Man, I used to be clever (meaning this is an old poem).

I try to get the words out, the ones that
Brew until my nerves shout
But I don't speak that language


And I can't
Get it out. I breathe it in
And out and in and out again


And the poetry is dead
And the inkwell is dry
And when I think about it all my nerves start to fry


And the fire should be cleansing
But as I slowly burn I become covered in the ashes
Of the mind that I am losing in the flames.

War Cry of a Strong-Willed Child

[Author's note: Sometimes I worry that people will read my poems and think they are all based on events in my life. They aren't. I mean, some of them are, but many of them are based on my surroundings or mood amplified. Some aren't even about me at all. If I only wrote about myself I would kind of suck at this wouldn't I? Anyway, here's another poem for your reading pleasure. Enjoy.]

 
I wouldn't know what to do with adoration
I have no experience with that
But I thank you for your participation
And for being such a damn good sport

And I laugh in the face of your conflagration
That's what you get for your burning heart
For your words and meanings and lamentation
A ribbon-wrapped boot print for your pride

I am quite at home in my fortification
The walls I have built put me at ease
A warm bath has nothing on domination
Control is good to gnash my teeth too    

You watch me watch you in your self-flagellation
I see you clawing against my fence
None of this is literal confrontation
I just want to see hope leave your eyes

Don't fool yourself; I'm not waiting for cessation 
I put those hand holds there just for you
Much for tribute, but naught for decoration
Will you just Climb up here and fight me?

A Petrarchan sonnet as penance for my long absence from this blog

One day, as I walked, I found myself

Desirous of your preference and your touch

And, with reluctance, I will here avouch

When ere we'd meet, my will was then your pelf

Yet, unnoticed, you put me on a shelf

This act my acrimony did debouch

Have you mistaken me for Scaramouch?

In your blindness, you have doomed yourself

 

For you will find Hell's fury is dainty

Weighed with what erudite dames dispense

For you'll ask, but fandango we will not

And you, dear one, will get your recompense

For when you come for me, with certainty

It will be your heart that I have forgot

Clockwork of the Soul (the writing process)

From the ashes of hearth fires

breed Inspiration

Revolution

and many other firebug lightning-quick

extrapolations 



The wary witness catches them

in jars and boxes

and on pages

Errant thoughts-feelings destined to…become

Brought to fruition 

 
They are to be survived upon,

feed those who feed them

Perpetual

motion subsistence farming of the mind

Clockwork of the Soul

There's a Hole in the Bottom of the Sea...And a Whole Lot of Oil Throughout the Sea

The oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico is weighing on my, as it is everyone's, mind. My mind, however, is silly and nerdy so of course the well leak reminded me of the children's song "There's a Hole in the Bottom of the Sea", and because I can't let things like this go I wrote my own version of the song outlining the events surrounding the leak so far. Keep in mind that this song is an admittedly overly simplistic representation of what has happened. To see a more thorough timeline of the spill, direct yourself here: http://www.nola.com/news/gulf-oil-spill/index.ssf/2010/05/a_timeline_of_the_gulf_of_mexi.html. But in the meantime, please enjoy my handiwork.

 

There's a hole in the bottom of the sea

There's a hole in the bottom of the sea

There's a hole –There's a hole

There's a hole in the bottom of the sea

 

There's oil coming out of the hole in the bottom of the sea

There's oil coming out of the hole in the bottom of the sea

There's oil – coming out

Of the hole in the bottom of the sea

 

Set fire to the oil coming out of the hole in the bottom of the sea

Set fire to the oil coming out of the hole in the bottom of the sea

Set fire – to the oil

Coming out of the of the hole in the bottom of the sea

 

Put a box on the hole in the bottom of the sea

Put a box on the hole in the bottom of the sea

The box – isn't working

On the hole in the bottom of the sea

 

Put a tube in the hole in the bottom of the sea

Put a tube in the hole in the bottom of the sea

The tube – like the box

Can't plug the hole in the bottom of the sea

 

Try again with the tube in the hole in the bottom of the sea

Try again with the tube in the hole in the bottom of the sea

The tube – is draining oil

From the hole in the bottom of the sea

 

Tar balls float ashore from the hole in the bottom of the sea

Tar balls float ashore from the hole in the bottom of the sea

Tar balls – and lots of oil

Float ashore from the hole in the bottom of the sea

 

BP owns the oil coming out of the hole in the bottom of the sea

BP lies about the amount oil coming out of the hole in the bottom of the sea

BP –admits

There's more oil than they thought

 

Beaches close because of the oil coming out of hole in the bottom of the sea

Beaches close because of the oil coming out of the hole in the bottom of the sea

Beaches close – because of the oil

Coming out of the hole in the bottom of the sea

 

Can't get fish from the water with the oil from the hole in the bottom of the sea

Can't get fish from the water with the oil from the hole in the bottom of the sea

Can't get fish – from the water

With the oil from the hole in the bottom of the sea

 

BP uses Corexit to dissolve the oil from the hole in the bottom of the sea

BP uses Corexit (a toxic chemical) to dissolve the oil from the hole in the bottom of the sea

BP –uses Corexit

To dissolve the oil from the hole in the bottom of the sea

 

BP dumps mud in the hole in the bottom of the sea

BP dumps mud in the hole in the bottom of the sea

BP – dumps mud

In the hole in the bottom of the sea

 

The mud plugs the hole in the bottom of the sea (for now)

The mud plugs the hole in the bottom of the sea (for now)

The mud – plugs the hole

The hole in the bottom of the sea

 

To be continued…

 

 

An Exercise in Alliteration (also, quite the run-on sentence)

Wandering, winnowing, wistful wildebeest,

wishing wonderful wonderments of wit,

crashes carefully, colorfully, colliding with

bounding bounties of bygone boy-scouts, whose

remains remain remnants with restful recyclables,

lacerating liquorish-lipped ladies on lithographs

whilst autumnal authors of augmented albums

propagate perplexingly preposterous pillow-talk with

yelled yelps of yellowed yesterdays and

uttering unflattering, undulating untruths at

frightened and flummoxed flighty females who,

mincing mightily, moreover, monstrously to

westward wonders of wild willows

wish warlords what they will.

A couple of older poems, just to get the ball rolling:

Snow
The sky is falling
In beautiful soft pieces of frozen love
Snow
Large fluffy scraps like cornflakes
Manna from heaven
Falling on my world
Kissing and caressing the fallen leaves
Which blanket the earth, protecting it from the cold touch of heaven
Ice turns to tears, melting into insubstantial liquid
Sliding ineffectively into the soil
Lost, but beautifully and immediately replaced
By other frozen kisses

Springtime Indoors
The smell of flowering trees is on the air
The sounds of pain and suffering echo by
As afterthoughts of time gone by
Reminding me of all the questions and those who question why
But I am strangely happy on this day
Or maybe not so much happy as
Calm and quite alive

As the wind tries to suck my blinds out through my opened window
The sun plays, running in and out from behind the clouds
The world it beckons softly, wishing that I’d come play
But what’s the use in playing with that which cannot,
With that which you’ve anthropomorphized?

And secrets intermingle with the smell of my shampoo
As the wind blows softly through my hair
And I wonder what to say, to whom, and why
And as the sound of playful laughter wanders in from below my window
I wonder, contently, why would anyone want to ever get out of bed?