January 27, 2009
It's Not Monday
the cemetery's closed,
but it's not Monday.
The names are flying,
dazzling flippity flops
and somersaults,
cherry blossoms
disembodied from their poets
who may or may not exist
somewhere beyond the words.
Dick and Jane
call for more than silliness.
Maybe I'm distracted.
It’s time for some tough love!
/today/
I have no answers.
That's exactly what I mean,
excluding the I.
No, one last thing:
Poetry is war.
January 21, 2009
Poet Lizzie took an axe...
It was painful to hear. It sounded something like
WHACK
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WHACK
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WHACK
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WHACK
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WHACK
Good thing I didn't have a brick at hand. I might have ruined my tv. I would say it's just me being cranky (I don't like being read to), but others had similar reactions. Check the links at Poegles. There's also commentary at Althouse. If you compare the transcript (visual) of the poem to the way it was delivered, there is a disconnect. The poem (a prose poem) looks nothing like the way she made it sound. I'm pretty sure that's illegal.
Har.
January 13, 2009
I Know You're There
in the shadows.
I hear soft rustling.
The floorboards creak.
In the shadows
I smell desire.
The floorboards creak.
I hold my breath.
I smell desire--
English Leather.
I hold my breath
and wet my lips.
English Leather,
come and join me,
and wet my lips
beneath the sheets.
Come and join me.
I hear soft rustling
beneath the sheets.
I know you're there.
January 07, 2009
Well, of course...
You are The Moon
Hope, expectation, Bright promises.
The Moon is a card of magic and mystery - when prominent you know that nothing is as it seems, particularly when it concerns relationships. All logic is thrown out the window.
The Moon is all about visions and illusions, madness, genius and poetry. This is a card that has to do with sleep, and so with both dreams and nightmares. It is a scary card in that it warns that there might be hidden enemies, tricks and falsehoods. But it should also be remembered that this is a card of great creativity, of powerful magic, primal feelings and intuition. You may be going through a time of emotional and mental trial; if you have any past mental problems, you must be vigilant in taking your medication but avoid drugs or alcohol, as abuse of either will cause them irreparable damage. This time however, can also result in great creativity, psychic powers, visions and insight. You can and should trust your intuition.
What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.
December 08, 2008
Clown butter flies,
I dream to fly. I study. I learn.
You might imagine this is your life path,
but the roads which make up our minds
are wrapped up in ancient luxury--objects,
photographs of objects created by the artist.
I never finish, and no paint blobs fill the sky.
Clown butter flies home.
I dream to dance, to dance, to dance.
November 21, 2008
This Poem Is Password Protected
Someone told me God made yellow flowers first
and that every human has an urge
to keep a record of a life.
Obama's had a couple, I guess.
After all, he's just a man,
no more a god than you or I.
He can't walk on water, change
it into wine, or raise the dead.
Lotus don't spring from his anus.
Richard, I know alot is not
a word, and allot is no place to buy cars,
but who is this Raymond Bianchi?
Maybe he never read Ecclesiastes.
Please tell him the world hasn't changed.
Cigarette is still a French word.
Tell him I looked up "fascileness"
(Try it sometime) and if he needs me
I'll be stalking the Liberal Poets' circle
with my head stuck so far in my navel
all they'll see is ass. Harvest moon.
Tell him I accept his gifts of Gizzi
and Gudding (rhymes with pudding),
but I don't like Chicago. Oprah talks too much.
November 13, 2008
I felt that one coming
You Are Boggle |
![]() You are an incredibly creative and resourceful person. You're able to dig deep and think outside the box to get things done. You are a non linear thinker. You don't like following directions You draw your inspiration from the strangest places sometimes. You're constantly inspired. |
November 11, 2008
On With The Show
waste a lot of time focused on the show,
never utter things kept secret.
See the tree?
Ordinary meanings are vague and squishy
like boiled cabbage.
Mustard seeds, dark sparrows,
madmen rolling naked in ashes--
their shadows curse me.
Resist not evil, even the gates of Hell.
Shooting stars, dying suns,
words don't belong to anyone.
Whirling leaves, strings of beads,
foolish fantasies and savage dreams--
patterns that repeat in time
spawn sestinas and pantoums.
Have you seen the elephant?
You wake up in the morning,
the self you made,
and you are still you,
watching and reacting to nothing real.
November 05, 2008
Zazen
The vote is in:
I'm sick of politics,
it takes a village statists,
home-grown socialists,
big government, agendas.
I've got a plan.
I'd like to share the wealth--
shove the Buddha up
a Democrat's ass.
Don't get me wrong.
The elephant is past its prime
and staggers under the weight
of self-righteousness.
Neither animal can read
the Constitution that lines
the floor of its pen
where We the People
lies covered in excrement.
The polls are closed.
The vote is in.
Devotees dance and cheer,
shed tears--red, white and blue,
and chant the victor's name.
I'd like to join the party,
drop my pants
and moon Lady Liberty,
but first Shikantaza.
November 02, 2008
S.P.E.L.L.I.N.G. B.E.E.
The highest I got was 530 with a streak of nine. I think that was the first nine words. I tell ya, when they start tossing out those 50-cent words, my brain goes numb. What can I say. My ignorance is enormous. I think I'll go play some more. I mean it's not like I'm busy writing poetry or anything.
October 31, 2008
Bah! Black sheep...
Baa baa black sheep, have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full!
One for the master, one for the dame,
And one for the little boy who lives down the lane.
October 23, 2008
Trinity
Let me hide myself in Thee; ~Augustus M. Toplady, Rock Of Ages
Dear Dave,
Today I went flippin' rocks,
the same gray rocks, familiar rocks,
rocks I've flipped day after day
every day for days on end.
Today I went flippin' rocks,
and there you were--a little white stone
pressed into soft black soil, captive,
waiting. I think I'll keep you.
~~~
The poor King looked puzzled and unhappy, and struggled with the pencil for some time without saying anything; but Alice was too strong for him, and at last he panted out, 'My dear! I really MUST get a thinner pencil. I can't manage this one a bit; it writes all manner of things that I don't intend--' ~Lewis Carroll, Through The Looking-Glass
The White King said to the little Black Prince:
You can dance, but you've never done this.
Fire on my wings, I fell from the sky.
I landed on a mirror. I thought I would die.
I sank into the earth, swallowed yellow flame,
then I rose from the ashes and did it all again.
The Black Prince said to the old White King:
No I never did any of those things.
Magna cum laude, I'm Ivy League.
I've never suffered combat fatigue.
I know how to lecture. I can coo and woo.
I'm smooth as butter, and I look good, too.
~~~
Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace-- but there is no peace. ~Patrick Henry
Turn, turn, turn,
and turn again.
Spin yourselves pencil-thin
like icicles, cold and pale.
Sproutarians, grammarians,
spinsters wearing cats
like pearls, leftists, rightists,
guardians of Jesus,
feminists, futurists,
elitist poets, purists,
patriots and pundits
and all activists,
spin, spin, spin,
and spin again.
Unfold your spindly limbs,
wave your bony fists,
flash your sharp teeth
and silver tongues--
let's talk about love.
~~~
[Today's piece was inspired by the words echolalia and controversial, Dave Bonta's rock-flipping day and letter poems, and the number three.]
October 22, 2008
So many prompts, so little time...
It's also Eat Country Ham month.
I thought Hee Haw's Lulu Roman was dead,
but I was mistaken.
She's just Christian.
Today, October 22nd, is National Nut Day.
Shut up.
October 15, 2008
October 13, 2008
October 09, 2008
October 07, 2008
My muse is drunk
ugly potato's ugly potato
quickly i have never stir, quickly beyond
any ostrich, your box have their ugly:
in your most ugly pot are things which kill me,
or which i cannot ponder because they are too quickly
your soft look too will unpry me
though i have goad myself as soil,
you reach always parrot by parrot myself as candle stretch
(bounceing always, ever) her smooth fire
or if your carrot be to unravel me, i and
my broth will sleep very always, most,
as when the sand of this ostrich pull
the star least everywhere clasping;
nothing which we are to hold in this wind whisper
the margarine of your fresh barn: whose oyster
turn me with the stone of its rock,
calling hand and chest with each revealing
(i do not hide what it is about you that remember
and trade; only something in me paint
the fist of your box is crisp than all candle)
cloud, not even the pebble, has such white turnip
- Agnes & e.e. cummings
Create Your Own Madlib on LanguageIsAVirus.com
October 06, 2008
September 07, 2008
August 15, 2008
Are you kidding me?
This could shock me into writing a political poem. Maybe not. I'm actually at a loss for words. Picture a gape-mouthed fish. That's me. What's wrong with people?