The joy of fervent freedom suffuses my sky,
enraptured heart’s allured songbird soars high,
glides in the spring-rippled amorous air,
carries your fleeting jasmine flair.
No one sings the song of lonesome yearning,
for the thunder storm of strife surges in
from the illusive horizon receding to obscurity,
the wrench of desertion crushes my ecstasy.
The crippled bird folds the wings curled,
like the withered flower painfully unfurled.
Mangled mind endures the pangs of isolation
in the ruined nest made of twigs of emotion.
The wilted petals dislodge from the floral fold
as the snow storm blows winds of desertion cold.
The devout flower finds the dreams in debris,
in the rustle of leaves its sigh subsides weary.
Radiance of the spent sun sets with a lonely creep,
an impaled bird loses its course in blue deep
of the far away sky not yet flown.
The pain of broken heart feels like black cat moan.
(Inspired by Glenn Hudges' song Black Cat Moan)
Swept the living room tonight
dog hair central, quite a blight
broke vacuum cleaner with their hair
while they reposed in the night air
If this was yarn, we would make a coat
perhaps a long sweater or a giant tote
if this was wood, we would build a garage
this hair from the vacuum cleaner will not dislodge
The only movie on this flight that's shown
is an episode of The Twilight Zone.
That's what my flight attendant said,
staring strangely at my head.
My brain thread's still mostly on the spool,
so why look at me like I'm a fool.
My eagle eye saw the wind dislodge
a key piece of the fuselage.
That's the lynch pin, says I.
Without it, we can no longer fly.
The cabin's leaking oxygen and air.
Clueless passengers sit and stare
as I see my hand become a claw
to stop the destruction I foresaw.
The flight attendant meant to do me harm.
She stuck a needle in my arm.
I was on that accursed flight, inbound.
Now, I'm sleeping safe and sound.
Start with the fracture -
the splintered thing lodged in your ribs
that no cough can dislodge.
Call it "inspiration" if you must,
but know it is just hunger
with a prettier name.
Next, the bones:
a rhythm tapped absentmindedly
on a diner table,
the half-heard melody
of a stranger’s laugh,
the way your childhood home
still hums in your teeth
when you say its name.
Now, the bloodwork -
verbs writhing like minnows in your palms,
adjectives that stick like burrs to your sleeves.
(Here is where you’ll bleed.
A poem is not a wound,
but the salt rubbed into one.)
Arrange the fragments on the page.
Watch them refuse to fit.
This is the part where you learn:
a poem is not a puzzle,
but the hand that shakes
as it forces the pieces together.
Finally, the lie -
the smoothing, the sanding,
the pretense that this
was always the shape
you intended.
Sign your name at the bottom.
Walk away before it cracks.
There once was a man named Roger
Who had an enormous todger
A woman stuck in fudge
Just wouldn’t budge
So Roger used his todger to dislodge her.
Red field of war
Blood soaking the earth...
Silent screams take root...
Stained shields in the air
Stained wind, red war
Gray grounds
Pour out the cruelty of steel
Dislodge subtleties
Stir up storms...
Don’t anchor me here too close to shore.
I need to explore; though I’m still young,
life is a vast, boundless ocean in front of me -
perhaps precarious -
but filled with so much of the unknown
it beckons me with its fathomless allure.
Oh, how I long to plumb its depths,
for I was born for adventure.
I know you do not like to acknowledge this,
but riding life’s currents is the only school I desire.
Right now I am inexperienced;
the years in front of me are many.
Thank you for the wisdom to tie me here a while longer
with only a stone that does not a proper anchor make,
for I will grow in knowledge and in strength.
Then my determination will dislodge this killick,
and you shall watch me sail away one day.
Don’t fret, dear ones; you have raised me well.
I’ll be ready for the voyage of my life.
I feel a slight touch on my arm and look down
and………….it’s a spider
Despite the heavy circumstances in my life and a
migraine weighing me down
I fly to my feet and spin around trying to dislodge
the creature that is much more nimble than I am
I try leaping as each joint in my body complains,
I try flicking it off, but as we are both moving,
it evades me and continues to run down my bare arm
I rush to the door and fling it open and continue
my graceless dance on the porch as the neighborhood
begins to wake up for the day, I am pretty sure I am
yelling at this point and I feel sweet relief as the
eight legged arachnid jumps from me to the porch railing
as I sigh and begin to realize where I am and who else
is present. I wave to my neighbor and say a chipper
“good morning” as my face floods with color and I realize
I am acting very odd, but to be honest, who cares?
The spider and I are both safe it’s not crawling on me
anymore. I sigh and begin my day, hopefully without
encountering any more of God’s eight legged creatures.
Welcome to The State of Dis Union.
Here are some “dis” words to describe The State of Dis Union.
Dismantle, disruptive, disagree, disrespectful, distract,
Disappointing, disable, discredit, disregard, disobey,
Dislike, disloyal, dislocate, disaffiliate, disrepute,
Disgrace, disaffirm, dishonest, disembark, disinfect
Disgusting, disturbing, dismiss, discontinue, disarm,
Disconnect, disorderly, disassociate, discreet,
Disapprove, dissent, dispute, disorientated,
Disorderly, discord, disadvantage, disbelief,
Displeased, dislodge, disclaim, dishonor, distant,
Disarray, disconcerted, disintegrate, disinform,
Dismal, disown, dispatch, disparity, disguise,
Discriminate, discard, dissolve, distort, distrust,
Discombobulated, disband, discountenance, disaster…
Yep, sounds about right.
The pay back
The Adelsons, a rich Jewish family in the USA
Gave millions of dollars to Trump with the understanding of let Israelis move into the West Bank as we see the IDF are moving in there
Killing many, trying to dislodge the Palestinians
It appears what the failed to do in Gaza
The military are now brutalizing the local people, which is against the law, that as we know Israel does not respect
Forks can be multi-purposed.
I keep one in my purse for emergencies.
They are good to retrieve things that slide under booths in restaurants.
Helpful to dislodge cockleburs from dog's fur
Part my hair when I am waiting for a friend at Gilly’s Café.
A fork does not pull your hair as hard as a comb.
The words still come
Gather
Vying for attention
Silently shouting
Choose me, choose me
I am the subtle variation
The thoughtful import
You seek
NO…choose me
I am the hook
That will reel them in
Heads shaking
To dislodge
A newly imbedded
Thought
Others think
He’ll never choose us
We are too simple, too plain
Alliterative aliens
Seeking a blank verse savor
Others smirk
Thinking….
He wouldn’t dare use me
My double entendre
Would boggle the minds
Of the one-dimensional reader
Languishing
In the lunacy
Of language
Spent yesterday projectile
So violently I believe
Once or twice
It turned me inside out
It was not purty
What idigestable morsel
Was I seeking to dislodge ?
Dentist appointments cause me to linger,
Someplace betwixt dread and the blackness,
Fright’s version of despair,
Wistful and aching with silent prayers,
Silent, silence, soundless – still,
All the reasons, the responses, the requisites,
For those hours, endless times
Spent, losing my mind,
With mouth opened to oblige
Fingers pressed against my gums,
Forcing the enemy’s needles,
Taste of lidocaine, breathing in and out,
Through expanded nostrils,
Urgent moments, flooded with apprehension,
Distracted by the metal instruments,
Dreadful apparatuses,
Some intended to scrap at my enamel,
Pick at my fangs,
Some meant to dislodge roots,
Extract a tooth, - a part of me,
A portion of my flesh, my body,
Buried deep in my gums,
Where silent forces sing of dark horrors,
Will this dentist ever finish?
It seems like I’ve been in this chair for hours,
Looking at my watch….
Can it have only been five minutes!?!
The truest of the truthful dukes who chooses to amuse the fuse of the groove to let loose /
So soon a bloom that is to loom over any gloom /
Forget bigots they’ll never get big like shots or lots /
As I’m aloft through the roof of this joint like I smoked your top locks off /
It's time to prove a hue of stooge slew anew over the slop and open up shop /
This is just my hop to jot through rot like I’m laying sod around the job /
Lost a corn cob as I jogged and juiced a hog in marinade across the log /
Sogged the mob and their pishposh hodgepodge /
Lobbed a rock at her wishy wash lodge she thought she had locked /
Got a troth full of suave to unlock and dislodge /
As we opt for a broth onslaught to loft all the costs /
I mopped the spot of rot sought after by maggots /
We hoped not to botch what my hero’s fruition brought us /
But a lying jont of stop watch witches forgo wishes and forge a lot unjust /
Upped the ante of the pot and ended with no loss just profit /
Stunned the evil planning in a trot as we tended to our cause
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