Have you ever pretended a guy was interesting?
Have you slow danced and let him sniff you up close?
I gives you somewhere to go, if you decide to.
Or given a little kiss—nothing slutty in that.
You know, a 'person' isn’t a good kisser - it takes two.
I’m not talking about me, of course.
There’s a two-way interrogation going on
complete with our own internal narratives
—we reenact it’s rituals in the strangest places
like quiet libraries or the lerch and spin of a dance club
we process by analogy and approximation and it works
until it doesn’t, like cold water poured into a glass.
Then we settle back into the dull rhythms of study
I’m not talking about me, of course.
.
.
Songs for this:
Loveland by The Blenders
Human Nature by Mitchell Brunings
(inspired by ‘Dusty Rose Dreaming’ by poet vb)
We’re powdered city girls heading into a club,
bright orchids entering the hothouse
spreading fun with noblesse oblige,
qua somethings suited for silver screens.
Our attention’s as uncertain as the stock market.
Experts at mixing trickery and disguise,
we’re but vague summations of nature,
as we sparkling preen, like excited atoms.
Rouged and kohled to unnatural colors,
dressed in silk-whispers to tease and entice,
in neon-light, broken by par-cans, scanners
and champagne flutes, we’re superhero-like immune
to societal judgment and aghast rebuke.
In our few, fleeting nights of youth
let our voices chorus in laughter
What’s it to you? Tell the truth.
.
.
Songs for this piece:
Baby You’re a Superstar by NuDisco
Love Land by the Blenders
Nostalgie Du Voyage by Nightflight
red meat that is so sweet
and yellow that's quite mellow
but before you imbibe, make sure black seeds are inside
from verdant fields to homely tables
to big juicers and smooth blenders
waste not, want not
how about a nice jolt of citrulline?
a flow of rind divine to the bloodstream
a marvelous gift to man
pulling the pressure down and pushing the energy up
three or four generous pieces down the chute
now it's time to drink up
Every evening, I could witness, in my childhood,
Beggars, going from home to home, for daily food;
Fear filtered into my heart, as though from fountains,
I could see, within me, many terror mountains...!
Visits of soothsayers, snake charmers, and vendors,
Magic, jugglery, witchcraft, and comic blenders;
Each one was considered a guest and was well-homed,
Each, as though members, wherever they wanted, roamed...!
Foreign visitors, often those with skins milk-white,
Made my heart pump very fast, increasing my fright;
Men sent on the query of a vivacious kind,
Set blaze, like volcanoes, firing fears in my mind...!
All these, yet, I feel now, had shot up like mushrooms,
Age and experience swept these away like brooms;
Xenophobia is a phase of growth, I learn,
Some humans, yet, in this urn, eternally burn...!!!
28 April 2023
Rhymes Checked At: Rhyme Zone
Syllables Checked At: How Many Syllables
For women men drop big cash
To have them toothy smiles flash:
If one needs windows, gets Sash:
Blenders to tomatoes mash,
Women quite free to sound brash!
For handsome men – No! A Trash!
Even Eves the idea thrash,
For being infinitely rash,
Save one did cash in banks stash…
Macho Men can’t their teeth gnash
Nor round with displeasure dash:
Whether Norman, Noah or Nash
They’d be unleashing tongue lash,
On their names leaving a gash…
No luck with views A Mishmash.
They lied when they said
that in the apartments it would be different,
we would live well with sandwiches and cell phones.
All TVs vomiting colours
and the problems the manager would solve.
When that guy killed himself in the H tower
there was silence for two days.
But soon the children made noise,
the blenders went crazy and the sirens screamed
showed new signs of our life in the concrete.
Here in the apartments we are dying by the dozen,
we die by the hundreds, we kill each other
sometimes with lances, sometimes with glances.
We wait for fridays.
We want to put our toy cars
on their roads.
We want to see the cows and the sun before we go back.
But we have no hate.
In fact, we can't even hate anymore,
Cause the televisions elect a new enemy every day.
Pointedly poignant points portend pointillism.
Pontiffs pontificate pointless pointers ponderously.
Pompous poems populate Pompei pottery potently.
Porous *********** portrays Portuguese porta potties.
Poppies pop Popeye’s popular popcorn.
Populist populism pots ponies properly.
Blithering blather blots bloody bleeping blips.
Bloomberg blogs bleach bleating bloated blinks.
Bluebloods bloom black blackberry bloopers.
Bluetooth blizzards blame blurry blackboards.
Blithe blighted bladders blatantly block blades.
Blazing blasts bleed blooming blenders.
Fumbling fumes funerals fast.
Feuding fluid furniture flutters flaps.
Fighting flatulent flamingos flounder.
Floating flotillas flee flying flops.
Families foment future futile forms.
Freaky frozen French fries frighten frogs.
So much more I could say
about everything from those days,
the times at the shops hardly touched
with hands out, but laughing
for cash for the drugs.
Or snowball fights with the men in blue
who wore black, but anyhoo.
The long weekends in Maryhill nick
cos Baird Street was full (hmm that don’t stick).
The bundles of tems hid behind the wall
When cash in my hand I sold them all.
Running about with bags of v
knowing in plain sight, the Police couldn’t see
Break ins and break outs,
Shops, cars and vans;
it was the life we lived
we all thought “I’m the man”.
So maybe another book,
might even be two
will open the door to
what I went through.
I haven’t scratched the
surface of life
with Jesus in view,
three daughters, and
a wife.
This gift of life so new
of moving on through
life in St Mark’s
Blenders and Jobcare
and Ballykeel Two.
©Stuart Patterson 2019
clove cinnamon for simon&dunkin tuna for garfunkel.
wobbly looped spindles, hums tunes "holy mackerel".
silent whispers alluring hoarding ajar.
more candid topics, endorsed by chet choppock.
overtime blenders whip hot fudge tapioca.
from the larva, emerges paul harvey.
orator greetings predestines"good day, utopia.
good healing from dr. oz & charles ozgood,
understood.
bytes penetrating sequin hoods of vast neighborhoods.
well steaked positions, instills glorified bastions.
no wasteful questions, bout times were in.
unconsumed media leaves abundance to chance (t)hen.
signs of our times, perhaps, we should thank (T)hen.
Red, Blue, And Yellow
Palette of pigments
Oil blenders evolvements
To manipulate, soften,
Conformation, on a canvas I have fashion
With brushes, a medium I can discipline
An attitude I can get lost in
A dream land of fairyland or reality of my choosing
Is drawing my heart strings
By: Eve Roper 1/20/2015
cars, knives, building, planes, boats, pens, computers, soda pop, lighters, money,
jewelery, tvs, tool, stoves, fridges, blenders, forks, spoons, guns, heater, ac, belts,
fans, canned food, batterys, toasters, washers, dryers........
what do all these things have in common. it's truly unnatural.