FEAR AND HATING

napowrimo#3 for daily poem...prompt was fear or what scares you



FEAR AND HATING

a fear of travelling to some cemetery
in a long black limousine
with a group of assholes
who can't handle booze
Rush Limbaugh and the O'Reilly factor
crapping all over health care
as they nurse their rot gut
and broken souls
never confessisng to dirty hotel rooms
listening to Dr. Gonzo and Hunter Thompson
profoundly angry
arguing their shittrain of theories
about cue balls and circus people
suppressing their forest of fears
stress
violence
substance abuse
depression
insecurities of their minds
wondering what happened
to Oscar Acosta

RARE WITCH PROJECT

Using the acronym RWP


RARE WITCH PROJECT

she lived in a mysterious lair
in some spiraling mountain
frozen beyond time
her ugly face
always plastered in frown
never understanding
the laughter of Banjo and Kazooie
who lived in the flowers and meadows
with their beautiful sister Tooty
who she kidnapped because of jealousy
then she poisoned the water
cut down the flowers
turned the meadows into cemetries
tear up the gardens
Gruntilda was rotten to the core
jealous
who lied and cheated all her life
wanting the land and everyone
to be ugly as she

SHUFFLE DEMON

RWP napowrimo#1...using titles of 5 songs...at random....from my CD player
Title of songs are in CAPITALS

RIDE by Robert Earl Keen
BLUE UMBRELLA by John Prine
THE LAND OF PLENTY by Leonard Cohen
THAT DON'T MAKE IT JUNK by Leonard Cohen
TEN DAY POEM FOR SASKATCHEWAN by The Warped 45'S

SHUFFLE DEMON

dogs barked over the graveyard
everybody remaining silent
embracing the winds of change
lingering
unable to RIDE

watching the candles dim
burning in a new world
behind the door of lost chances
soaking
under some BLUE UMBRELLA

hearing the forces of yesterday
crying deep under the ground
beneath their swallowed burdens
digging
for THE LAND OF PLENTY

dumping dirt
on humpty and the dump trucks
driving down a prairie road
clunkin
but THAT DON'T MAKE IT JUNK

escaping the noisy mufflers
where the sounds of the shuffle demon
constantly change
writing
a TEN DAY POEM FOR SASKATCHEWAN

Magpies

RWP#120 using the image Gathering...credit Alice Popkorn



MAGPIES

Magpies
siting on the fence
bold
an early riser
stealing the light
always waking us up
ready to lecture
chew us out
tease our dog
then steal his food
magpies
sitting on the fence
having words
with some distant coyote
berating the gypsies
reprimanding
the cowbows
dressing down
the lost buffalo
that once roamed the hills
magpies
sitting on the fence
correcting
the mourning poets
with their dead words
castigating
the agnostice tabernacle choir
and their lost hymns
jawing
at the drunk umpire
who couldn't count
magpies
sitting on the fence
laughing
talking
waiting
you are me
I am you

TIME WITHOUT MEMORY

RWP#116...a draft Using this photo by H.Koppdelaney


TIME WITHOUT MEMORY

It has been a blink
of clock ticks
ticking away since conception
lost forgotten moments
never to be returned
progresssing towards a place
where memories are lost
moving on to some other time
with a declining body
without a fresh metabolism
no longer hung up
on high button shoes
and unrealistic dreams
to a place without heartache
or faked death below the watchtower
leaving the burning palace of conception
the distant temples of conquest
and the shadows of the past behind
now in a dark boat above a river
surrounded by advice never taken
blinded by the expressions
never spoken
with some ancient ferryman
guiding a lost soul
of some newly deceased
across the Styx
a river of no return
descending to the underworld
the last voyage into eternity
where nothing is real
where souls jitterbug to jazz
beating to the hearts of yesterday
lost in no sense of conquest
listening to Huxley's psychobabble
and his meaningless abstractions
that never rhyme
without lords or creatures of faith
clutching to their rusted boughs
drinking a sweet adrogynous liquid
celebrating the dead survivors
who once moaned in the graveyards
lonely and frozen in time
gazing at the bright searchlights
that shine on the nuns
playing tennis without rackets
invisible with no strings attached
beyond the light in the tunnel
without struggles or sober thoughts
moving towards time
that has no memory

BELIEVING

RWP#115..



BELIEVING NOT KNOWING

believing to be washed away
to some unknown place
not knowing if my robes
will be clean or dry
believing there will be poets
in their solitude
not knowing if there will be angels
that make me cry

believing to have insight
into some sacred mind
not knowing if the journey
will be covered in gold
believing it will be a pure land
of sober drunks
not knowing their language
of stories never told

believing the air will be pierced
with beauty and jazz
not knowing if the notes
will be felt or heard
believing Satchmo will blow his horn
along Bourbon towards Boogie street
not knowing if it will be birdland
or the land of absurd

HOME

(using one of the words from prompt..red) this is a draft

HOME


looking through the eyes
of yesterdays perceptions
beyond forgotten places
there was a sea of red
above some flooding torrent
of endless tomorows

in this disenchanted place
I once knew as home
now tarnished like a bronze arrow
after centuries of rusting salt
my head keeps sailing
towards some crackling winter storm

tomorrow I will awake
before the ancient dawn
touching the universe with my fingertips
standing still watching the stars
gathering silence with simplicity
listening to the distant dolphins at home