The Poetry Collection - Part 3

A One-cat night

This is the last group of the poems from the past. It appears that I must have been observing and processing some relationship dramas as told from the perspectives of both men and women. Many of them are dark and make me wonder now what might have inspired them. Despite this uncertainty, I must say I like them and they still seem to express how I sometimes see the world and my place in it as a woman and one who wants to figure things out about myself and others. To me seeing dark drama can be disturbing but useful and interesting. "Happy endings all the time" is unrealistic and frankly - boring. Thanks for reading.  (Next post will be tales from my trip South - stay tuned)
 

Rumination 

I was not likely to please anyone…

…my mind wanders over the landscape pondering how the Grand Canyon was born. Little by little I draw a face with a stick

Calculations wrong again.

Diplomacy negates good intentions for justice.

Dallying with immeasurable research about neither parenthetical nor grand ideas.

Relatively meeting opposites to attract a burning coalition of chum or foe.

Rumination marches me forward into the mind of the tortured tyrant.

A makeshift and self-made prison is my fate.

…I was not likely to please anyone.  
 

Mother

The strange part of it all is that

the fight started without warning.

I called his mother a drunken mess

and he exploded

leaped on me

growling, snarling, foaming - a mad dog

Jeez, attacked me like an animal

biting and scratching.

The red eerie glow emanating from his eyes

beamed through the cold night air.

A hard blow to my mouth knocked out my bridge

sent me bouncing to the solid concrete.

Satisfied that he had taught me a lesson

he spit on me, kicked me one last time

then made a triumphant exit

whistling a snappy sappy little tune. 

My body hurt - ached - down to the toenails

any passerby could see I wasn't well

scooped up my bridge - my head hotter than hell

how I made it home - it's hard to tell

Safe now..OK… yeah ….but she is one!, I had to yell! 
 

Old Bill

Old Bill on the park bench sat alone watching the pigeons milling about his feet searching for any hint of a treat. The day was gray, cold, too quiet. Bursting into song for the bird congregation an aria from La Boheme, powerful, lyrical gesturing to his imaginary lover tears rolling down his cheeks. A young woman hurried past looking through him, not seeing. He cried after her, "Come back, my love. My monkey died today."  
 

*BEEP*

“Hey, Tony, honey, non-actions speak louder than words

you haven't called me in a week

Did you lose my number?

I always told you to look on the men's room wall

-- for a good time -- yeah, that's me.

that always got a laugh before, remember?

(nervous laughter then a pause)

Was it that look of disappointment on my face

when you forgot my birthday?

Hey, man, I know we ain't serious

you got no worries there

It's just that ......

Oh, never mind.....

Anyway, I'm here all night

.....  if you get the urge, you know ....

you know where to find me.”

*CLICK*
 

 

Hopeless

Gray goo still oozed from the wound.

Even your sweet kisses could not stop the pain.

It hailed, it stormed, no sign of the sun

my legs were going numb.

Sometimes I can't even remember your face

your smile so brilliant so welcoming

like hot steaming tea on a blustery day.

Starting to slip into unconsciousness

out the window, through the door

behind the dark curtain

where no safe soul can follow

disappearing into the bleak barren landscape.

My arms desperately stretch search toward the safety

of your soft cheek, your warm whisper

but you are gone, tired of sickness, weary of woe

preferring the soft light on the horizon to the blackness that is me. 
 

The Last Straw

I was at the bar last night

that same freak was there

watching me

with those murky piercing eyes

casing my every move

his greasy unkempt hair

sticking out all over his head

a cigarette dangling from his mouth

wrinkled jacket stained in the front

drinking beer - a damn foam mustache

Shit, it gave me the creeps.

“Hey, Joe, who is that freakin' guy?

He won't stop starin' at me”.

 

Joe, the bartender, was everywhere at once

slicked back black hair - pierced ear

dark skin - built - easy on the eyes

serve me up another Canadian Club on ice

maybe a little solicited advice.

“Ah, he's harmless - a walkin' wasted man

here every night ……

just ignore him ....... "

I'm not good at takin' advice

“Hey, buster, what's yer problem?

Look somewhere else for a change, will ya?”

The freak didn't say a word - mute f--ker!

Finally I heard him mumble something

“Speak up, mister, can't hear ya!”

“Your eyes - how they sparkle

Your smile - puts the sun to shame

Your hair - soft and silky frames your face

I couldn't help but notice”.

 

Joe started to laugh like a hyena.

That was the last straw

I threw a twenty down the bar and left

What a sick f--kin' world, man! 
 

The Fight

She:        You bleepin' bleep!

He:         That's not what you called me last weekend when I bleeped you

She:        Yeah, that was before you bleeped my aunt

He:         Well, she's a whole heluva lot nicer than you, bleep!

She:        Why, you bleep of a bleep! I'll kick your sorry bleep!! 

With that, she curled her hand into a fist and punched him

in the face

She stepped backwards from the force and shock of it

Then he hauled off and punched her back - hard

so hard she fell down - the wind knocked out of her

As she lay stunned on the floor

he stood straddling her body with his legs

 put one foot on her chest

a menacing grin on his face

He:         Got anything else to say, bleep?

 

She squeezed her eyes shut to blink back the tears and quietly answered: 

She:        You win...............................bleep!. 
 

Fireworks

Night slammed down its curtain with a thud;

raucous not subtle delivery.

Slaving for the slithering in the dark

despite warnings of progressive disincentives

swerving sideways almost going jugular

sensing widespread alienation

upon the frigid moody landscape.

An awakening like none other

inspired by the moon and the stars

adrift on a glacier of hidden desires.

Easing into the fire of flagrant disregard

for particulars and postponements

the cinders seared my burning orbs

with vibrant visions of smoldering sensation.

Brilliant twinkles

sparkling explosions

fireworks. 

 

Jealousy

Don't be a Doubting Thomas!

You are the butter on my toast.

Just because I notice a Tom, Dick or Harry

doesn't mean it's not you that floats my boat.

No need for jealousy

or a prohibition policy

specifically and generally

not to be confused with occasionally.

You are the pinnacle

THE HE - to me - all others are merely overaged brie
the hero.... the winner .... the star

Just get in the damn car
I'm not goin' far

Tonight….. maybe just to that new bar?
 

Her Way

into mirrors, puddles, windows her gaze

not really noticing the displays

but hoping for praise

narcissistic phase

self-centered haze

primping to amaze
 

predictably the action plays

her motive betrays

toward a myriad of forays

like emitting sting rays

he mesmerized stays

in a trancelike daze

magnetized by her electric ways