidence
and beyond a reasonable doubt
Yes, justice needs to dot all of its i’s and cross its t’s and make copies.
It needs to make sure that you aren’t so smart
that you recognize the hypnotic effect of being confined
and cloistered and it needs to
validate your parking. Take role call.
Find and arrest those no shows and have extra forms
for those who left their summons at home. And it
needs to do all of that by four and if
it cannot, then you the jury,
will have to report tomorrow at eight thirty
fight rush hour traffic, park on the other side of town.
And run/walk your ass to the courthouse because OMG

You cannot be late.

Spring Break

Petey the peacock is
on Spring break.
Vacationing in the neighbors field
he’s forgotten what peacocks eat
because he’s now addicted to crackers.

You know the expensive kind from Costco
in the rectangular box that you take out for
company--not just any company but good
company-like the boss--the colleague from the
other firm that you want to impress--your
best friend--who remembers your birthday every year.

Yesterday he answered NOE-- NOE-- NOE--
and then, More-More-More
but
I don’t know who Noe is or where she is.
He usually comes and rings the dinner gong
around five with a loud NOE-NOE-NOE
Aieee--he sure is persistent--but I think
his clock is all hammer jang
because its five in the morning
So I’ve decided to place an ad in the Peacock
News for this Noe girl and all I can say is
she better bring some crackers!!

Witty Epitaph

Here rests poor Connie Loon

brain cells bloated corpuscles strewn

wandered the galaxy beyond the moon and

was worm digested on the planet Dune.

Stupid

You can’t fix it
believe it or even
set it free.

It hounds your every
waking moment and
then haunts your dreams.

It will follow you to
the Library
where it refuses
to open a book, citing
disinterest and boredom.

It can’t find a job
reach any goals
or even take care of itself
but has definite opinions
about your behaviour and
explicit demands
on your time and
it will eventually turn
on you
and then replace you
for no reason at all.

Evil

Evil
thrives 
in a cave
in Afghanistan.

It reaps famine from a
fertile poppy field
to children
that live in dark rat infested
tenements calloused and
manipulated by sparkles and beads,
where the truth
slices them and eats them for lunch.
And then leaves their bones for the
vultures
to pick clean.

Pacu-haiku

Pacu emerges
forages for papaya
pierces wet ceiling.

Raising Cane

Stern jungle natives

draw sharp image, deliver

vivid dialogue.

Photo Ops- Barku

(Barku--10 words in six lines--usually written on a bar napkin.)

Clear crisp
images
haunt
local hood
Bring newest
capture device.

“Zeus
Watch”
is up for
your vote
on Face
Book.

Photo contests
appeal
to all
owners
focus
as pet’s
pose.

Boogie Fever

Boogie Fever by Cornelia DeDona

Meadow Pause

Meadow Pause by by Cornelia DeDona

Certificate of Completion, cherita

It bears witness to attendance at a seminar in Reno in 2002.

Cornelia DeDona of the Koolau Hawaii Chapter completed
Primary Officer Training, signed by Mike Keefe, Director of H.O.G.

P.O.T.-- the last time someone gave me
credit for pot, I was fifteen
and now it is an accomplishment.

Pink Tongues

Pink tongues cruel gossip
swallows spoiled dreams, ideas watch
victim gag at curb.

Barku Campaign-Etheree

New
pithy
moving verse
reserve your space
talented poets
for Barku Fever reigns
on Planet Blueline this month.
Witness the brave innovative
observations, rants and muses from
this sharp worldwide writing community.

Etheree

The poetry form, Etheree, consists of 10 lines of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 syllables. Etheree can
also be reversed and written 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

Barku--
 10 words in six lines, usually written on a bar napkin.

Jail Time

The heavy iron door slid shut
made a loud clang, ringing in our ears
as their footfalls echoed
down the corridor
locking the four of us
safely away from the November, chill.
The interior gloom
enhanced only by them allowing us
to remain for the moment together.
Each girl watched the other for signs
of weakness. Would our resolve
hold up or drip like warm yellow Jell-O and discharge
into a sticky puddle on the cold, cement floor.
We had made up fake names and addresses.

For a brief moment, we actually thought
we would be rescued, the twins, Marty, her skinny
sister, Mary, Dawn, and I had run away
from nothingness into the adventure
of anywhere else.
Let’s go to Florida!
It had been a wild ride all right
meeting up with my Italian
friend in Passaic, her family
had a summer house across the street and
ending just outside of D.C. on a restricted
highway. Picked up for hitchhiking.

The fuzz gave us some new bracelets
to wear, took us to the county lock-up
on the way, chained together with a black
boy telling me “Don’t cry now
”it’ll be alright
in the morning” his smooth
southern drawl reminding us
that we had almost made it to freedom.
The police commanded us to heed their invitation
thaw out while they called
Marty’s brother in Florida
to come pick us up.
Only Marty’s bro
never showed
I guess he had
other plans.
Stirring my resolve into mush
So, I told them who I was, the others soon followed.
Dawn’s mother, our girl scout troop leader
showed up after we spent four days on the girls side
of the youth detention center.
It only took a week
before I hit the streets again.
This time I had a ride.

Pumping out a Poem

Shades of colored icing
carefully mixed and
inserted into a
flexible plastic bag.
Special couplers chosen and
brass tips attached.
Burped, angled and
gently pressed like clockwork
forming hundreds of
leaves, roses and basket weaves
swirled down and
hardening over time
into full fledged morsels of sweet verse
prized by perceptive eyes
devoured in rapid measure.

Hard Lessons

One day, carefree
testing boundaries
the next, mutilated
splattered on the side of the road.
Two friends killed instantly
Ziffel 18.
and Gary 19.

Out driving and partying
the four of them
in the back seat, Ed
escaped with a broken arm
and Woody
with hardly a scratch.

I was 15
it was May
still signing my own excuses
when I got the phone call.
They’re dead!
Hit Head On
their VW bug
squashed
by a drunken black caddy.

Time blurred
spiraled and
in due course
crystallized while
hitchhiking on the interstate
600 miles away from home.
It will be alright
in the morning
whispered
in my ear and
became my mantra
on the eve

of my detention.