Discouraged

Don’t be discouraged by words you hear.

The clicking track goes to my ears,

My hands still flag and fail to keep the beat.

I find that after all these years

I have not made a single song complete.

Here’s things that don’t make sense

To many people: Crescendo to the end,

Diminuendo first. Semiquavers then

A couple of crotchets. Pull off then bend.

Don’t be discouraged by words you hear.

June 30

Smithereens

Just as Caesar fills a bunghole,

Shakespeare’s clay’s (like his plays) inside of us today.

Our not too solid flesh stays fresh for only so long

Looking for the tiny pieces of others in us:

Smith-ereens and Wilde-beans in me.

I could sublet my house and subdivide myself

to search smaller and smaller worlds.

There, pluck the electromagnetic spectrum

with my spectrographic plectrum –

sound, wave to magnetism,

o o o ripe ripples ripping once again in rings (sings).

This is the sound of singing: o o o

June 29

To The City

My love by bus why train

try car no parking no place

All roads lead in to

Underneath the common ground

Nineteen dollars.

A flat fee for a round trip

Through bridges and under the road

No roads lead out

Common round and under

June 28

Be More Responsible

(What? was the expiration? date)

Taint misbehavin’. Misdemeanor. Seen some things.

Not a plant, not an animal – something else.

Fungus spreading. When one gets it, they all do.

Softsmell burning, sickly sweet.

Sweet, sweet, sweet. Sweet in your mind.

Sweet in your mind but repulsive in your mouth.

June 23

Cool Down

When she takes a shower –

Shampoos, scented soaps, hair conditioners

Can’t cool her down soon enough.

Dare I disturb her there, bare and in that secret place?

Nay! Not I!

Not when I am the one that made her mad

Not even when it’s no fault of my own.

Later,

Bathroom baptism over

Water swelled and drained away.

June 24

Wanderlust

This poem is about wanderlust.

I could write this poem about Odysseus,

and it would seem to be an obvious choice.

He wandered the sea, and upon returning home

decided to leave again as soon as possible.

But I’m more interested in the “lust” part.

Wanton teenagers sidewalking the streets

throwing their rocks at girls’ windows

humidity still in the air as the lights turn on

ghastly orange and sweating

Sadie turning prigs and pigs to men

Sweeter Jane enchants and Sweetest Jane sings songs.

There’s still the girl that they return to at home.

Maybe it’s got a lot to do with Odysseus after all.

June 27

Waiting for, Frustration

I’m waiting for frustration here –

Each day I want to do, to feel, and more,

but even when I’m working and appear

to reach a satisfaction with and for

my life – there’s something missing when

I’m home or even when I’m out with those

I thought would be the best – but then,

of course, the moments that we love the best

are those inside

            our memories

June 26

Depth

The sea is deep and so am I.

Tiny robots dig the depths and I watch them

From the comfort of the television couch.

June 25

Hamlet For Breakfast

It’s breakfast. This Danish tastes odd – tastes old? Mom says

I’m crazy. Just eat and get washed up. She says Stop playing around.

I stab my fork into these eggs. Stop praying around.

She’s tried to get me out of here before. Chicken! Drown her out

Chicken and eggs, mother and son reunion. It’s time to go.

June 22

Spambot

It’s like those horror movies where the family is transformed:

So innocent looking. Same face, but inside

it’s all different!

Opening up the email, it’s a spambot

that’s taken control and probably has already infected me

takes fer earaskr

June 21

Honestly, It Was Getting Old

Honestly,

                I never much enjoyed reading back

The poems I wrote, darkened and black,

Week in and out for that poetry class.

Have I abandoned meter now? Alas!

I do not know.

Don’t tell me which way this ship will blow.

This tired metaphor’s about to set sail,

But I have brought a glass and pail.

The pail’s to bail myself when I begin to sink,

The glass is for when I begin to think.

June 18

Half As Many Twenty-Four Rhymes

Twenty-four times : half as many rhymes.
Learning the Latin to say : puella pulchra est today.
Or French tous les doigts : all my ten fingers, or so I thought.
Held them, hold: getting too cold.
This line is misplaced and : was done intentionally, understand.
Still too warm : for the words to correctly set and form.
Please rearrange these : couplets how you like, to see.
Some new unconventional story : of love written most confusingly.
Don't let the colons throw you : off or skew.
Nine, ten, counting lines to fill the sonnet : how many more to get?
Don't bother writing your story : to another's rules, get free.
Show some compassion, ἀδελφός : give it another go.

June 20

Recomfit Comfort

What is comfortable? Rolly, round.
We're not meant to sit: stand,
Lie-down, or squat.
Squatters in my sisters' apartment
Just won't leave. But comfort leaves:
Stress? This is comfort.
Er, I meant to say: What is comfort? This is stressful.
It's not that I don't know what to do here.
But comfort leaves us again and again.
We work towards it, squat in it.
Are too afraid to give it up and leave it alone.

June 19

Bird-Brain

tiny little thoughts, tiny little heart beating

through tiny little veins, tiny little arteries leading

(their lives are fleeting)

to tiny little bird-body bleeding

June 17

Glamor

Glamour is a woman when I write her

Why not a man?

She was glamour,

sin personified.

I parsed her as a paramour,

her pursing lips, most dignified.

She was lipstick tube, boobs,

hips thick, loose shoes.

Half off high heels! What a steal!

She was glimmer of glamour in my mother’s eyes

Sisters all were reconciled,

Brothers agreed she had great thighs.

Let’s all keep our heads, why don’t we?

June 16

Curses

Gamblers ramble on about the day they’ll strike rich

drink their dream from the bottom of the ditch

but when it’s time to roll, roles reverse

toast the chances that coast on the dance of their curses.

June 19 

A Day Off

A day off

the beaten path,
the rocks,
the bandwagon.
Wiedersehen!

A day off

from work,
Broadway.
The payroll.

A day off

from school,
for good behavior.
My meds
track
the rails,
the coast,
on the wrong foot.

A day off

her rocker:
my back.
Her high horse:
my conscience.

June 14

Businessman

Something stinks:

The awful offal of daily productivity.

Can’t a businessman leave the land better than

when he began his damn activities?

It goes like this: Tie over shoulders as you piss

Shirts tucked between rib and elbow

when you start to go.

June 13

My Nose Presses On The Glass

I never want to see outside my window

Superimposed over the outside world

A reflective face (my own)

This view should be objective.

At night I shouldn’t have to turn the light

To see more than a few feet away

Into the darkness of the corners and in the fringes

Because when I draw too close I see nothing

But myself and I see too much of that

The rest of the day.

June 12

Drudgery!

When I begin to roll my verse

out with iambic arms and feet

you may feel that it crawls much worse

than modern stuff, though I still think it’s neat

to have a steady way to move

(one step, next step, next step, one at a time).

I will admit I let the groove

and it’s compatriot, the rhyme,

control the ways these poems go.

At least this drudgery’s more fun

to follow in its throbbing throes

than some dis-join-tedly-re-run

complaint about the current state

of my poor mind’s puerile debate.

 June 11