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Monthly Archives: December 2021

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4:30 AM isn’t too late to stay up cooking up something.
 
Looking at a blank screen that is begging for some input. 
Frustration mixed with the expectation 
that maybe something will materialize. 

The fridge calls, 
the wind howls, 
and the cell beeps its updates. 

But where is the actual blank screen? 
It isn’t really the glaring blue screen the burning bleary eyes stare at. 
Instead,
everything the chattering mind registers as uninteresting and unworthy of poetry. 

Poetry. 

What is it anyway? 
You know it when you hear and see it, 
yet a poem cannot be defined or adequately explained.

And poetry doesn’t feel like it’s contrived. 

Yet, 
how many have sat behind keyboards or blank papers or parchments 
with quill in hand, waiting … 

Hours fly by.
Whiskers get heavier. 
The pot becomes rounder 
      and softer.

Coffee doesn’t help. 
Maybe a sedative? 
Impatience settles in like ticks on a mangy dog. 
The feeling that there just isn’t enough time nags you like a dripping faucet. 

But like old faithful, 
the pressure builds 

until the feverish tapping of keys.





 
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Posted by on December 31, 2021 in Poetry

 

Blood Orange

from the stocking

to the counter, the razor-sharp knife

slices the head and tail off

watch it bleed, mouth waters

The Christmas house, rooms scented

orange peel and date-pit chickory

sip by the golden regal tree,

starburst section squirts blood-red

red from orange, green, and gold

Big Ben chimes the end, but it lingers

more than the eyes or senses combined

the child shall lead on to the next

whose blood atoned
 
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Posted by on December 29, 2021 in Poetry

 

Reading Between the Lines at a Christmas Dinner

edgy like a raging wedgie 
got my shorts in a wad, 
ride over you roughshod 
i can be a clod 
a bull in a china shop 
give you a karate chop - 
chop-chop, 
so you better stop it - 
it's time to drop it
...understand? 
before i get outa hand 
and 
i blow a gasket 
putting you in a casket 
a-tisket a-tasket 
go to hell in a hand basket 
best not risk it 
don't be a sh*t biscuit 
when my temper goes south 
i use my potty-mouth 
(*cuz i'm low on wit but i'll never admit it) 
opening a can-o-whoop-ass 
yours will be grass 
you better not trespass 
on me, who you can't figure 
i got a hair-trigger 
thinking my boys are bigger
 no tact or diplomacy
 cuz i'm crapulent, 
u see? 
gives me flatulency 
a leaky one
i'm no fun 
tear you a new one 
so yuz better run



 
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Posted by on December 26, 2021 in Poetry

 

Christmas Eve 1975 -Haiku

46 years ago
God's love dawned upon my heart
reborn from above
 
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Posted by on December 24, 2021 in haiku, Poetry

 

Shepherd -Haiku

God is my shepherd
sheep cannot care for themselves
Ba-a Ba-a-a


 
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Posted by on December 24, 2021 in haiku, Poetry

 

Room -Haiku

The inn had no room
born with the farm animals--
Will you make him room?

 
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Posted by on December 24, 2021 in haiku, Poetry

 

Withness -Haiku

Christmas is about
the elephant in the room
with everyone now





 
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Posted by on December 24, 2021 in haiku, Poetry

 

To Catch a Monkey

A farmer’s market and gift shop
shelved with overpriced bric-a-brac
a diversion for a winter afternoon
for two out of tune lovers, present
to their dissonance.

a handmade Amish sock monkey
by its jocular expression
provided an explanation
for the mismatch, for you see
the silly monkey jumps from tree to tree
never content where it is. Maybe
(it reasons) the palm before
has sweeter fruit – but then
sees the one ahead.

To catch the squirrelly thing,
put a sweet in a hollow coconut shell
with a hole just large enough for its hand
to enter. When it grabs the candy, it makes
a fist wider than the hole
used to enter the nut
the greedy thing won’t let go
tethering it to the coconut
chained to the ground.

We bought two sock monkeys.

 
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Posted by on December 21, 2021 in Poetry

 

Boned

the person declared
I’m never coming back, no,
not on the third try or the fourth…

bridges fractured…

what can be addressed
to bones?

someone said,
they saw him huddled, pinched,
and drawn — ghost-like

Grim hunted like
a vulture for the hyena’s leftovers

an unhallowed barking laughter

any chance
you knew the prey?

 
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Posted by on December 21, 2021 in Poetry

 

Add

A guy named Burke said
all communication is drama,

the essence of which is conflict,
most communication is an attempt
to atone for guilt
or to prove rightness.

Drama adds flavor; just ask big media
who follow the showbiz strategy
that if it doesn’t bleed, it doesn’t read.

There’s got to be a scandalous leak or a trial.
Yes, viruses work, too, as long as
there is a collision of opinion
on addressing them.
Political philosophies

create ideologies and worldviews that
fuel the drama into a panicked frenzy.
Add the guilt created by virtue-signaling,
purposefully produced moral outrage.

After all, according to some empty talking heads,
shouldn’t we all be the same, think
the same, look the same, hate the same, eat
the same, drive the same, vote the same,
and spout the same globalist nonsense?

Penetrate the bs with mindfulness,
the drama, the artificial flavor, the woven
the spun

*yawn –they’re crying wolf again…
omg. chicken’s got the sky falling again…
& watch the evening news flop.

ad infinitum ad nauseam

 
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Posted by on December 20, 2021 in Poetry