30 Poems in 30 Days (Redux)

1-3

America
in 1964 the door opens
to white and square and God
help those who don't fit there
God help the man with a horn
and a dream turned to night
spiked in the arm blue in the
soul the vein gut weary blue
of bars and jails the world
of lamentation in measured
bleat the swoop the timbre
like singing loss is everywhere
longing for a night in Tunisia
in Paris, Copenhagen a man
can be a man a song
can have a voice.
 
1/3 Cocktails for three.....following the booze theme

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It was my idea,
I knew his fantasy
And wanted to realise it
As a Christmas gift to end
All gifts. Instead it ended our
Marriage, he left with my best friend.
 
1-3

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Boilermaker


It should have been a Boilermaker
to smite my nerves
Boom
a shot dropping
Boom
depth charge
Whiskey oil swirls
Sucked in neat sips
see
the sunken treasure
glass in a glass
see
the glorious wreckage
of final restraints
Washing to shore in tongue-laps
here
there

But because it was not seemly,
I ordered white wine.
 
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1-4

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Drambuie

Who would have thought
this heather could be so inviting, thick,
floral? That this honeyed sweet
was backed by such a tang?

It must be the Scots
heritage—the Lowland earthiness,
the coolness of the Kinchie Burn.
Just a little more along the tongue.

No way is this a Rusty Nail.
 
1-3

the sky's triple toned hue
clouds swirl and eddy
reflect the rays of the setting sun
its light dies, another day done
final, clock unerringly
irrevocably tick, tick, ticks

memories stretched
as years punch in
spring
in your step
has become a rusty creak
years constantly leak
drip, drip. drip
still we seek
the next horizon
world spins on
rolls round
while we wait
for the next day to drop
and our tomorrows to
stop
 
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1-3 Seasonal Change

He'd been an infrequent
guest, hanging out in bars
just wasn't really a favorite
past time, but his choice
was standard and one
the bartender had made
note of.
"I knew it was you, when
I heard vodka and Coke,"
she'd said last week. The
thought of it made him
smile tonight as he saw her
reach for the soda hose.
"Not tonight, need something
a little healthier,
let me get a screwdriver."
 
1-2

Wake up early
To swirling darkness
Like static in your eyes
A veil in your mind
A buzz in your ears
Before sound
Before the smell of coffee.
Sweet memories, oh lazy days
Fading away to nothing.
Put on your working boots
(Shine 'em up!)
Prepare to plod through
'Cause carpe diem, baby.
Seize the day
Live the moment
Waste away
Every moment. Dull.
Like a machine. Numb.
Results, results
Faster, faster
Off the curve
(You rebel!)
So reckless
 
1-4

Feral, kicked, bitten
flea ridden
home was under a house
where you were abused
shoes thrown at you
no clue what you had done
no fun in your little life
fuck you were tough
a survivor
a battler
no one could get near
their fear at your aggression
an obsession to kill arose

I admired you
indomitable, undefeated
by the hand you were dealt
shot at, poison bait
that you ate
still wouldn't lay down
wouldn't quit
wouldn't die

I had to meet you
for weeks I sat
little lumps of meat
a trail like Hansle and Grettle
left
till you would sit at my feet
never defeat in your step
arrogant pride in graceful stride

finally you would hop on my lap
content you sat, my hand stroking
your fur, black and white
a mighty beast purrs a rumble
you lapped up affection

they looked on concerned
for my safety
for my sanity
I was saying hello
to a kindred spirit

A vagabond feral well met
 
1-5 The Motives Remain Murky

"The Arapahoe High School senior who shot a fellow student Friday in the
school's hallways before killing himself was no longer an active participant
on the debate team—possibly among the motives behind the attack."



Reading this morning's headline
says the motive remains murky
and ends with: his intent was evil.
I think really? Really?
REALLY?

Did this kid really bring his weapon,
stockpiled ammo and Molotov cocktails
for show-and-tell?
Shot a girl in the head?
All because he got kicked off the debate team
and didn't get his way?

What the fuck, Chuck? This happens
too much. What happened telling a friend
if you're fucked up? Did cellphones
kill suicide hotlines? What about popping
anti-depressants and seeing psychs?

What happened to the time
when a kid was pissed off at the world,
hurt or bummed, would end their life
and their life alone?
Teen suicide go out of fashion?
If it did, bring it back.

Back in high school I remember
Stewart, a tall, quiet pothead
made huffing glam for his fellow potheads.
He sniffed that Super Glue
until he became unglued, lost more brain cells
than anyone could ever count.
Senior year, day after Christmas
he curled his big toe around a trigger
of his rifle. My yearbook that year had
two-page dedication for the loss of Stew.

Mary did it too, gave her bullies
something to chew on as she swung
by her neck from the biggest cedar in town.

And confession, I have a silver scar
under my eye from a twenty-two,
bullet through the cheek and grazing,
an attempt, last minute change of mind
before I lost my mind. Point is,
I did it to myself and didn't bring it
to school taking others with me.

The saying goes: Teen suicide, don't do it
but the thing is, they are still doing it,
doing it in all new evil, egotistical, self-centered way
and why? Why? WHY?

Lack of good parenting skills? Schools not involved?
Bullying? Big Pharma fails us again?
I don't know. The motives remain murky.
 
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1-4

If eyes could see
beyond the skin beyond the tall
cloak of difference the strangeness
not in the bones or the sound
but only in perception what
you see is only your reality what
you think you see isn't real
but listen to the song
and feel the way you're spun
along a rapid little beat suspended
on a slow reeling ballad and the man
behind the horn is a man
not a cipher bent to a sound a man
real in the skin real in the truth.
 
1 - 4

no poem

the switch is faulty
toggle it
back and forth
no juice
no muse amused enough to
bite
or even nibble
no
quibble on invisi-lips
no frowns, no
quips
just blinkers, cursing
as they do
and fingers undelivering
this no poem to you

mea culpa
 
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1/4 Nothing But Nonsense

Doppelganger cockle teasers
Waistcoat wearing pollen sneezers
Wasted wisdom. Home based hacker
Hardened jailbird. Sushi snacker
Sneaky reader, book-end busters
Peeping Thomas, lady lustre’s
Moose hair mittens. Frog pool filter
Fanny whacker found off kilter
Mad on Monday, week-long wonder
Stunning sunsets, distant thunder
Pinching pinneys, Itching bug bites
Daytime savings, Restless midnights
Slightly flighty punctuation,
Very awkward situation.
 
1-4

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Chibuku Shake-Shake


Yvonne Chaka Chaka
Kwasa Kwasa
Zaiko langa langa
Kids in flipflops
swish swish swish
boys strut, girls
pull chitenjes tight around
slim hips and printed
politicians shake shake
on their butts
Go little girl! Go!
A massive Mama
carries in Chibuku cartons
gives each a shake shake
snips off tops with a scissors
And the men drink
and drink
until they need to pee
Shake shake


(Chibuku Shake Shake is a strange, almost chewy beer/slop concoction served in Southern Africa in what look exactly like milk cartons. Not in my top 50 or even 100 alcoholic beverages - but cheap!)
 
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1 - 4

Gingerbread Prisoner

"Nibble nibble, like a mouse,
who is nibbling on my house?"

The echoes of her words still
gnawed away as I kicked back
and flipped through ancient
periodicals--things even a doctor's
office wouldn't try and keep around,

I tried to ignore the foods she
kept slipping through the bars, but
her cooking was so exquisite, like
tasting joy in every bite, a joy I
hesitated to want to indulge in,
now that I knew something of her
favorite menu items.

She must have something special
planned for the holiday, the entire
space reeks of orange--sometimes
zest, other times freshly squeezed
juice--I would worry about what else
was being juiced, except my sister
still manages to slip little items to me
now and then. A toothbrush...clean
clothes--one item at a time, mind you,
this morning she managed to bring me
an entire mug of still warm cocoa.

"I have a plan, let her think you're getting
fat enough for her tastes," she told me in
a hushed voice, hoarse from the crying
she would never admit to, even if I had
asked about it. I smiled and pulled her soft
hand into my too-small space and kissed it.

"Good. I hope it's something deadly."
 
1-5

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Eau de Vie

I would have thought water
would be the Water

of Life, but I guess it’s brandy
in La France. Fruit

figures into human history
as well, though usually

it’s an apple opens our eyes.
Here, it’s une poire, a pear,

which has its own associations
with Eve and her daughters,

Solomon nibbling pomes,
sipping wine. And the Mystery—

why, inside a hipped bottle,
does the Creator cache the fruit?
 
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1-6 Beer Over Reality

Cody Brown gets to keep his Sister Wives
because polygamy is legal,
Utah A-OK's plural marriages
(sans license, go figure, that's still illegal.)

Some men would envy Mr Brown
with his perks of a different woman
every night, whenever he wants
never leaving bed, no scorn, no wrath
live the Fundamentalist way
(aka sucking the life of the state's teet).


But me, I think past the cock;
that's four times the headache
and seventeen more heartaches.
No money, no money (unless reality TV,
thanks TLC). No thanks, I'd rather
an ice cold case of Polygamy beer.
That hangover is more of a pain I can afford.
 
1-5

The Royal Roost
is a chicken shack on Broadway
and 47th ivey-divey downtown
not The Street but close enough
for jazz and otherwise known
as the Metropolitan Bopera House
Duke tilts his ironic smile Diz gapes
and jives for the camera the First
Lady of Song coiffed in a halo
of fur closes her eyes somewhere
there's heaven how faint the tune
the hi-hat spins and shimmers light
shrinks to a spot and here's Dex
behatted, a rumpled punctuation
a horn and plumes of smoke
a tone poem, New York City, 1948.
 
1-5

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Dirty Martini

'I like to have a martini,Two at the very most.After three I'm under the table,after four I'm under my host.'
- Dorothy Parker



Spotlight and shadow
sparkle and sequin
slow oh, slow
let her entertain you
feathers fishnet
flesh -more than a fistful

She’ll show you
the olive, strip
off gloves
saunter over
shimmy
gulp

sure is a
Helluva show
 
1 - 5

Has pomegranate always been
so cloying a taste? I can
remember Shirley Temples and
Roy Rogers when my dad was
having wine or some sort of
whiskey highball, but the red-tinge
of my drinks showed off their
altered sweetness without being
bothersome. This? This is like
liquid sandalwood, coating tongue
and throat, alike, enough to
provoke me to indulge in something
salty and savory. Like your skin,
or the taste of your kisses.
 
1-5

why do you choose to hurt yourself so?
bright anger's merely something hot to hold
asserts focus
at the expense of new scars
over old wounds
 
1-3

Warm resonant tingling
Wall crumbling feeling
Dam breaking flowing
Heart struck pouring
Until
Nothing is left of me.
But how I want to.
*sigh*
...if only.
Storm within silence
Silence within sound
Emptiness within words.
So incomplete.
 
1-5

glasses trampled
beneath eagre feet
hair flicked, arms loop
over neck
provocative
playful, sensual
she kisses my lips
hers, then mine again

step back to let
you trace those places
neck, jaw, wrist, ear
hands dancing away just before
brushing delicates
treating skin like cashmere
enjoy the sensation
through finger tips
stop just short
a tease,
ease you both onto the bed

undulating movement
restless legs, hips attack
the air as if it will satiate
desire, fire, admire it all
snap a mental picture
clothes disappear
in a magic moment of movement
exposed

hands tickle and glide up
two pairs of thighs
you breathe into each other
twin grins, a giggle
both wriggle down the bed

massage and knead,
trembling muscles,
coarse tussled downy hair
the other one bare

kisses increase in accepted ardour
fingers rub and penetrate,
their lips locked,
hands daring to stroke bared skin
twisting fingers spin,

three connected
a circuit joined
pulsing live wire, fire
imminent,
which one burns first
cries mirror, a race
photo finish
arrived at the same time
breathless
waiting to go again

while I stand ready to begin
 
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1-6

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Fior d’Alpe

She was a flower, all right,
even one alpine—

choice parts of her anatomy
white peaks to climb.

But she left a hangover
when we were done and done.

She took off with my wallet.
I, bereft, kept her comb.
 
1-7 A Gift Tower Falls

The gift basket was ordered, arriving
a few days before Christmas,
all before we knew. Please, please
forgive the appropriateness,
the wines, cookies and candies.

If I had known, I'd agonized
what exactly do I give to someone
who has stage 4 cancer?

I'm sorry.
So far it's been silence
ignoring, and guilt then more guilt
at a loss of what to say,
to do, to comfort, to help.

I do however, know for whatever,
whenever you need, in that instance,
I'm there, I'm right there with you,
just ask and it's yours.
 
1-6

come
lay your head
dream with the sun
warmed stone smoothed by centuries
millennia of breezes
rains
ice's cool embrace
find your centre
in calm
steady yourself
to face hurricanes
that prove no more than dull gusts
 
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