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| 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
the hero.... the winner .... the star
Just get in the damn car
I'm not goin' far
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
