This poem stinks.
It doesn't rhyme
It doesn't do anything
It has a little alliteration
it will have some
because that's the easiest poetic element to incorporate
and if it didn't have any poetic elements
it would not be a poem
but would be prose with
(are carriage returns extinct?)
and that would be dishonest.
This is not a lying poem.
That would be oxymoronic.
It's a stinky poem.
And when I finish writing it
I'm gonna print it out
and tear it up
into little bitty
teensy weensy pieces
(if I have enough patience to get that small)
and flush it down the commode
so it can join all the other
excrementally effluential essences
(note the alliteration)
of all the other stuff that stinks
almost as badly as
Is different from experience
It's different from intelligence
comes with experience
is enhanced by intelligence
Lavish locks sprawl pillowed in peace this morn.
Gently whiskered cheeks hint of last night's lipstick
Tensions banished blue grassy fiddling lingers
Let's take it easy
I'll make the omelets
while you get a shower, dear.
Oh? You'd rather play some more?
Alright, eats postponed.
Pounding rhythms drumming heartbeats
In stillness your breath meanders its way
through the vast concert hall of my naked
vulnerability cooing minor
keyed assurances of something finer.
Rifts while integral to the theme render
our phrasing discordant at times yet
your hard earned skill in handling your fender
is spawning a wisdom I don't quite get
but it soothes and smooths, warms and relaxes
us both and though still stressed out by taxes
and injustice, fear and idiocy
frustrations from others unable to see
we remember our gift of harmony
and sing our twin souls free of enmity.
The three forms used to construct this poem are Sapphic Stanza, Sedoka, and Sonnet.
Five after four in the morning. Night-sweats
rumple silk bed sheets. Vague cusp ‘tween night and day
blurs chiseled contours of sanity’s sharpness.
Dreams half-way loosed into consciousness waylay
snuggling comforts. Wee hours’ vague demons lurk
tucked beneath pillowcased hopes, threatening melee.
Coffee at four twenty, brewed under knee-jerk
rituals uncritically gleaned in tender years,
won’t clear the spider webs. Thinking is hard work.
Terrible, really, yet recently shed tears
obscure simple joy’s sole right to imminence,
caking like blood drawn by yesterday’s spears.
‘Til mercy’s sunbeams despite grief’s vehemence
melt bitter frostbite of long lost innocence.
Mischievous flint spark
razes lethargy’s prison
igniting joy’s fuse.
Rich roaring campfire
radiant warmth draws attention
spawn dazzling wisdom flashes
White gleaming marble
proud solid stability
Lavish lilac shrub
broadcasting sensual delight
limbs' crimson remnants swept clean
prepared for new growth.
Sleeping lover’s breath
passion’s rhythm synchronized
Fresh pine-mountain air
clears celestial vision
swirling dance unencumbered
transports wisdom’s seeds
Soft persistent rain
quenches fragile seedling’s thirst
Ancient cavern pool
envelops secret demons
guards Pandora’s box
Still midnight lagoon
shimmers cosmic buoyancy
atop deep pure peace.
Leaping in barefoot abandon
Soaring every which way from Sunday
Laughter effortlessly exhaling cool breezes.
Lounging on nature’s lush carpet
Silhouette illumined by carefree serenity
Lapping up rays and shining them back
Licorice sticks and crackers and brie
Sweet plumpness of kiwi and mango and peach
Licking ripe juices off contented grin
Long luscious showers in waterfall glory
Swirling delightfully playfully pure
Lingering loving caresses of freshness
Last blush of daylight’s electrical charge
Sunset yields gracefully generously kind
Lights flicker syntax where space enfolds meaning
Lay here beside me
Savor my dream
Let my enchantment touch yours
Morning coffee, read the paper, brush your teeth and make the bed
Start the car up, drive to work with endless chatter in your head.
Rhythm’s just a decoy, really, structure faked for social poise
Must pretend, must feign an interest. Wouldn’t want to lose the toys.
Just ignore the yearning, silly, only fools have dreams these days.
Shoulder to the grindstone, Buster, don’t you know what really pays?
Over obligate yourself then hurry to the next event.
Don’t take time for introspection, musings never paid the rent.
Reinforcing concrete walls with rebar to protect from storms.
Cyclones of emotion dashed to bits before reaction forms.
Hold her steady, make the grade, ignore distractions, toe the line
Numbness is a good sign, keep it up and soon you’ll be just fine.
Can’t afford admission to tonight’s seductive shadow play.
Vulnerability and nakedness too high a price to pay.
Courage is for sissies, only children should be reckoned tears.
Safest bet’s to keep pretending that you’ve conquered all your fears.
On the edge
Slightly out of vision
No, thank you
I’ll take my social order
Hold the onions
Hey, I wanted rye
Every day reminds us
Untidy chaos intervenes
Deny it and go mad
Face it and imagine war
To be involved in life is to be involved in battle
There is no escape
Cave dwelling aesthetics are fools
Thus sings the auspicious one
Learn to struggle
It’s not about the win
Which, in any event, is
Cattiness, it doesn't work
nor do cherry cheese cake or
romantic northern lights,
anniversaries and the like.
Make it better for me baby
Lioness has surface value
silky sultry claws of steel
sharp and growlingly
over a tasty meal.
Baby make me it for better
Cougars come and cougars go
with rippling roaring shoulders
they just don't care
life's a stage, let's get it over.
Better baby for make it me
Jaguar speed and sharpness
wind in the hair
speed demons, debonair
the antonym of cocky.
Me better it baby make for
Roxanne, my pet
you've never yet
tinged with helplessness.
It for baby me better make
Cattiness, baby, get over it
You've so much to make. What you fretting for?
You call yourself me... can't do better?
Am not quite sure where to,
but Thank you.
Occupy everywhere :)