glisando - today's poem (and my very slight homage to Peter Frampton)

glissando

 

again Pete plays an inescapable tune

and I begin to see time as an ocean

great green and surging with foam

 

now I know that a world conquered

inevitably lost again washes away

what Django hath wrought

Everything Must Be Paranoia and Destruction - today's poem

Everything Must Be Paranoia and Destruction

 

Someway I avoid reincarceration

place one shoe aloft then another

keep down my head avert my eyes

traverse shadows and streetlights

dodge officials on sidewalks

as their mountain aeries go volcanic

 

I’m not paranoid.  They’re out to get me!

They see me as cattle; a cash cow, in fact

expendable – my death none of their concern

Vistas before me are clear and bright

until it cuts into their heathenish profit

then their pretty blimp goes down in flames

 

Political prison dreams started at age 19

I languished in jail cells slowly flooding

as laughing hyenas poked me with clubs

in the brilliant sunlight of mid-day

of my endless sentence in a cold stone jail

while their ocean liner shipwrecked and sank

 

Where do I get the idea that I am at liberty

peeping through my cell bars into the gloom

The jailhouse rocks as though in an earth quake

as hyperborean sun glows here at midnight

and clouds roll ominous stormy and black

until all their high rises crumble and crash

 

As foot-thick walls come falling in on me

I feel like a true cyborg Butch Cavendish

but bad guys who thought I was a friend

trust me to back them in every fight

while I stage a break from Minooka State

while bosses’ silver rockets burst aflame

Meanwhile - today's poem

Meanwhile

 

in the Garden of Eden coloring book

with pencils and pastels I listen intently

to Gris-Gris Dr John’s first album

before a woozy late night poetry zoom

 

van Gogh is perched on my shoulder

while I reconsider life’s expanses

and inspect a lifetime of inner travel

silliness, drama, circumspection, noise

 

Staring eyes of pale sanitarium blue

calm and placid like a mild summer day

Vincent mumbles as elsewhere tides roll in  

whispers Don’t take any wooden nickels

 

Blackened beneath buckled maroon skies

small boats and battered dinghies struggle

as gray-blue hulls chop into a fog green sea

in a rainless yet stormy and violent scene

 

Remember the horseback leather clad police

in Planet of the Apes and toss a tie-dye frisbee

wondering could they hit it with their rifles

in the verdant forest encircling the garden

 

What now, Vincent?

today's poem - the furrow

the furrow

 

to a chorus 9f werewolf song

yoke your ox

under a shattered sky of dreaming stars

at midnight in the holy see

plow past reckoning and pilgrims

over forgotten fields trailing cloudlike

beyond moonlit boondocks

slow and lonely

in time’s snowy avalanche

join the procession

Today's poem - "O Fire Engine"

O Fire Engine

sing your siren circles

shine, scarlet streak

save someone’s child

quench the fire tonight

ladder-men leaning high

we believe in you

your storm rolling

into the arms of danger

is the nexus of fear

and love

as flames leap high

Red - today's poem

Red

I read a true account of subconscious lycanthropy

authored by a famous ex werewolf

somewhere in the future

who was cured by an android Druid (an Andruid)

 

The therapy required moonbeams, oak burrs, mistletoe, wolfbane, chants,

squirrel sacrifice, ventilators, and hyper-vectored digital graphics

-or some such thing

cleverly combining shtick and religion

 

No longer a werewolf I could enjoy non-homicidal pursuits like skiing

wrote the former wolf-man (a college drop-out and dog trainer)

matter-of-factly

furthermore, I could listen to Pink Floyd without reverting to bestiality

 

Uncle Red said That’s some dingleberry boo-shit, boy!

But I established it to be veritably verifiable

by conducting my own research (and such-like)

on the internet

 

but Red held that the Andruid would not be involved

and would instead lead world armies in vicious wars

and conduct pagan blood rituals beneath ruby beacons

in hyperpolysyllabicisquepedalianistic fashion

 

Well, fair enough

 

 

Microsuburbanism - today's poem

Microsuburbanism

 

Teeny bikini girls serve nano doctors booze

Bookkeepers crunch environmental impact numbers

Rubes gape at green stamp-size squares

 

Each microverse Golf Hamlet saves a million lives pronounces the billionaire philanthropist video

This is Country Club Living at its smallest!

 

Beautiful tree lined lots with golf course views        

are conveniently located in a City of Patriotism -

scientific capitalism fully realized and shrunken

 

Our park is a peaceful, rustic, and safe community

offering invisible golf course living

at a price point you can’t afford not to pay

 

Maximization via minimization diminishes souls

to create a reliquary milquetoasted to infinity

in green golf-tog amber lifelike dioramas

 

Although frolicsome sub-microscopic chipmunks

who chat in near-imperceptible hedges

relish their Lilliputian Rodentia

                           the future has collapsed

 

Today's other poem is Category: Ballad

Category: Ballad

 

With flaming pumpkin moons risen

could we ever have dreamed  

inimitable is in I’m a table and visa versa

like an unknown Jeopardy category?

 

That’s enough smart aleck talk

for one not stuck in a ballad

and round we go the Ferris wheel spins

inspecting our hands before our eyes

 

A black cat in full screech pose’s  

latent beingness boilerplate

can’t tell us why we cringe  

like absent-of-thought wet hens

 

We felt our fall subside

at all angles

and against all our lost battles

time was the free train engineer

 

Tomorrow's Poem is Transistor Radio

Transistor Radio

smaller and smaller

Independent and Governmental

tinnier and clearer

propaganda and truth

earphone and speaker

plastic and metal

9 volt and regular

lights and displays

holes and grids

Morning and Night

adult and teen

Military and Civilian

louder and louder

DJ and announcer

wires and transistors

pocket and hand

Country and Western

art and commerce

Pirate and Legal

Local and National

soldered and stamped

business and leisure

beauty and truth

live and recorded

classical and easy listening

jazz and pop

high and low watt

R and B  

Westinghouse and NBC

Philosophy and stocks

ads and content

Public and Private

in-between and surrounding

constant noise and perpetual silence

dials and levers

left and right

sun spots and signals

singers and songs

city and suburban

Japanese and American

reception and static

News and Weather

After School and After Dark

Today's Poem is "Bright Yellow"

Bright Yellow

 

reflective as the sun

when You wear bright yellow

I get all Coltrane

I bake a starfield confettied cake

on my trip to Saturn (object in the sky)

whose workings

giant visual diamond atom

brings a mind hope

and Saturn is nothing like the sun

moon stars and cosmic winds

blowing mustard seeds invisibly

 

in the melodical universe

are really woven delivered

sea stripes sky paisleys lemon plaids

that aren’t paths beyond

expanding like baked goods

meteoric cometic star-fueled

macaroni mind map of Mississippi

goldfinch sunflower perch

supersonic and upper register ultra

spheric dimensioning stellar engine

 

broadcast like fine sifted flour

constantly wildly radiant

lying beyond your smile in solar winds

as oblate spheroid as a baseball

to nominate a baking station alone

til crash bam boom rings my sunshine heart

3 hours or 3o minutes or 300 light years

flares and plumes blooms and sparks

endure sharply against night

today's poem is French Woman Convention 1940

French Woman Convention

1940

 

At the drugstore counter

I give my thuringer

and home fries

to a hungry cowhand

who needs a shave

 

A clutch of French women

smartly-tailored in suits

arrive tall and haughty

to meet and study

in parks and hotels

 

My hungry friend and I

get stiff suits and shave

and we grab up deals

for accommodating

these stately violets

 

Money cascades and we grab

the State Park lodge

to start booking

rooms and events

for French groups - bonanzas

 

In splendid new duds

we introduce

frozen French Fries

to the hungry millions

and cash in

 

Vive la France! 

Duke of Dismal - today's poem

Duke of Dismal

His garage psychedelic hard rock

disco synth  polka punk house

alt country soul techno psychobilly

emo band was passively disgruntled

with a Status Quo that remained

constant through its iterations

 

The name stayed Dukes of Dismal

an accurate appellation of mental state

through 18 singers, 23 bassists,

87 guitarists, 59 keyboardists,

15 drummers and 44 horn players

of various stripes and attainments

 

A band grows a mania for guitars

amps and gear such collection that

strobe over the past and locales

to fill a floor of his ramshackle home

/ rehearsal space through

variably attuned or doubting friends

enemies 15 partners and wives

in better nights and worse

eking out inner museums of collision 

Black Sheep

Black Sheep

 

Baa-baa lingering Black Sheep Betty

whose snares and whiskers; snakes and whispers

angle downward to the rocks below

she scamps sheer stone sure-hooved

 

Positron pilgrims position stings and rebukes

geese and goslings steal magic moments

Shack Bleep Larry wah-wahs the Larry-go-round

Doodledy doodling in his system of spinning

 

Blast Shriek canary Carrie’s asteroid hop

Saturday Sunday Monday holiday parades about

she flounces naturally around unannounced

broadcasting an unsentimental diamond gaze

 

Dismount mount discount Black Shoe Sherry

shoe shop first month Jesus in a Slack Beep hurry

a poohbah doo-wha you don’t know

feels along the floor for one second more

 

Slow Blues Beast Barry whose anti-matter bop

Turns a bright bridal path to bridle path

for Blue Marlene who hops a mop

horses into steek wing dust disappearing

 

metal emblems tarnish tragical in snow

to stub out so no one knows those who now know how

 

 

Myth and Mystery - Today's Poem

Myth and Mystery

 

As day deteriorates smokelike in anesthetic mist

a smattering of Greta Garbo in the echo bog

won’t alarm the browsing cattle

 

Her lithe molecules of ennui spread illiberally

don’t put them off their feed

silver light on reflective surface air

 

She wants to be alone; the bovine tend to herd

air aims to circulate; light to penetrate

beams of chilled circumstance through trees

 

the Northern Lights have been set free above

and Druids amble, phantom beyond the pale

in whose swamp cattle and actress linger

 

if I could run a periscope up above the darkness

what impossibly reactive colors and voids

would circle and streak above the imaginary?

today's poem - "pterodactyl sunset'

pterodactyl sunset

 

along sunset arcs shadowless in falling sun

raptors strafe and stratify serial skies and level shores

death winging for blinded clawfeet and pincers

upflipped fish and incidental carrion                      

 

down orange

                         tangerine

                                            bronze

swollen layered sky sheets deathsmells

seep leather-winged

 

as scavengers swoop and plunge

striking sharply

colored feathers with yellow claws

dark shine the predator eyes

                                 alarming shrieks

reverberate flowers of sensation

crustaceans scramble scurry and claw sand

sizzling swamp air whirlingly subsides

slowly cools into trembling night

 

opportunistic natural elements modify dying

cycles of weather erosion; explosions

brief extra-solar events and geology conspire

in haplessly struggling success and failure

rising and falling divergent fatal terra life

for sunset marauders to survey

 

 

ode - today's poem

ode

eighty-nine cent wind-up penguin

whir and walk, plastic birdlike gaze

years of tyrants' abuse

head jaunty eyes paint-thing

transcending singular design

sufferable from suffering

freedom unto bondage

artifact of nothing that was

 

Sept 1 Poem - Recycling Relics

Recycling Relics

Her hoard of hymnals

is so destinationless

I can only see pulp

backward forward - poem for 8/31

 

backward forward

my ziggurat ing self is walk ing

backward to the hemp arts school  

my hand back up befronts my face

reflecting a watch mirror’s face

image to see where I am going

or is it to see where I went?

Evening Window - today's poem

Evening Window

Up from the ground

as an orchestra hums La Mer

a spice aroma scent, up and up is sent

lanterns ascend, their glow lost

in stars

like glowing wheels over a blue sea

A long marsh with forest beyond

circled by night sky

is foot-lighted but growing dim

to distant hills shadows resolving

in darkness, losing their form

Sleep is descending, casting its veil

the breeze upon the night scene

sheer as silken mist

waving

this one here - today's poem

this one here

feels trapped -

searches beyond each horizon with

EYES of swimming suit blue

contrasts a green business suit to

HAIR of bullet-casing bronze

to seek royal typewriter blue with

NAILS of striped bandana red and white

 

but if consciousness is a spiral

but if audacity is a plus-plus

but if work-life takes a stitch

 

seeming to be lost

EYES un-focus a cumulus MIND  

as Booby traps capture silence

HANDS shield soundless EARS

as Booby hatches enclose innocence

MOUTH a void open-oval landscape

as Booby nests fill with hatchlings

and above, birds riot in insect-spinning air

 

then all is naught all is fraught

then the freight is staged

then lost are found, found lost

 

 

 

Boat - today's poem

Boat

 

Let the boat drift into a quiet cove

Behold a bush of stars radiantly shining

 

agape as a talking deer nears

telling woodland secrets

 

Julius Caesar in robes and laurel wreath

wanders Druidic woods slightly obscured

 

the Emperor, his time interrupted

seems to say, this is all your fault

 

just as a cork bobs on an undulating lake

drifts slowly away from its silent cove

 

untying water and sky from time and land