the first glimmers of morning
are reflected on the lake in Jaipur
temple dancers-devadasi
in a tangle of hands and long-haired shadows
welcome the new day like cobras...
while women on the shore (blow after blow)
are pounding their laundry –
they want to punish life…
LIFE which is neither bad nor good
just flows like water…
Bella's entrancing green eyes
stare wistfully into my own.
She's a windowsill jumper, bounding with grace
whose taken over my apartment as if it's her place.
She's such a pretty little kitty, a catnip dancer
who seems to see herself as a feline, divine.
She charmed me on the day I found her
but as a rescue, she needed time to come to me.
I know this is where she was meant to be.
Sweet girl with a history that remains a mystery
She never meows with sass when corrected,
and her purrs are soothing whispers in the night.
Bella brings me hours of great joy
so, I reward her loyalty with a toy or two.
Wearing a long-haired burnt umber coat,
she sidles up to me, anticipating a petting.
Bella bestows love that I'll not be forgetting
A lap-curler when she chooses to be social
but aloof which proves the theory to me...
'Sometimes cats just like being left alone.'
touch of your front paws
touch of long-haired cats fur coat
your meow in my ear
8th grade algebra class
Hyper chit chat from black-caped Louis
And his stringy long-haired buddy Richard
In the hallways before class they slap
The bare back necks of unsuspecting classmates
Stamping foreheads
Making the nuck nuck and whoop whoop of Larry Moe and Curly
That’s what they were re-enacting
With knees slipped under their tiny desks
As Mr. B has his back turned
Scratching formulas from his nails on the blackboard
When he pivots like a pitcher to boos
Lifts his toes to first base and baseball throws
The felt eraser full of all his mis-calculations
A lifetime of rage
Poof powder
Waffle imprint on Richard’s cheek
A cloud of chalk blonds his hair
Beards his performance grin
Richard has a look like when he’s seen his dad
Come home again and again and again
After happy hour
Leaps to his bedroom door
Holding the side of his face
“You can’t do that! You can’t do that!”
Out he disappears
Mr. B clasps his hands and fixes his face to his family
“Now for quiet.”
And we don’t dare say anything.
My long haired cat
skinny but looks fat
does not like rats
she plays on her mat
swats at gnats
and loves to be pat
one long haired cat
sitting by open fridge door
taking inventory
“The employee shortage is so bad that long haired freaky people can now apply!”
~ seen on a mobile sign
Being of sorta sound mind and long hair,
I dare to compare myself with the supporters,
defenders of the length though “at my age, I
S
H
O
U
L
D”
cut it in a current style to look younger, I’m told.
Stand up. Stand proud. Stand firm.
My hair length does not define my age, my hubris,
my intelligence, my popularity, my worth, or my freakiness.
Whatever… Maybe now I will be able to get a job. LOL
The laundry needed changing
Impossible in the house I was trapped
Long-haired pot-smokin' hippies
Cluttered the hallways, impeding my progress
Laughing and blocking my movements
Arms full of clothes
The way I saw it, I had to get out
Rushing the streets I sought refuge at the
Laundromat way down the street
Finally free I finished my laundry chores
Content I had shaken evil influences
Leaving the window open
Letting fresh air in
Attending an ‘SDS’ meeting
Watched ‘Democracy’ take a beating
Listened to strident, long-haired voices denounce the USA
shilling for Marx, Hegel, and Lenin all the way
As for ‘law and order,’ it was ‘Kill the Fuzz.’ ‘Off the pigs’
SDS ‘big bad wolves’ sure got in their digs
"Boycott Israel, the apartheid state"
Accusations against South Africa could wait...
‘Systemic racism, colonial imperialism, a fascist President’
The SDS in 1969 ~ blazing trails for today’s arguments…
________________________________________________
"SDS," Students for a Democratic Society, was the 1960's
forerunner of the 'cultural Marxism' infecting universities and
even some corporate boardrooms today.
Those Bikes
See the goth heavy metal custom motorcycle
Ride past with a long haired rider
Dressed how they should be dressed
Black jeans t shirt denim leather
Low rider chopper as it should be
With twin coffin saddle bags
What a ride to the other side
Give him Devil fingers\M/!
Then there was a classic looking bike
Parked up alone
And I saw two racing bikes
One with a fairing the other naked
Heard his engine as he passed
A man asked me on the bridge
Where am I going?
Planet Mars on a custom bike
With my chick and loud tunes
I had never seen such a pretty bathroom.
Sculpted flowers on the wall were oversized.
Light dainty touches were found in every corner.
Scented exotic toilet paper had a lemon fragrence.
The air smelled like cinnamon, and I could breathe in here.
I stayed as long as I could.
My aunt's long-haired cats could not get in
And I am allergic to cats.
“My Cousin Joan’s going to let Danny stay with her in Toronto, Honey.”
“Toronto? What the holy hell are you talkin’ about, June? Danny’s just finished college. He’s not going anywhere. What--he’s a draft dodger now?"
“It’s all arranged, Sam. Our son’s going to be drafted. He’ll be sent to Viet Nam. He might get himself killed!"
“Damn it all to hell! I raised a draft dodger. He’s going to be some pot head hippy in Canada. Over my dead body he is! Did that pansy friend of his, Lester-that long-haired loser brainwash him? What’s going on here?”
“Don’t scream at me, Honey. It’s his decision. His lottery number’s 38. The cut-off was 100!"
“He can get the holy hell out of this house and never come back, as far as I’m concerned, that commie coward!”
“Stop, Sam, please. You’ll wake up Bobby. You’ll scare him."
“Let Bobby wake up! Let him learn what a loser his brother is. And what are you crying about?"
“It’s the holidays. All the Christmas songs and the lights. This ruins everything. I feel ill!”
“Then Merry Christmas—Feel better now?”
12/9/22
THIRD RUNNER UP!
Dialogue Proficiency Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Matt Caliri
A bug who loved to doodle
was floating on a noodle.
He had to get some sunscreen;
the sun was getting brutal.
He could not reach the lotion;
he needed a commotion
to interrupt the pristine,
make waves just like an ocean.
He saw a pretty spider;
he sidled up beside her
to ask if she would help him
because she was a glider.
She glided to a lady
Who was a big fat ‘fraidy.
A-shriekin’ and a-yelpin’,
she made the pool all wavy.
Our bug packed his caboodle,
then hopped out off his noodle.
It seems that he was last seen
astride a golden doodle.
So if you don’t want cancer,
and you’re a take-a-chancer,
a long-haired dog romancer,
doodles may be your answer.
Impossible mission to uncouple accountability,
(no matter minuscule - veritable drop within
figurative bucket when quantity contrasted/
compared alongside industrial waste courtesy
major corporations), yet helplessness prevails
survival (mine) inextricably bound trappings
twenty first century allow, enable, and provide
exploiting even dollop so called nonrenewable
resources, I could sacrifice corporeal entity -
body, mind and spirit within eyeblink exhales
last breath before becoming repurposed - inert
cremated ashes randomly scattered across all
points encompassing terrestrial world wide web.
Obituary -
Despite havoc primate species did wreak
from the afterlife I figuratively speak
and applaud millennials whose peak
performance accorded courtesy
your token "aged hippie,"
mild mannered and meek
and long haired pencil necked geek,
whose disembodied spirit
now volunteers as Halloween sideshow freak
incorporating gallows humor tongue in cheek.
I was sleeping and right in the middle of a good dream
Like all at once I wake up from something that keeps knocking at my brain
Before I go insane I hold my pillow to my head
And spring up in my bed screaming out the words I dread
I think I love you (I think I love you)
Lyrics from I Think I Love You (The Partridge Family)
over and over again
with premature penmanship
i write your name, right next to mine
they share a pillow before i do
my first and maiden name
your first and our last name
my first, your last
Mr. And Mrs.
O the cursive kisses
before we met, there was a psychedelic bus
adventures of a long-haired voice
though not my idol choice
still the romance with his superb notes
he passed them to me
i ate up the heartbeats, ooh Bandala—
he’s coming for me, and i hold
that pillow to my brain
i think he loves me
i think he loves me
i wear his wedding band
their bands of gold
with leaves
i leave behind a fantasy
to fantasize my life
with thee
2/13/2022
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