The brown rat tail maggot has a lovely wiggle
He is silent, not even a teeny tiny giggle
Smaller than a matchbox, or bee oh my oh me
From stagnant water drainpipe one crawls to me
We do the cha cha, this rat tail maggot and I
He gets into trash, next to stale blueberry pie
I send him to the landfill on Old Pike Road
He’ll get to devour decayed mold, ala mode
A drainpipe full of leaves
fallen like every dream,
as time silently thieves
moments of happiness,
gifting melancholy
like cobwebs on the eaves.
He staggers,
where once he counted steps
he now counts unsteady footfalls.
Life has become a minor earthquake
an aftershock still trembling
at the core of a wincing mind.
Many years ago, auntie had a stroke,
she careened to a halt,
yet carried on, speaking from deep within
a drainpipe language.
He was doing well, it was just the shakes,
a hesitancy in his gait.
He stopped drinking,
stopped falling down self-made trapdoors,
grasped for firmer handholds.
However, he knew
that he was a paper straw
and it sucked.
fragments of memory cling to my skin
like wet cigarette smoke -
rumors of midnight rainstorms
in the flashes of a gaudy neon sign.
mangled wing unfurls like a twisted umbrella
on a desolate highway,
misty landscape of shattered dreams -
foggy-eyed fairness, luminescent pyre, loitering.
phalanges grasping for purchase
on the slick precipice of a ruptured drainpipe,
as the pipe's raucous laughter echoes threw
cypress-lined alleys and deserted highway margins.
blackness of a darkened peep show captious,
a dolphin's perverse smile glint in the darkness,
an afterimage of unadulterated ecstasy,
as it slid its sleek flesh up against the cool glass.
promise of forbidden pleasure,
an octopus's silky tentacles
guiding the dolphin's exploratory tongue,
a slow waltz of surrender.
then snap—!?
punch spine.
floating up before being brought under,
eating its own seed.
A bunny feasts on a clover patch
The Keurig moans
Almost as badly as me
Breakfast
Been eatin’ the same cereal
Since 1952 (slow eater)
The debate rages
Should I put on pants
Watch the news
Let the friggin’ cat in
I slurp the milk from the cereal bowl
Been doin’ it since
You know 1952
The banana is bruised
Looks like it fell down the stairs
Easy chew
The Keurig is calling for water
Cat’s meowing for food
Firefighters just rescued a squirrel
From a drainpipe
Some guy in Pennsylvania
Wants to buy my house
“a quick cash deal’
Big decisions comin’ up
Shave shower do laundry
Watch Gunsmoke
Where’s that remote
Longshanks drainpipe and whistle through the day.
pterodactyls got it easy in this wide-open sky,
they glide too far up to be real anymore.
The beady-eyed slinkers that wriggle under our plodding boots,
they also avoid the earthshaking heaviness of light sleepers.
Beyond the curtains, a plastic pelican
has got its bill and belly stuck on a satellite dish,
now we can only receive small-minded thoughts in a soup bowl.
Strong winds are disrupting sleep patterns,
static pictures can only take baby steps or crawly shuffles.
Leggy winds go out to play in front of green screens,
illusions, made to promote the good-looking and perky.
A Taquilla worm,
revives taste buds it never had.
Close your eyes,
grip the edge of the bar,
think no harm,
slug it all down,
smile with your bottom lip.
Outside the evening
is crawling along
a drainpipe of sinking sun.
You should go home
but the lamp in your head
is already flickering,
so you order another worm.
Every morning and evening, I happen to watch parrots,
A pandemonium always adorns my guava tree;
Each parrot seems unique, having its very quaint merits,
Like angelic souls, they seem in physique and psyche free...!
What a strong jambiya dagger curved bill! Vertical stance!
Green drainpipe pants-clad legs! Clawed zygodactyl stylish feet!
The parrots that visit my tree in green the scene enhance,
In a romantic mood, merrily my guavas they eat...!
Splendidly observing humans, parrots mimic their speech,
So melodious is their Tabor pipe trumpeting song;
Ballet-like they grip, grasp, and at the highest top they reach,
A craft of the master craftsman, they're happy all day long...!
In my melancholic moods, parrots lift my heart and soul,
In gracing the charm of the world, parrots play a great role...!!!
the daffodil folk
by Michael R. Burch
to live among the daffodil folk...
slip down the rainslickened drainpipe...
suddenly pop out
the GARGANTUAN SPOUT...
minuscule as alice, shout
yippee-yi-yee!
in wee exultant glee
to be leaving behind the LARGE
THREE-DENALI GARAGE.
Published by Andwerve and Bewildering Stories as "escape!" This poem is about escaping from the rat race, urban sprawl, the military-industrial complex, the satanic mills of modern industry, and modern life in general. Keywords/Tags: Escape, Escapist, Escapism, Freedom, Fantasy, Surreal, Surrealism, Alice, Alice in Wonderland, Elf, Elves, Leprechaun, Leprechauns, Little Folk, Wee Folk, Sprite, Sprites, Pixie, Pixies, Fairy, Fairies
escape!
to live among the daffodil folk . . .
slip down the rainslickened drainpipe . . .
suddenly pop out
the GARGANTUAN SPOUT . . .
minuscule as alice, shout
yippee-yi-yee!
in wee exultant glee
to be leaving behind the LARGE
THREE-DENALI GARAGE.
Mum.
People come from all walks of life
some clever, daft and fun.
Some are tall and drainpipe like
and some are like my mum.
She's only small and cuddly
rounded in her frame.
When I look at my friends mums
well they all just look the same.
They are loving and they're giving
they put themselves last.
Making sure our needs are met
no matter what the cost.
They'll sit up all night to nurse you
when you're feeling ill.
Then when you wake up feeling well
our mum's are never still.
rushing here, rushing there
It's love that they portray.
We need to thank our mum's
for loving us this way.
I oiled the card of daily being
splashing the paint from glass; I pointed
slanting cheekbones of ocean streaming
on plate of jelly, I was joyed
to read the calls of some new lips
on tin fish scales; oh, it is cute,
But could you play Nocturne on ribs
of very noisy drainpipe flute?
P.S. My translation of poem by Vladimir Mayakovsky
Shuffling along a painted line
Marking dates of measured time
A wary way off the path,
where wayward footsteps dare to pass
Round wires' razor-sharp divide
Red-tailed hawks circle long and wide
Soul-mates screech; soar above
Sets of screams of scolding love
In fine feather for first flights fling
Around the vacant nest fledglings cling
Fostered till autumn's turn
Breasts ablaze, brown bands burn
On departing wings, black stripes earned
Metallic scratching, bird-feet rasping
The feeble chirping fades
Into dark, watery narrows stray
A nestling delivered by the dawn of day
"I flew straight again
It was the idea of you
We found you in a drainpipe
darling!"
A LEAPING ACQUAINTANCE
O ask me if a friend is mine for keeping
And I will scroll down her countenance in years
To show acquaintance that’s a target leaping
And I will tell you of the long nights’ weeping
Into the valley of the corrupted seers
That her acquaintance was a target, leaping
As if acts of confidence were seeping
Down the drainpipe like a burst of tears,
Asking if a friend is for safe keeping,
Secrets unravelled in the glare, bleeping
With the traffic of the times that hooked my peers
Just ask me if her friendship’s mine for keeping:
I say, a pox on their assiduous reaping
Their facts are gleaned where the bar sells beers
To show acquaintances like a target, leaping
On opportunity, grafting on chances, peeping
With trashy envious shades adrift in leers;
O ask me if this friend is worth the keeping,
I’ll show an acquaintance missed the target, leaping.
from IN MEMORY OF HER 2008)
Down the drainpipe the water clanged,
flowing in loud torrents,
pit-ter-pat-ter the metal sang
a sad and sorrowful lament.
The sky had burst with tears of woe
and sparrow fled to nest.
The butterflies where did they go
when all of us sought rest?
So long, the earth was drowned in rain
that ducks swam on the lawn.
No dry beds, no solace from pain
just the pat-ter, forlorn.
Tears ran silent in sympathy
for the losses yet unknown.
Ah, for bright sunshine’s harmony
and kindnesses once shown.
Pit-ter-pat-ter the drainpipe plead,
on and on it muttered,
certainly, it was time it said
for kinder bread and butter?
Date: 9/26/11
Poet: D. Guzzi
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