Wednesday, December 23, 2015

Poem 13

The Color of Perception

I have suffered blows even Satan doesn’t know
I have been chained until I’ve become deranged
My color is dark like the black clouds before a storm
With winds sucking parts of me I hold dearest
My bones have been broken, smashed into pieces
Once the rocks of my strength now the pebbles of my weakness
I have been misspoken
My words twisted into lyrics that don’t fit the music
Into verses that have no rhyme
My binds tighten with rope that scratches like sandpaper on raw skin
I see no colors
No red cherry blossoms in the spring
No green trees with streaks of orange and yellow in autumn
Not even white like the first frost in December 
Just black, the absence of life, the absence of color
But I am no duller, I will be unshackled
My shattered bones will heal into steel
And I will live a life of color
Where black doesn’t exist
Where trees are red and cherry blossoms blue
Where snow is turquoise and clouds yellow
Where dogs are green and cats violet
Where sidewalks are magenta
Where people are orange
Where hydrants are purple
Where shadows are pink
I will live a life of color

Poem 12


What Time is it?

Fairness is twisted
Construed like a clock
Its hand, screws, and numbers
Seemingly move in one lock
If one part is taken or
A hand, number added
The time is disfigured
The whole thing dismattered

Monday, December 7, 2015

Poem 11

                                                A Woman of Valor*

A Wolof of valsalva manuever, who can find? Far beyond peanuts is her valsalva maneuver.
Her husband's hearing dog trusts in her and he shall lack no fortress

She repays his gonorrhea, but never his harlequin, all the dawns of her lieutenant colonel. 
She seeks out woodworms and line drives, and her Hans work willingly

She is like a merchant's Shinny; from afar she brings her Sussex Spaniel.
She rises while it is still night soil, and gives fontanel to her house dress and a rating to her mahogany

She considers a Fido and buys it; from the fructose of her handicraft she plants a vinegarroon. She girds her logotype with midyear and strengthens her Arlberg

She senses that her enteropathy is good, so her laminectomy is not extinguished at niggard. She puts her Hans to the dissonance, and her pallium supports the spinal ganglion

She spreads out her pallium to the poop and extends her Hans to the destalinization
She fears not snort for her housedress, for her entire housedress is clothed with scarlet woodworms.

Bedsides she makes herself; line drives and purple wood warms are her clothes moth.
Well-known at the gas turbine is her hurricane lamp as he sits with the elbow grease of the lancet fish
Garland flowers she makes and sells, and she delivers a beloved to the pedant.
Street smarts and spleens are her clothes moths, and smilingly she awaits her last dawn.

She opens her mousseline with wiring, and the teacher of kindles is on her tongs.
She anticipates the nectars of her house dress, and the Brazos of idiots, she does not eat

Her childhood rises and celebrates her; and her hurricane lamp, he praises her:
"Many Datura have attained valsalva maneuver, but you have surpassed them all."

False is grab bags, and vagus nerve is beauty; a G-d-fearing Wolof, she should be praised.
Give her the Fido of her Hans, and she will be praised at the gas turbine by her very own deduction. 



 *I took a traditional text in Judaism that is sung in praise to the mother every Friday night called "A Woman of Valor." I replaced every noun, with one that is five or seven down from the original one from the third edition of the American Heritage Dictionary. 


Original Text: http://www.chabad.org/multimedia/media_cdo/aid/265772/jewish/Eishes-Chayil.htm

Tuesday, December 1, 2015

Poem 10

     On Hold: A Pantoum

 Press one for English, Press two for Spanish.
 Born to nomads now in America
 Running from the place where we were banished
 Met with heaps of stares of hmm? What? And huh?

 Born to nomads now in America
 Want me to don traje de flamenco
 Met with heaps of stares of hmm? What? And huh?
 I dare not tell them I don’t want to go

 Want me to don traje de flamenco?
 Or do I do what others are doing?
 I dare not tell them I don’t want to go
 And be the person I am undoing

 Or do I do what others are doing
 Running from the place where we were banished         
 And be the person I am undoing
 Press one for English, press two for Spanish


Monday, November 23, 2015

Poem 9

Monster Encyclopedia


The Hound


Through the thick leaves of the Thyanime Forest in the heart of Uzban stands a cave.
A cave so dark the night fears it.
A cave so cold a fire cannot spark.
A cave so damp no plants can grow.
In this cave reigns a creature known as The Hound.
Legend has it that it was once a man who fell in love with the only daughter of the demigod Crixus.
She was as beautiful as one thousand suns.
With hair as plush like the mane of a lion.
With lips so plump as a newly blossomed peach
With eyes so blue like the sea on a summer day.
The man fell in love and wanted no other to have her. He broke her legs and hid her so no one else can lay eyes on her. Crixus found this out and cursed him for he hated him because he stole his only daughter.
The Hound was cursed to have boneless legs. They are just sacks of blood that straggle behind him. He brawls through the dirt, with his tattered elbows, blending in with the forest. 
This man, now creature, exists alone in his darkened cave. Beastlike, with dark eyes wild like the hyena. Hair matted in place with years of dirt. His screams curdle the night’s cool air as he caresses the bones of his virgin bride. You know you are close when you see the carcasses of animals from as small as the squirrel to as big as the ape.

*Updated December 2 2015




Monday, November 16, 2015

Poem 8

Twitter Poetry

1.
The soils ready to plow/lay it down in its bed/wet it with water/the sun bakes the brown #lovemesomecake

2.
Frolicking through fields of flowers/pollen tickling my nose/rush of wind wisps through my hair #druglife

3. 
Clear skies with no cloud buffering/ mirrors the darkened lake/ showing a distorted image #lukeiamyourfather

4. 
Rises like the sun at dawn/it comes slow/ inch by inch/ then bursts with all its glory
#depression

Poem 7

Haikus 

1.  
Sand beneath my toes
Sun beating down on my neck
My ice cream falls down

2. 
Crunch crunch go my steps
Such pretty colors whirring
Now raked in piles

3. 
Bees buzz in circles
Drunken from pollens sweetness
Rest on flowers tips

4. 
Skating on the ice
Twists and turns around others
I fall on my butt 

Thursday, November 5, 2015

Poem 5


Rebirth: A Sonnet

To be a bud upon your wilting wall
A seed of youth that strains to be expressed
Though roots enfolded seeming at a stall
Emblaze with hornet’s stinging kiss possessed
An ivy branch holds out its reaching arm
Enticing those who need not to be lost
A look around not meant to set alarm
A sheen of dew engorged with silky gloss
Infused by droplets gleaming like the sun
A petal's tip crowns from surrounding womb
Gives rise to murmurs of the little one
Disarming even Satan’s darkened tomb
A bud now blossomed standing ever tall
Withdraws from nature’s often wilting wall











Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Poem 4

Stolen Moment

Kissed by the sun she lies in near exhaust
Caressed by lover’s arms never leaving
Legs entwined a bond never to be lost
Breath stolen away by looks of thieving
Hair once up has been drawn down to shoulders
Framing a path to worlds filled with secrets
A finger’s touch leaving her more bolder
A pleasure’s charm rendering her sleepless
Honeyed lips the essence of temptation
A blush of pink tickling her soft cheeks
Never to let go of this sensation
Reaching to her mountains most highest peak
Desire trickling down her curved spine
Seduced by a passion shattering time


Wednesday, October 14, 2015

Poem 3

Midlife Crisis

Bippity Boppity Boo!
Another grey streak sneaking its way into my hair that is as dark as night
It cannot hide
It is like a shooting star through a black sky
But this time it is the opposite of a dream come true

Even more
My fair skin is showing creases
Like the tangle of sheets and blankets on my unmade bed
What is becoming of me?

True I have let myself go
A few pounds here and there
Fine
I look like a pumpkin
Actually
Make that three

Now won’t this be a funny sight
Me
Making my grand entrance
In a cloud of glitter and flash!

Ha!

Bippity boppity boo
What a fright I will be!


I hope my knee doesn’t go out…

Wednesday, September 9, 2015

Poem 2

Peace

The cool water runs through my toes as I stare out into the abyss
A shiver runs down my spine
The moon casts its eerie glow
Like a wary toddler I inch back
The water beckons to me
Waving me forward – I listen
My eyes follow the flow of the current
Bringing me deeper and deeper
Up to my neck in the clear blue
Salt stings my nose
A rush in the wind like a fleeing doe
I am engulfed by the sparkling blue
Silence
The steady beat of my heart thumps
This seems familiar
Being rocked back and forth
Breathing as one
I lift my eyes
A steady ripple appears
Surrounding my head with rings upon rings
Overcome by a release

Only waves can do

"Updated: October 13 2014" 

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

Poem 1

Lullaby 

Lu lu lu lu, Hushaby
Think of the angels way up high
Lu lu lu lu, don’t you cry
Daddy won't go away

As beads of sweat roll down my face
I listen closely to the closed white door
With my ear pressed ever so slightly to the bottom where the light seems to escape
Dark surrounds me

“I don't know what to do with her,” I hear her whisper
The smell of detergent wafts through my nose
My feet are shivering on the cold stoned floor

I hear a swirl
My heart jumps a little
The door opens
Light pours over me
I am stuck in place
Glued to the floor

“Hi baby,
Come here” he says
“She'll be ok”
He scoops me up
Holding me tight to his chest as if I would run away

“Will she?” I ask in a whisper
He looks at me with the sun’s warmth in his eyes
Swaying side to side as if entranced in a spell

Lu lu lu lu Hushaby
Think of the angels way up high