Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Surviving Cigarettes

You know maybe it’s just me

but I don’t need to walk around
with a heavy sign around my neck
that says I am a recovering cigarette smoker
that it has been twenty years since my last drag.

I don’t need to go to meetings
or confess my cravings
which I honestly don’t remember.
I don’t need the pat on the back
or the camaraderie of fellow ex-smokers
to get through another day.

I sent that bitch packing.
I buried it
said a few words
and left it to rot
where it belongs.

I didn’t look back.

Some friend
it soiled my lungs, hair
and clothes.
It yellowed my teeth
wrinkled my face, turned me into a liar
and a sneak. It made me miss out
on special times with friends and family.
It was a selfish, conceited bully.

It made me believe
all sorts of lies.

It was never satisfied
always wanting
more and more of my attention.

It had me fooled
spun me up like a top.
I forgot about food, I lived on diet soda and one meal a day.
It was the first thing I reached for in the morning
and the last thing at night.

I woke up to its trickery
I slowly learned that
I had other choices
that I didn’t have to be a victim
or a hostage
to this friend.

So I quit that habit

dropped it
for the cheat that it was
and suddenly food tasted better.
My car
house
and my breath smelled cleaner, sweeter
attracting positive friends
like health and fitness.

It brought things like
memory into sharper focus
reversed the damage to my lungs
gave me a life free from chronic bronchitis
made my immune system
more resistant to infection
and speeded healing.

My so-called friend
had been killing me inch by inch

guaranteeing me a
one-way express ticket
to the dirt and ash concert
but I decided to postpone
that rendezvous.
I know that time
will come soon enough.

In the meantime
I have too much to do
too many things to experience

so many doors to open

reawakening the child within
reminding me of
simplicity and common sense
of how things used to be and
could be again, if I just let it be.

Retesting boundaries
and exploring

beyond my comfort zone

way past where
any of my old friends
had ever gone
or will ever go.

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Twelve Steps for Kicking a Bad Habit

1. Stop it.

2. Kill the fucker.

3. Bury it deep.

4. Say a few choice words.

5. Stay away from others with the same bad habits. (They can have different ones, nobody’s perfect)

6. Tell everybody, secrets are toxic.

7. Say no to Bic lighters, pipes, needles and other bad influences.

8. Find a new positive hobby. It’s your choice, decide.

9. Get Healthy- start by taking a walk and not jumping to conclusions.

10. Get a dog who will love you, no matter what other crazy shit you do.

11. Meditate.

12. Believe in yourself- know that you will drop this cheat, learn and move on.

Sunday, December 26, 2010

An Old Violin

He once knew could still remember

which buttons not to push?

He once knew how to coax a smile

elicit a wish.

Grandpa may have pondered over
the cost
long before
time’s door clamped tightly shut
before the last flames were extinguished
what they
would resort to
to get
and keep that soulful instrument.

He must’ve known
how they would
justify their crime
long into the black night
when he was rudely awoken
by the last howl of the refugees
now silent and
covered by venal snow.

Saturday, December 25, 2010

Christmas

Clarence the angel
Has to earn his wings.
Raring to go
It’s been two hundred years
Since he died.
The hour draws near.
Mary and George Bailey
Are ready for a miracle.
Sweet blessings are fulfilled this night.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

My Shadow

My shadow left
last night. He fell
heavy down the stair
bent the frame of my life
and lay
eyes glazed half shut
on top of the damp cement.

He left
waiting for me
to pick up his peaceful sleep
heave it into the back
of my pick-up
and deposit it
without ceremony
into a dumpster.

The loss crushes
squarely,
tamps
down my ambition
leaves it to drown
in a surge of regret
searching for logic
in a meaningless well
of recent history.

He left me
to find my way alone
through the green valley
now gray from a traveling flood
deep within the Ko’olau range.

I am sleepless but not defeated.

I am empty inside
without your wet nuzzle.

I will remember you warmly
throughout these shadow less days
to come. I will recall

you pitching your chew bone

high into the clouds
and then catching it firmly and
gently within your canine grasp
your muscular frame racing to meet me
following and inspecting my
every move, I am lost
right now without you, my loyal shadow.

Friday, December 17, 2010

Preview: Letters to a Prisoner by Connie D.

Preview: Letters to a Prisoner by Connie D.


https://www.createspace.com/Preview/1075242

Loose Optimism

Cool sun
dries dark tear stains
red tea roses climb up
a gray wall barricade dead house
dreams crushed.

Black couch
leather harvests
mold spores, dead insects mass
along border, red spiders head
clean-up.

Red rose
rescues spirit
blackness leaves horizon
pregnant with well-fed deceit
black hole.

House waits
for new owners
to repaint ruddy walls
black fish jump, swim pond’s boundary
life peaks.

Red sun
trails moon
lifts morning’s black cover
chasing loose dreams like a lover
best prize.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Habilitat Presents: Cornelia DeDona: Letters to a Prisoner

Happy Holidays!

I will be on local TV in Hawaii in January, put this on your calendars and thanks for watching!

Habilitat Presents: Cornelia DeDona: Letters to a Prisoner

1/11/11 Tue 6:00 pm FOCUS 49

1/12/11 Wed 1:00 pm FOCUS 49

1/13/11 Thu 8:00 am OAHU 52

1/14/11 Fri 3:00 pm FOCUS 49

Friday, December 10, 2010

Bumbucha Dreams

Bruno and Zeus stay howling.

Da blast
skyrockets me towards Pluto
where I crash land.

One blue-tongued plutonian
points at
plenty kanes, all named Lars
in der bebadeez.

Dey ski past.

Shoots, I follow dem.

Seconds pass, I ripped
from da blue tundra
by one nodda wail.
I spock da ambulance
speeding from da North Shore.
I stay talking Italian
to one Russian tita
wit one blue smile.

I drink one beeg Slurpee.

Da siren no’moa.

I ski to da fewcha
wea ereteeng blue.
I jettin wit Willie K.
on top da ocean.

Garrens!

Wat dat mean cuz?

Monday, December 6, 2010

Christmas Scent

Pine needles leave trail

carpet stairs with fresh clean scent

boosting sapped spirits.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Red Sunrise

Demands


surprise

blazes hot before your eyes.

Drips sublime

from its climb

trade winds leave

scarlet weave

crimson blush

dazzling brush.

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Goodbyes

Goodbyes drift westward
pink skies shower, enfold cliffs
leave their wet embrace.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Eclectic Mixture

Strange and diverse come to mind
it’s a good thing grandpa was cremated
that seems to be the way to go
no somersaults in the grave for me

I’ve done my calisthenics

It’s no wonder we go to war
malcontent a routine part
of our genetic makeup
praying to a higher power
practicing self hypnosis in order
to maintain our zombie personas
in order to sit for hours
in our glass towers
contemplating the wonder
of our malleable form
adding a pitcher
of eco-consciousness
to our self-absorbed mix
an elixir
concocted by
mad scientists
staring into telescopes
pondering the cosmos.

Ah- but there’s
also tomorrow
waiting for
our savior to return
and what forms will he, she or they
take?
Will we bow
or shrink like
violets?
Will we be caught up
or smote like
dying embers?

Is it a choice
like all our choices
have been
or has this been
predetermined
altered
by a mind
greater than ours?

Are we random
ingredients
thrown together
as in a hobo stew?
Am I the potato
you the meat
as diverse as
two can be
and yet
together
we provide
sustenance?

Gene Roddenberry
the creator of Star Trek
was definitely on to something
together we can overcome the odds
together we are brilliant
diamonds
slicing through
the dark side
of our natures
like a knife
through butter
each individual
an integral part
of the equation
honing in on
the answers
to our own unique
accountability
in the primordial
stew.

Nipple Fruit

Fleshy nipple fruit
South American native
will do the laundry.

www.tradewindsfruit.com/nipple_fruit.htm

Monday, November 22, 2010

Defining Fun

Chasing a dimpled white ball can be exhausting.
Watching it bounce down cart paths, against coconut palms.
Looking left
when you should’ve
viewed right. So many
things go through your mind
like, How hard can it
be to follow a little white ball?

Funny you should ask because they have been known to
disappear in full view of the player and their cart partner.
Perplexing
doesn’t  begin to
describe it
as you walk towards the spot
you last saw that blasted
white object and
circle the fairway
hunting for that
darling white ball.

Not a colored ball
because you know better than to
use one of those cute colored ones.
But a white ball, newly cleaned
that has managed to find the only piece of four-inch turf to hide in.
Come to find out it’s not hiding at all.
It went straight up not left
and is now in the middle of the fairway, but you still don’t know that.
And now instead of golf, you are playing hide and seek.
A children's game that
you plainly suck at.

Until finally the foursome ahead
still putting
giggles and yells
to you
the smart one
All four of them
pointing in exactly the opposite direction from where you have been
conducting your methodical search for the last five minutes
suggesting your time is up.
So you wave back
indicating that yes
that’s the S#@’n ball
you are looking for
and thank you for sharing!

And you’ve already hit three on hole number five, a par five,
after getting an eight on the par three with thirteen lovely little
hide and seeks to go.

Pausing to state
that it may be time for another lesson
drawn like the others
to the mental aspect of the game
that you are
still looking forward
to today's challenge
seeing all of your friends
wishing secretly that their game wasn’t
quite as good as yours.

Plowing through
eighteen distracting holes
thoroughly exhausted
and slightly pissed off.

And yes
you’ve signed up
to play again tomorrow.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

The Grinch

I am ungrateful
in my damp ivory tower.
Loved ones gorge with friends
on marzipan and chocolate
singing new holiday songs.

Saturday, November 20, 2010

Mother and Child

Gothic depiction
holy mother and baby
divine unity.

Religious art notes
selfless spiritual love
enduring time’s trial.

Mother and child smile
feasting on a full banquet
of satisfaction.

Pious depiction
divulges social receipt
of bygone era.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Rain Concert--SOLD OUT

Thousands of evening dew congregates at the dead end

of Autumn. They been awarded free tickets to
the rain concert. Cloud, the opening act
threatens to burst on stage ahead of schedule
sending the fans into a moist frenzy.
Umbrellas
Slick posters of the band
and a wet T-shirt contest
flood the aisles and prompt
some LOL reactions from the crowd.
Check back later for
more info on next week’s
frost event.

Ciao Blueline

Buon giorno (Hello) Scusi (Excuse Me)
Per favore (Please)
Tu parli italiano? (Do you speak Italian?)

After I finish this round
I’ll be taking a short break
Grazie-- Alice and Allen

Mi piace leggere (I like to read)
and post my poems on Blueline’s blue space
I plan to continuare (continue) and learn l’italiano in my tempo libero (spare time)
Che cos’e’ in italiano-- to write? (How do say to write in Italian?)

Ciao a blu (Blue)
I’ll be back soon
Io mi chiamo (my name is)
connied
A presto. (See you later).

Featured Post

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 ...