Long Siding Poems
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Salam, how are you there?
Wassalam, good, Alhamdulillah
How about the issue in Sabah
Nothing to worry
I am worried because you are my friend
I am okay; just want to know your opinion
No probs, what do you think of that opinion?
Does it hurt you personally?
Nope, it makes sense
I am not personally taking part, I have my own problem
Indeed but I am so sad, many don’t understand the situation
They are taking one side condemning Suluk in general
So as the other Suluk in Sulu archipelago
Many also condemning Melayu in general
I always think about others
My cousin, a policeman is in the frontline
I am so sad, pray hard
Please cry with me
I am here for you to lend your cry
Can I pretend nothing happen?
We can’t pretend to be nothing to happen
Then rest and cry with me
To make people understand is not easy
Sometime we also take time to understand our situation
I am hurt to what happen, we are being fooled by colonisers
They ask us to inherit this misery
Hmmm I am so sorry to hear that
Hopefully you won’t hate the Suluk generally
So, as long as it does not contradict to my stand
What is your stand supposedly?
At least I have one good friend from Jolo ancestry
I am a good friend because you are good
I know nothing about the war; I just wanted to know the peace
It’s really easy to smile and pretend that you are okay
Rather than telling people why you are sad
It’s not easy to imagine that war
I just want to keep it by my self
I wanted to keep this in my sleep
When I wake up tomorrow
Peace is expected to blow
Let have this peace to reign right away
The poem is made through the conversation with Malay friends from Kuala Lumpur about the conflict happened in Lahad Datu. We shall never put the bangsa in general as what we are thinking is right: Suluk is bad and Melayu is arrogant. We need a better understanding to conclude that each bangsa like Suluk and Melayu have nothing to do with the situation. It is a matter of siding the truth and rights. I therefore personally accepted if everyone hates me because I am Suluk and that would make the world stay in peace and to save peace, I am willing to be called such: “Suluk is bad and Melayu is arrogant” but the “country and world is peaceful” is achieved. The war declared ended today by Malaysian authority. Let Us All Save Peace. Layag Sug. 11th March 2013, Sandakan, Sabah, Malaysia!
My grandfather Hymie
spent his entire life at sea
his thick calloused hands
and ruddy complexion re
enforced non verbal body language
voluminous tomes as testimony
to countless years
(spilling into decades)
exposed to salty spittled
spumed raw elements que
sin art finest artisanal blended, crafted,
dredged by mother nature pre
pared within each trough and crest only
for thy fiercely weatherbeaten nee,
tough as rawhide, leathery,
chafed skin to me
not surprising, since
this mariner born, bred and near lee
schooled within
briny deep ever since knee
high (or so he claimed truth
to swirling rumor), jovialy
pleased that his purportedly
learnin' myth writ tik ne'r included
NEVER settn' foot in formal classroom,
his knowledge icy
anecdotes aced, surpassed,
and trounced that of what he
referred to as grenadier landlubbers
green behind the ears – glee
fully jabbing with his
unsheathed scabbard play flea
actually downplaying any exploits,
that didst educate him, prith ee
teaching him survival skills asper
getn' taut via eddy fied tests frequently de
siding a life or death outcome,
yet our Dickensian mutual friend
shared exploits while
he dressed not in tatters,
but self made clothes from cree
chores comfortable furs, and though
a striking appearance cut, ne'r
did this ole codger (fit as a fiddle
with tall slender build),
said middle aged man appeared quite be
coming. An aura, charisma, dogma
amazingly graced stalwart, gestalt,
deportment aie
found added an air of charming debonair,
esteeming flair, genteel heir
which tasked guessing years old,
aye presumed him to exit the uterine lair
at least a few score tours round oblate sphere
as aspect of youthfulness played across his eyes
one colored green like a spring day in the country,
the other jetblue sans burnin'
four pearl jam oyster cult year.
ah...them tha many decades past
since the merchant
from Neptune to mast
to nether world, though his parting seems
like it hapt last
year, noot nay twas scores o' full moons ago,
that grim reaper came swift and fast.
Orphaned Slab
by Odin Roark
They call me a foundation
once supporting siding and stone
wire
plumbing
shingles
Through the doors of my house
trailed family and friends
across kitchen floor
slanted slightly
letting Benny’s agate marbles
migrate to the corner
Atop my shoulders
a house of character once stood
usual middle class floor plan
even allowing spidery webs
their solace in pantry corners
squirrels their roof
foraging to cottonwood trees
shading the three second-story bedrooms
kept perfect for home visits
from children away at college
Downstairs
Everett’s TV room rocker
always moving back and forth
massaged my back
well
it was a mild massage through the flooring
mostly my imagination
coming as it did
through layered rugs and cat hair
Yeah
used to hear mother’s complaints
“That old vacuum is useless. We need a Kirby, damn it”
He’d usually stop his rocking for a second or two
then let her know “Just lean in more. All it needs.”
and back to his rocking “Kirby. Out of her mind.”
But
Come spring break
Sara’s boombox
was rocking of another kind
no imagination needed there
reminded me how secure
this old foundation was
until the afternoon when…
Felt like a distant train
but the clackety-clack of rail cars
was out of sync
out of control
Wind moved in
then rain
then wind and rain
then that God-awful train again
had to be from Hell
or someplace worse
thundering through…
It was a long night
Been a long couple of weeks
Weeds and spider webs now connect
through cracks in my body
A squirrel or two survived
peeking about once in a while
still clinging to their downed cottonwood
wishing the foraging path was still there
wishing there was something to forage
Me?
Well
I’m just a surviving foundation
awaiting tomorrow’s sunrise
hoping for just the right temperature
early in the morning
before the sun adds its bleaching effect
and I start to remember again
Perhaps I’ll have earned
some afternoon showers
some nourishment for the weeds
some droplet sparkles
for my spidery friend’s web
and who knows…
We’re regretful of so much loss
the other slabs and me
but a foundation is a foundation
that’s what we’re built for
The start-ups
The start-overs
Orphan today
adopted tomorrow
So goes the life of a slab
A life some might say
is a thankless existence
Not so
(scoured from dregs of me muss held head)
I shore up a vignette to free
my ("FAKE") grandfather Hymie,
whose scrunched countenanced
evinced beetle that of browed monkey
he spent his entire life at sea
his thick calloused hands
and ruddy complexion re
enforced non verbal body language
voluminous tomes smoothed
nick holed money
to countless years (spilling into decades)
exposed to salty spittle nee
where watery terrain spumed
raw elements piscine
art finest artisanal blended, crafted, nein
mean feet resources dredged reluctantly
relinguished by mother nature mean
craftily pared within each trough and crest
found thee old man with privateer mein
whose skin fiercely weatherbeaten
leathery and lean,
epidermis tanned tough
as rawhide, reptilian, prithee
chafed skin to me
not surprising, since
this mariner born, bred and near lee
schooled within briny deep ever since knee
high (or so he claimed truth
to swirling rumor), jovialy
pleased that his purportedly
learnin' myth writ tik ne'r included
NEVER settn' foot in formal classroom,
his knowledge icy
anecdotes aced, surpassed,
and trounced that of what he
referred to as grenadier landlubbers
green behind the ears – glee
fully jabbing with his
unsheathed scabbard play flea
actually downplaying any exploits,
that didst educate him, 'ee
got taut learn'n survival skills asper
pre ponder hunt via eddy fied tests frequently dee
siding a life or death outcome,
yet our Dickensian
mutually bonding friendship
via shared exploits while
he dressed not in tatters,
but self made clothes from cree
chores comfortable furs, and though
a striking appearance cut, ne'r
did this ole codger (fit as a fiddle
with tall slender build),
said middle aged man
appeared quite becoming.
An aura, charisma, dogma
amazingly graced stalwart, gestalt,
deportment aie
found added an air of charming debonair,
esteeming flair, genteel heir
which tasked guessing years old,
aye presumed him to exit the uterine lair
at least a few score tours round oblate sphere
as aspect of youthfulness played across his eyes
one colored green like a spring day in the country,
the other jetblue sans burnin'
four pearl jam oyster cult year.
hanging out amongst those who are like minded
new to the group naive to the lies and deceptions
groomed with gifts fun spotlight low expectations
time goes by everything great money had you blinded
you had the lovers fame reputation all felt so right
competitiveness between group members alike
tension becomes intolerable to the point of dislike
truth be told about how to settle with a fist fight
threats were always spewed but no action taken
group members siding causing small divisions
most tired of the tension making hasty collisions
all about money fashion lovers has caused a shaken
this one particular night you decided not to indulge
feeling not up to par your soul making you elusive
hung out as usual thinking how things can be decisive
something felt off your intuition gave you a nudge
not feeling the vibe decided to step out side for air
unbeknownst to you the tension was thickening
come back in moments later you were witnessing
an argument turned deadly body sit dead in a chair
blood that carries secrets slowly coagulate
thick dark stickiness that drew in flies
smells whilst being puddling burying lies
sitting in panic with beads of sweat from distress
wondering what to do where to go who is who
paranoid with being inexperienced about crime
this was not part of a plan to hang out this time
nobody to trust running scared sleepless night too
would they let you just walk away knowing what you seen
following you haunting you in dreams to scare you quiet
this secret causing the heart and mind to have an inner riot
telling was out of the question not even mentioning the scene
seeing members from time to times looking with evil eyes
made you reevaluate the meaning of like minded people
following popularity status spotlight really reels in sheeple
darker than you will ever admit magic deceit and lies
realizing having your own individuality avoids like mindedness
you don't have to say you endure and was scare most of the time
this experience help heal suppress parts traded for being a slime
learning things about yourself now has you with sharp sightedness
As requested here is another episode. If this is your first time reading, check out the first one it will make more sense. Let me know if you would like me to continue. Those who are following the tale, thanks!
When I awoke Ricky was fast asleep, being a pop bottle I have no way of keeping my eyes closed. Mind you I'm not complaining, I got to see the most amazing sunrise. I so wanted Ricky to enjoy it as well so I refracted the light and shone it on his eyes. I could tell he was a bit irritated but it had the desired effect, he got out of bed so he could move me. As he walked over to the window I could feel the irritation turn to wonder as he saw the beauty of the sunrise. From that day forward he became a morning person.
Ricky stood there for a while with me held dangling by his side. I no longer needed my glass, I could see clearly through his blue eyes. It was a very nice street and Ricky particularly liked the house across the street. The house had bright white siding and a manicured lawn. There were also planters with all kinds of pretty flowers. The house was owned by an older couple and they didn't have any children. It seemed a rather big house for only two people.
Soon Roy and Teresa were also awake and they all fought to use the one and only bathroom. Mom and Dadio had already left for work, Dadio to cut hair and Mom as a waitress at the Coffee Cup. Their baby sitter's name was Mrs. Burns an older lady that seemed very fond of floral print dresses. She had made her way up the stairs because the kids didn't seem to hear her call them for breakfast. They all ran past her to the dining room table and waited for her to slowly make her way back down the stairs. She may not have been fleet of foot but boy what a great breakfast. Bacon eggs and saugage as well as orange juice. Ricky tried to pour the orange juice into me but got almost as much on the table. Still it was quite a treat for me to enjoy, after all breakfast is the most important meal of the day.
Occasionally, I find myself back in the old neighborhood.
It looks slanted and aseptic-like an abortion clinic.
All of the old trees have been gleaned from the streets
there are the no hedges separating the houses
there are no weeds on the lawns
they look soft and pastel perfect...
Weed killer wasn't in full vogue yet.
I see my old childhood home
it looks better than what I remember
Siding replacing worn shingles
but something is horribly o f f.
If I see somebody come out of my home
I may have to kiss then kill them.
A short distance away trains used to careen down the tracks
my brother hopped on one once and ran away.
He vanished for about three days
then came home looking filthy but refreshed.
When he got back, he never talked about it much
but I knew freedom had been good to him.
He was grounded for a week for his hobo run.
Less than three years later he would never return.
I came home from school one afternoon.
My father slowly walked over toward me
with a look I'd never seen before.
He told me that my puppy slipped under the fence
and sniffed its way onto those train tracks.
He kept the details as aseptic as possible,
like all good fathers tend to do.
That same train that took my brother to freedom
also took my pup to a different flavor of freedom.
For a couple of years after, I'd fire rocks at the train
I felt both powerful and pitiful
like the limestone rocks that bounced off the metal cars
with a yellowish puff.
When the caboose was in site I would retreat
into the shadows of the trees and overgrown hedges
that are no longer there.
Anyway, this will be my last visit to the old neighborhood.
Everything once so familiar and comforting is gone.
There are no more funerals to go to or old friends to see
no oak trees or weeds.
The pink bubble of security burst a long time ago
There's nothing left for me here anymore.
I Leave as a puff of limestone rock
against a metal wall of memory.
Have you seen the movie
you know the one
Woody Allen,
the call girl, son
That’s my favorite
Mango
sauce,
sushi
sashimi
land of the lost
bad Santa, Will Farrell
Italian singers,
Bach,
Beethoven
your little fingers
Try this salad
Thai and sweet
I’m getting fat
what shall we eat
Chianti is good
neath these lights
sangria, and chili
lets cook tonight
have you read this book
War and Peace
I wanted to, someday
but wait for me
we’ll read each chapter
a verse in our bed
have you read
Gabriel Marquez
I’m feeling depressed
in one of my moods
coffee is best
when laying with you
Blender
high speed
look at it go
garlic
oil
oregano
make me a drink
the one that I like
Mexican food sounds good tonight
I love the feel
the look of this bar
shadows
light
particular charm
tell me that joke
tell it to him
the Scottish one
to my Scottish friend
Lets get a boat
fly a kite
go to new york
stay up all night
God is agape
do you know what that means
real Chili, you know
doesn’t have beans
I had a dream
It made me so angry
I don’t like Tabasco
on chicken fried gravy
Damn that’s hot,
I’m starting to cry
quit rubb’n your chin
without you I’d die
after we kiss
how far do we go
your driving is crazy
stay on the road
I think I have loved you
all of my life
my mother was his
birth midwife
chop up the garlic
pour me some wine
I think vinyl siding,
a capitol crime
wood
floors
solid
doors
a big back yard
a book case of course
can’t answer my phone
I’m quiet today
you know how I get
all there or away
buffalo burgers
tawaka and fries
”the best in the world”
ya right, that’s a lie!
But I do like these chips
take a picture with one
cashews from India
or Vietnam
drink your water
I swear that I will
you never told me that water can kill!!
tomatoes, fresh
I’ll pay with my cash
I love you so much I could (censord) !
Form:
While on my daily neighborhood walk, I glanced down to see a flurry of unusual shadows flitting around on the sidewalk. Looking up, I saw several dragonflies moving around in circles. “I never see dragonflies around here”, I thought.
Immediately, I was transported back in time to my childhood home. I remember standing in the side yard next to my neighbor’s fence, watching a stream of dragonflies, with their translucent wings and bodies, hovering above me.
“Why are they there?” I wondered. Peeking over the fence, I saw that our neighbor’s backyard pool was green and slimy. Algae had collected all along the pool’s edges.
“Mommy, Mommy!” I called. “Why does Ruth’s pool look all green and dirty?” Mom looked at me with concern in her eyes. “Ruth has been busy. It’s been hard for her to keep up with things.” she replied.
dragonfly wanders
lost in a maze and confused
needs the narrow path
A few days later, mom baked some oatmeal and chocolate chip cookies, her specialty. “I made an extra batch. Let’s bring some over to Ruth.” she said. As we approached Ruth’s front door, I noticed her overgrown yard and chipped paint on the siding. We knocked and waited a minute or so. Ruth cracked the door open, but did not invite us in. Curious, I was still able to notice the newspapers stacked high in her living room.
Mommy didn’t flinch and smiled warmly at Ruth. “We thought you’d enjoy some cookies, Ruth. I made an extra batch.” “Thank you, Pat.” Ruth quietly answered.
“Can you come over for coffee this Thursday? I’d love to visit with you!” mom kindly added. “I think I can.” Ruth replied with a hopeful glimmer in her eyes.
“Wonderful!” mom enthused.
As we walked back home, mom seemed happy and satisfied. I was happy, too!
sweet love of God
feeding on hope from heaven
nectar of kindness
The house on the hill stood forsaken by time.
The gutters were hanging and covered in grime.
The windows were warped and the siding was peeling,
And spider webs spanned from the floor to the ceiling
The moon overhead had now reached its full height.
It was only a crescent and scarcely gave light.
As my heart quickened, I rose from my chair
For this was the hour when the ‘others’ appear.
When walls wear thin between this and the next,
And ghosts can cross over with eerie effects.
The room became cold as so often it would,
And I wanted to hide but then before I could
A spectral window appeared from the gloom
And soon it enveloped the entire room.
Through it was a vision that ransomed my breath:
A young girl in her bed lying quiet as death.
“Why are you here?” I yelled with surprise
To which she arose and looked deep in my eyes.
Through the veil that divided I thought she looked scared,
But she said nothing and just sat and stared.
Breaking the silence I repeated my query
To which she erupted in violent fury.
She told me to leave, that this wasn’t my place
With an anger and fear that contorted her face.
I reached out to calm her, from my own habit mostly,
But realized with panic that my own arm was ghostly.
Ethereal body, I was spectral and wrong.
She was right; I was the one who didn’t belong.
For all of my wisdom, I had to admit
Dying wasn’t something I thought I’d forget.
But I was the ghoul that was lost out of time.
I looked at the moon as it slipped from its prime.
The girl whispered something I couldn’t hear what,
But the window was fading, my time was soon up.
And as it shut closed like each night it does
I forgot everything and became who I was.
8.21.18
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