Canaigre a leafy buckwheat
right here in the high desert!
Drive an hour, hike an hour,
find some shade, sit in dirt.
Identify plants, photograph rocks.
Raven and scrub jay.
Coleogyne and cercocarpus,
single-leaf ash and squawbush.
What else have I seen?
Juniper, the source of all penumbra.
The rift that took the river eons to carve,
caves for cougar and Anasazi.
The sand and soil are Mars red,
iron oxides deposited by ocean
200 to 20 million years ago.
That’s nuthin compared to the wind in my head!
Meanwhile it’s Spring back east,
geopolitical and existential dramas
perdure without surcease,
our quince has blossomed and slumbered.
Joint-fir, ephedra, arid
sagebrush and rabbitbrush.
But juniper berries stay
nuclear blue-green!
(a love story)
It’s like my brain is dating me - but it’s complicated.
I was talking to my favorite person the other day.
You might call it an internal monologue.
I really like me,
but I keep me under self-surveillance.
I know me well - we've been intimate.
I rely on myself a lot.
Sure, I've let me down
but I feel me trying.
I feel my pain.
That's metaphorical pain,
I'm in no physical, or existential pain,
my dramas are interior, but the stakes are real.
I carry contradictions,
I’m constantly auditioning for my own approval.
I like my opinions, I understand them.
I'm not a fan of the pug nose, but no ones perfect
- except maybe Ansel Elgort (that man can get it).
My mission, over the next few years,
is to build a usable self
from emotional nonfiction,
a stable self-love,
and my mix of inherited qualities.
.
.
A song for this:
Cameo Lover by Kimbra
The UK’s own Kate Winslet
Acting in “Titanic” she got plenty wet
More than a few awards she has won
In period dramas she can’t be outdone
Don’t be so hard on yourself, my friend..
Life’s too short to twist and bend.
The world will whirl with noise and fuss..
But not every storm belongs to us.
Let worries drift like passing breeze..
Unclench your jaw, drop your keys.
The sky won’t fall if you just pause..
And take a break from all its cause.
Kick off your shoes, stretch out your toes..
Let calm return in quiet flows.
No need to chase each shout or scoff..
Sit back a while.. just wander off.
The dramas shout, then fade away..
They’re loud at night, but gone by day.
So sip your tea and breathe in slow..
Let gentle moments steal the show.
Be kind to you.. give peace a chance..
Life’s not a race, but more a dance.
So put your feet up, rest your mind..
And leave the heavy world behind.
There are many good people from Hollywood. Hollywood is a working class district of L.A. (1 of 42 districts). Celebs don't live there which includes the Epstein ilk. Bad people are all over the place, especially the Red States and their people who voted for the bad leaders. There are bad dictators all over the world, repressing the women, not just in America. I've never heard of KKK members in Hollywood, I have in the Maga States. Let's not bundle all people in Hollywood, that is ignorance!
A good Ambassador Hollywood, to the world along with Jazz music, Hollywood movies, with their dazzling musicals, bright comedies, and intense dramas, and Si Fi, has been the dream maker for the world! Even those working in the movie industry were by and large hard working Americans. Glamorous actors just a tip of the ice berg. For those conservatives, they should remember Regan was a product of Hollywood. Thank you very much.
In the digital kitchen where metaphors boil,
I cast my rhymes into the simmering soup,
Hoping for gold in the luminous toil,
Watching the cursor in a silvery loop.
A notification blooms—a digital flower—
First place! The screen turns into a glowing violet,
I am a giant for one shining hour,
Wearing a crown made of a pristine sonnet.
The poets applaud with binary applause,
My words are like pearls in a silken sack,
Suspended high above the gravity laws,
Without any intention of looking back.
Then comes the speechlessness—a vast, white void,
Another contest, another empty plate,
My rhyme is shattered, a paper humanoid,
Left in the digital vestibule of fate.
The soup is bitter, the pixels turn to grey,
I drown in the stanzas that nobody reads,
Watching my reputation drift away,
Among the respectable mentioned weeds.
I am climbing a ladder made of commas,
Falling into a valley of exclamation points,
Winning and losing, the constant dramas,
Where the screen aches in its digital joints.
The winner is a ghost in a tuxedo,
The loser is a shadow on the wall,
Yet both are feeding the same hungry ego,
In the soup that tastes like nothing at all.
The best day of my life, I was in absolute pain
The pain was so bad that it drove me insane
A war with my body, I was about to be slain
My cries for help were completely in vain
My body was in a full blown crisis
I felt like I was being slaughtered by ISIS
Labor pains are real, they didn’t come to play
Thank god for epidurals cuz I was not okay
I was pregnant with the most beautiful girl
Someone who’s taking my place in the world
A few hours later she made her appearance
It was then I first felt motherly coherence
An instant imprint, our bond was sealed
This little girl would be the reason I heal
All my struggles and all my past traumas
Didn’t matter now, they just became commas
Because at this point I became a new mama
It made me forget all of life’s petty dramas
I look at her face and forget the rest of the world
She was there in my arms, so tender and curled
She brought me out of a mental darkness
Because I was used to a life of hardness
The girl who saved me from a life on the shelf
She was the girl who saved me from a life by myself
Puseletso
Young, scared, enthusiastic, thoughtful, curious
Obsessionist of K-dramas, lover of poetry.
Whole night sorrows underneath my pillow;
Nightmare hits, and scared of attachments.
Every day I hope to rise, but fall down below;
Meets magical tales and spell enchantments.
At peace with things, I watch Korean dramas,
Better to watch than those who don't care about!
Selfless in my service, but their dilemmas—
No need of an egotist, hopeless; please get out!
All I ask for is peace at a time, and just me;
Leave, or let me live away, all the way out free.
Even if I care, I am attached, and what not?
All that I ask for is a respectful gesture around.
Things which I have left behind will live alone.
I talk less but speak my mind and let it be alone.
It doesn't matter if I'm lost right now and then;
All I live and think about is a great, great friend.
Two peas in a pod
she’s so hot
both showing off
branded shades and shoes
his arms circle her
a prison so secure
how could she not
want some more
from her flat belly
dramas emerge with Rasta son
this mother with belladonna daughter hum
a priestess or princess
he does not know
it is all part of their show
Two peas in a pod
she’s so hot with potato
koeksusters on Sunday morning
legs like pegs in African colour sprawling
Woohoo ! both peas were soldiers with MKs
one from Zimbabwe
other from Mzantzi
sharp-shooting was their skill
in past for a kill
now their drama is
for paying fat bills !
~~~~~~~~~~~
On life's stage, masks of false smiles dance in the lights,
People seem close, but distance hides behind the curtains.
In whispered conversations when friends leave, the truth is unveiled,
Online, perfect vacations hide dramas and swirling sorrows.
No one is truly bad, just people carrying unseen burdens,
Insecurities and fears that sometimes make hearts seem astray.
It might be jealousy or a bad day that casts a shadow on kindness,
Pessimism settles in the soul when you realize the greatness and fragility.
Like a shattered myth, you understand that no one is truly perfect,
Those who seem to have it all under control play a well-chosen and select role.
You stop expecting dreamlike friendships, seeking only a few sincere and real ones,
And you understand that it's enough to tie your soul to loyal people.
Winds of honest scented
insistence glided my wings
through life’s many dramas.
Raw breezes fragrantly
touched my unsure skin
with soothing perfumes
promising my faith was
not errantly consumed.
I thought, go until I had it,
not go until the path quit
without signs I had tried.
I imagined a target future
sat for my eventual,
precisely aimed, bullseye.
That’s a notion I did covet,
even leaned it towards perfect.
If bottled, wind's cologne could
release sachets of peace to
waft serene blends upon and
through times of disquietude.
I use a tv set as if it were a radio
listening while I do other things
my childhood through the sixties trained me well
while I listen to my dramas, I play word games
write poetry, draw pictures and cartoons and paint
when I do look up, the drone of the tv coaxes me into a nap
I love listening to a tv
it is almost as great as listening to a radio
Life grew bland, banal, other B words
she said I need to gather a troupe
of like-minded sufferers
set up some auditions, form
a select band
we'll workshop the basics
characters, costumes
And then we'll act out the rest of our lives together
no need for cameras
or an audience
call it pure theatre
oh the dramas we will have
No it won't be any stranger than
singing in the parlour for friends
without a microphone, a paying crowd
you can call it the folk tradition
phenomena
light
vibrant
frozen
frills
of
layered
energy
exhilerating
diintegrating
dramas
pervasive
impulsive
spheres
scrawled
quasars
conscious
wellsprings
of
evolved
entanglements
OPEN FORM in lowercase without grammatical symbols ,uses spaces&breaks relying upon 'the one breath limitation' & as a 'happening' requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input &respond in a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood & thus is inherently variable.
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