Would I rather be me or a Celebrity?
Celebrities get stalked
No one stalks me
Celebrities give autographs
No one asks me
Celebrities get interviewed
No one knows me
Celebrities get mobbed by fans
In some ways, I am glad to be me
I guess she grew the largest cucumber we’ve ever seen in this state.
Hurry up and dress, we do not want to be one second late
My granddaughter has a growing thumb that goes beyond green
the super-duper cucumber she grew was a monster machine!
The mayor came out, and the prissy governor was there
I did not get near her, it simply was not quite fair
I am her grandma I yelled to the news station
Thinking I might be interviewed for the occasion
No one cared about me, an old woman, invisible now
They were all over my granddaughter who took a bow
The cucumber was grinning wide, somewhat becoming
I guess he did not know that being pickled would soon be forthcoming
Some say "butterfly", some say "bee" -
it's the pollination Olympics from sea to sea.
I interviewed a flower, shy and demure -
"Which is the insect that you prefer?"
It turns out she wasn't so shy at all,
yapping like she was on sodium pentothal.
"A butterfly has such beautiful wings,
while a bee buzzes and sometimes stings,
and as far as I know, nobody has heard
of a butterfly ever saying a word.
A bee works hard and makes lots of honey,
but a butterfly looks better and his jokes are funny.
So, I married the bee, because he can provide,
but I love to see the butterfly on the side."
Through a work-study program, I landed my first job at a candy store.
A Willy Wonka wonderland of sorts.
Rows of empty calories and future cavities.
The pay was 2.75 an hour; I'd have worked for free.
Within 3 weeks, I stacked on ten pounds of virgin acne.
A short time before that, I'd interviewed at a meat processing plant.
Took a polygraph test.
Didn't get the job and felt rejected.
The good lord bush wacked me onto a different path.
Led me away from cow carcasses and death.
Straight into the forest of Lord Licorice and Candyland.
pelican or unicorn? Hard to choose.
Just pick one said my cousin, you can’t lose.
Pelicans interviewed in threes and twos.
Unicorn came in wearing my husband’s shoes.
Opera evening.
It was winter when I came home, having been in Spain for twenty years; cold and snow, and I wore sandals; I asked my mother for woolen socks, but she wouldn’t give me any since I didn’t live here anymore. My sister, who was there too, agreed. Having no home, I went to the cinema to see Casablanca, got lost, and walked through a maze of empty streets where everyone sat indoors watching TV; I could tell by the flickering blue light on the curtains. When I finally got there, it was an opera house and a premiere, with plenty of horse-drawn carriages outside, where the famous were being photographed and interviewed by a sycophantic, yet resentful, press that hoped the horses would bolt. “ I’m an opera lover,” I said, and sang an aria from Madam Butterfly, but they still wouldn’t let me in, the sandals you see. So I walked back home, only it wasn’t there anymore; it had been turned into a parking lot. It served me right for being away too long.
I woke up on a rooftop watching rain clouds mold
A seagull wearing sunglasses whispered secrets dipped in gold
A vending machine hummed softly saying life will sometimes fold
While a robot on a skateboard swore the future favors the bold
Old posters on the alley walls muttered nothing stays too old
And a wandering saxophone released the notes it had to hold
A suitcase full of riddles claimed its truths were never sold
And a neon painted turtle kept the city from turning cold
My shadow high fived strangers every gesture smoothly rolled
While a mime in glowing sneakers warned that rules were meant to scold
I grabbed a cup of lightning felt its shiver as I hold
And watched my drifting thoughts get interviewed and slowly polled
Blessings rained like glitter every spark precisely doled
As the skylines massive heartbeat struck each second that it tolled
I stepped into a sunrise shaped by stories I once bowled
And walked through shifting timelines where my voice never pigeon holed
I wrote it all down laughing as the universe just strolled
Then signed my name beneath it leaving a legend fully scrolled
Charlie Kirk
On YouTube
An Australian podcaster
interviewed
The esteemed colonel
Macgregor
who, at the end of the talks
that Charlie Kirk had received
millions of dollars
from Israel
This painting is disturbing for us
picture and might have
contributed to the slaying
Charlie Kirk
A small war
At the outskirt of Europe, a war
has broken out in countries where everyone drives Lada
mothers interviewed are proud of their sons
defending their land.
Should one son die, a big picture will appear in the living room
neighbors invited to coffee and cakes
his proud mother will tell what a good boy he was
and he died with honor.
I suppose in Nazi Germany, mothers said the same
until there were no sons left.
There will be peace, and everyone will claim victory
life will go on among the semi-literary people
who are doomed to live among high mountains and not learning
from past mistakes
You are getting on, old fruit
Too obese to wear your new suit
Your face resembles a wrinkled prune
Old age is showing on you too soon,
What has happened to your lustrous hair
Your scalp is shiny and noticeably bare
Your jowls are hanging lower than your chin
My word, I cannot believe what a state you're in
Shoulders that were broad and strong
They are now all hunched and look all wrong.
Your knees are knobbly and a little bent,
The left leg forgot where the right one went.
I can not understand you when you talk,
Your brain, not your legs, has gone for a walk
Your eyes look blank, staring into space
You have lost touch with the human race.
We lost touch over the years,
After sharing much laughter and some tears
I have just seen you interviewed on TV
Old fruit, it was a shock to me,
To see you sitting in a chair,
With all the hoi polloi and fanfare there
Smiling happily from ear to ear
Holding up a glass of cheer
With the TV presenters and your guests
Wishing you the very best
And the audience stood up to say
Many happy returns of your 110th BIRTHDAY!
Through the Ages
I'm back in the streets of my childhood
no, there is no fanfare I have lived long
in a place with warmer hearts
Here, where I was born, I feel foreign
so much so I'm not sure if I remember
another child's life
1948, when bleakness was white
I nevertheless saw a green soot between
the house in a crack, it had been rain
but I could smell spring
At that time, a man of twenty-eight was
regarded as too old to get married
Those who made it to sixty-five were
interviewed by the local paper and asked
how come he reached this age
We played with an empty bottle of booze
wondered if it had a secret hidden from
us, because the adults behaved funny
after drinking its liquid, sometimes men
fought, and women screamed.
The house where five families lived
in poverty, has been modernized and
is now an office building, do the new
occupiers sense the smell of poverty
emitting from walls
I cut the shackles and fled, but my
memories often drive me back
like it or not, most of my generation has
died out, they were too modest to
appear in history books
They interviewed the artist
inside her large blueprint mansion.
At one point, she criticized America
for being overtly materialistic.
Her painting studio was large enough to
house half a dozen desperados...
Instead, it harbored dozens of giant unsold paintings.
I was amazed by how bright a person could be completely blind to their own
devastating hypocrisy.
Ex-presidents
There was a man, not very tall, selling
pornographic pictures at a corner of a
street
Once he had all the power, one could
dream of, as a military junta took his
job, and since all he had was grand
villas were in the name of the state and
Furthermore, he had neglected to pay
anything to his retirement fund
Hence, reduced selling of naughty
picture of visiting statemen having sex
in some sleazy hotel
when those who had bought the pictures
took a closer look, they realized they
had a goldmine
the man on the corner was smuggled
to
Brussels got an offer he could not refuse
He lives in Rhyad and takes delight
counting all the rolling heads in Europe
Nothing is new; it's what politicians do
when losing power, he joined the TV circus and
get interviewed telling the same sorry story
and the more fibs they tell, the more we
enjoy gossip and slander.
Read about a family
With a house of sparkling lights,
Which take months for them to hang
For weeks of festive Christmas nights.
They made the Guinness Records book
And people drive for miles
To cruise around their property
With oohs and aahs and smiles.
Their neighbors, though, are not so pleased
With all the crowds and noise,
Which brings both trash and brightness
And their quietude destroys.
When interviewed, the family said
They’d rather have a hand
In bringing joy to strangers,
Which their town should understand.
I see both sides, but what I know
Is that their huge display
Makes me glad they’re not my neighbors -
If they were, I’d move away!
I am young but I have grown up
some, and with a new job set up
now, plus home and car all got up
here, thanks to how I was brought up.
Interviewed with the higher-up
then, the foreman and I met up
and, got things before I start up,
turned, the crew gave me a thumbs up.
The work, like my past jobs, speed-up
so I had no time to warm up
cause, 'twas busy now we're caught up
in time for lunch, we all eat up.
'Twas a great first day as we wind up,
... byes and smiles that just lift me up.
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