Long Monroe Poems
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(Here, Clark Gable is speaking.
Gaylord Langland was the character
he played in the just-completed
movie. "Trotsky" is his nickname
for Arthur Miller and the "little
girl" is Marilyn Monroe. Gable did
not attend the wrap party and died
of a hreat attack the following day.)
Gaylord
Everything just happened wrong.
It'll do that, sometimes.
A movie set is like a ship, I guess.
Some are happy, some not.
I'll skip the party.
I've seen enough,
and I'm feeling kind of rough.
Trotsky? I won't bad-mouth the guy.
He knows so many things,
but he doesn't know women.
It was sad to watch him try.
When a woman decides, inside,
to pass on you, you're screwed.
Not even dynamite will do.
I told him, "Don't cling.
Stop thinking you can change things."
His intellect is all he had,
and he certainly deployed it.
But pain is part of the deal.
Can't none of us avoid it.
The little girl? We had a fling.
She's not like anybody thinks.
The brassy, buxom *****
is some ad-man's creation.
She's a brittle little child.
Her skin is too thin.
You cut your hand, she feels it.
In my philosophy,
it's a simple equation:
they pay me, I show,
ready to go. I don't know
why they need these
analysts and therapists.
Business before show.
She asked a bunch of stuff,
couldn't get enough.
Wanted my suggestions.
Hungry to hear about Harlow,
got me over a barrel
on Yvonne De Carlo.
Even asked about Carole.
I said, "Easy, Harietta.
You'll never know a man better
by asking him questions.
Schools are closed, there is no mail
And stores hold special sales.
To honor our first president,
That’s what this day entails.
Though technically, our 16th prez
Is celebrated, too.
To make a Monday holiday,
That’s what they chose to do.
The 40-something other men
Who served the USA
As presidents were not awarded
Their own special day.
So sorry Adams, Jefferson,
James Madison, Monroe,
John Quincy Adams, Jackson
And Van Buren – all are no.
Poor Harrison and Tyler,
Polk and Taylor, Pierce and Grant,
Fillmore, Johnson and Buchanan,
Hayes and Garfield – no, you can’t.
Arthur, Cleveland and McKinley,
Harrison and Teddy R.,
Taft and Wilson, Harding, Coolidge,
Hoover, also FDR…
Truman, Eisenhower, JFK,
LBJ and Nixon, Ford,
Carter, Reagan, both the Bushes
And Bill Clinton – not on board.
Last, no day off for Obama.
As to he who’s right now serving,
I can’t think of anyone who might
Be any less deserving.
The me that you see’s just a face that I wear.
You have no idea what’s really on my mind.
The me of my soul regards you over there
As sly and elusive, your intentions undefined.
The me that you see stands a distance apart
From you coyly playing the role of a shrew.
The I of my mind steers a sensible course
By sidestepping driftwood and hazards like you.
You’ve been casting incantations
With your coven of dark ingenues.
I've been busy myself, pounding down my intentions,
Hammering a hard wrought point of view;
I don't need any more you.
As it is, it’s just grist for the mill.
But it leaves me with one thing I know,
We made as fine a couple
As Mr. Miller and Ms. Monroe.
Now take me off your mailing list.
I'll gladly burn your cards and letters, too.
We gave our torrid fling a New York minute.
It’s sad, but I can’t deal with any more you.
THIS SPACE REVERVED FOR
JOLTIN' JOE
Just before dawn
It is late at night, almost morning; the silence is as noisy as high
tide washing over the pebbled shore. Gloom hangs in the air like
a horse blanket covering a nag`s rain-sodden back.
Tomorrow is the first of October; years have been piling up on me,
this quiet messenger of spent youth and yesterday’s ghosts I have
done my best to ignore, are back mocking me.
Dawn, a cockerel crows I hope my neighbour will kill it and eat it
for his Sunday lunch. The intrusive unvoiced is like watching
a black & white reel of my life, a litany of failures.
Sigh, I didn`t get to meet Marilyn Monroe. This moment when I
Should take stock of my life, all I can think about is to buy
for the fire Monday morning
Some girls with the guys act like a kitten.
They know instinctively just what to do.
Soon enough, the guy will be quite smitten.
This method even now is tried and true.
The goddess known as Marilyn Monroe
knew well this kittenish alluring ploy.
Playboy bunnies know it like a pro.
Though naughty and flirtatious, they are coy.
It’s easier for women who are pretty,
but plain girls too can nab themselves a guy.
Use cosmetics. Then be like a kitty -
sweet, fun, and playful – giving them the eye.
Men might be dogs, but just remember that
the dog is always bound to chase the cat!
March 11, 2023
For Writing Challenge - 'K' Words - Poetry Contest, word #4
Sponsor: Constance La France
Oh captcha squares, oh captcha squares
What are these objects in your frames?
Oh captcha squares, oh captcha squares
Why must they gotta be the same?
Cars and busses, traffic lights
Bicycles and motor bikes
Crosswalks, signs, and steps and stairs
Fire hydrants everywhere
Boats, planes and parking meters
Tickets, fines, misdemeanors
Why are you so fond of these?
Why are palms the only trees?
Oh captcha squares, oh captcha squares
The pictures trapped inside of there
Oh captcha squares, oh captcha squares
Depict a world so bleak and bare
Arid, bland, unaesthetic
Barren, drab, unpoetic
Sterile, cold, antiseptic
Unconcerned, apathetic
Somber, sad, and desolate
Woeful, bland, pedestrian
Weary, grim, dreary, hopeless
Grainy, gray, out of focus
It doesn’t need to be this way…
Many things could fill your squares
Why not fill these things in there?
Tambourines and castanets
Bass trombones and clarinets
English horns and piccolos
Harpsichords and xylophones
Fiddles high and Irish whistles
Jingle bells and finger cymbals
5-string banjos, mandolins
Saxophones, accordions
Desmond Tutu and Mandela
Cassius Clay, Cinderella
Charlemagne and Genghis Kahn
George and Ringo, Paul, and John
Twain and Edgar Allan Poe
Wayne and Brando and Monroe
Ida Wells, Frida Kahlo
Steinem, Parks, and Ferraro
River Thames and stormy seas
Winter wrens and bumble bees
Cyprus, ash, oak, fir, and pine
Sassafras, willow, and lime
Daffodils and magnolias
Marigolds and begonias
Cabbage, beets, and potatoes
Carrots, beans, and tomatoes
Oh Captcha Squares, Oh Captcha Squares
If your pictures must remain
Oh Captcha Squares, Oh Captcha Squares
How aboutcha change the frames?
Captcha circles, captcha suns
All the captcha olygons
Wiggly captcha twiggly lines
Twisty captcha twiny vines
Captcha diamonds, captcha hearts
Captcha clovers, moons, and stars
Captcha ribbons, Captcha lace
Captcha colored string bouquets
Oh Captcha Squares, Oh Captcha Squares
We understand you're here to stay.
Oh Captcha Squares, Oh Captcha Squares
Just be more creative, OK?
This revolutionary fella followed by
Adams family patriarch,giving rise
twin heir (plain lee gifted "Renaissance
Man") Jeff force'n without hemming
and hawing, subsequently conceding
nexus (nor horse drawn Lexus) of Colonial
power to Madison, thence Monroe
buttoned up as suitable candidate after
which younger Adams elected.
Thirty four followed Jackson's club
trumpeting (some Obama nib bully)
bushwhacking their way predicated
on faulty Algorithm, charming
charismatically with hint of Clint
like glint in eyes, blinding populace,
sans ray gun (Reagan), Car Tour ring
with peanut gallery in tow, affording
(unpopularly pardoning unfashionably),
a Jerry rigged nixed son, followed
by John's son tainted by stain of Vietnam,
but with said Southeast Asian debacle,
one ken heady (sporting thick styled hair)
inherited an internecine conflict, essentially
precipitated, when Eisenhower hardened
political stance against any allies of the
Soviet Union, (sans The Viet Cong), and
pledged his firm support to Diem
and South Vietnam.
Now with preceding administration, one
harried true man unleashed advent of atomic
spectra upon Hiroshima, and Nagasaki, this
purported preemptive measure scary ruse
felt to thwart exaggerated Japanese government
threat (military intelligence) scheming to
wreak untold havoc upon American troops
within the Pacific theater of World War II.
The former horrific decision controversial,
then and to this day Hoover expert historian,
diverge, asper corroborating the necessity
to usher in the Cold War, yet majority foreign
policy wonks might grudgingly attest that
said thirty first commander in chief did maintain
a Cool Edge throughout onset when doomsday
clock began countdown to Armageddon,
an unimaginably blaring, deafening, earsplitting...
cacophony distant rumbles heard, nonetheless,
no Hard dinning ghoulish nightmare (potentially
obliterating all life on planet Earth) haunted
Wilson, nor Taft, only gunboat diplomacy
mere child's play exhorted, less catastrophic
comparison, when Teddy Roosevelt wielded
"big stick schtick" namesake corollary to the
Monroe Doctrine in 1904...ad nauseum.
Our childhood home in old Monroe
Is now home to someone I do not know
I knocked once but was left standing
Alone and waiting on the patio
Like when we waited for Dad many years ago
My family sold it when they up and moved away
Under some spell or hopeful for a change
Sometimes people need to go their own way
I saw your childhood home
After a handsome young man had died
Now looks dilapidated
And I don't dare go inside
I stopped next to the gravel driveway
Only to look
But I couldn't take a step or get too close
For I was frozen with fear
That perhaps Id see your injured ghost
Childhood is childhood and cannot last long
Sometimes Love flows in and away too quickly
For us to grab it or hold on
A house is a shell it's people that make it a home
And when they are gone it feels strange and lonesome
I cannot go back home ever again
For those places no longer exist
Except In my head
Who would I bring back, if I had only one
Perhaps a great leader, Kennedy or Lincoln
Or I could choose a musical icon
Such as John Lennon or Michael Jackson
Maybe a legend of the silver screen
Maybe Marilyn Monroe or James Dean
All gifts to the world, but the selfish truth
I would bring back the mother of my youth
The mother who, with sublime grace,
Applied lipstick and blush to her ivory face
The mother whose delicate jasmine perfume
Filled my childhood's every room
Whose all-day-long-to-cook beef stew
Was the first comfort food I knew
Her dancing steps, so full of ease
Until the claws of arthritis seized
Her laughter so free, her hugs so giving
Before these days of assisted living
I would return the fire to her hair
And raise her from the wheelchair
And, as I used to, watch her choose
Her dress, earrings, necklace and shoes
Then she'll softly kiss my cheek
Before going out, coiffed and sleek
To her I would give my own energy
To be, again, the woman in my memory...
10/09/18
for Caren Krutsinger's 'Who Would You Bring Back' contest
The guy who had long hair, now looks worse with short,
one chap looks so serious all the time, more than he ought;
strange that people like watching murder as tho' it's normal,
personally, I prefer something somewhat more magical.
American drama is paramount, Selleck past his sell-by date,
in fact, content is so prolific, it all starts to become second-rate;
La Brea is outrageous, I like weird but that's just stupid,
whoever wrote it, dreamed it up, their taste was insipid.
I used to think that BBC drama was weak, embarrassing,
but maybe not so bad after all, perhaps we like boring;
I read Mansfield was jealous of Monroe, JFK had the pair,
after 'dealing' with her, he had the time to stand and stare.
We live in fiction, even our own lives are completely unreal,
you like watching murder, careful you're not arrested for how you feel.