Long Styrofoam Poems
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I am tired.
Usually in a “life has sapped itself out”
But that isn’t what this is about.
I. Am. Tired.
Of my stupid styrofoam smile
Squeaking under pressure all the while.
I am tired.
Of being walkedranmoppedraked overthroughon.
And of being treated as dumb spawn or clueless pawn.
I am calm, patient, quiet, KIND.
In the midst of grossness others spew against and on my mind.
However. My still hand does NOT mean
That I don’t find your way of existing obscene.
I may not lift my finger,
But damn does wavering will barely linger.
I am so tired of tulips and fields and eggshells.
I am ready for mortars, more ammo, some bombshells.
I am so tired of being the go-to-friend.
You know I’ll be there in the end.
I am so tired of “can I, may I, if it’s not too much”
After a while, doesn’t tired become the crutch?
Tired, exhausted, drained, and used.
Perhaps from the next I must recuse
Myself not because interests conflicted,
But rather because you don’t deserve a finger lifted.
I am so tired of being my warmth of fiery nice.
I’m so tempted to just let it all go.
Be discompassionate ice.
I didn’t expect to be enlightened
on the 5
passing Dodger Stadium
north-bound, but-
A flatbed load of Styrofoam had spilled
and was dancing on the road
in small bits and huge chunks.
We drove through them
like they were nothing,
bouncing all around
off the windshields
and hoods and sides.
Wisdom flooded through us
radiating an immediate encompassing bond
as we passed this universe
of nothing.
We were, of course,
the spaces between particles,
the answer to physics.
The answer to everything!
The mystery was revealed,
The mirages understood.
There are no barriers.
Only those we put there ourselves.
The sun-glassed man in the flatbed
nodded at me and then
off he went-
the 2 North.
Another big package arrived today!
I opened it up, and to my dismay....
Cardboard and stuffing, and so much more
Styrofoam nuggets all over the floor
There was plastic bubble, and cellophane wrap
It took a broom to clear the trash
I dug around to look inside
All sealed and tight. No big surprise!!
It needs a battery to make it run
But the battery it came with, is dead and done!
Okay...ready again, we'll have some fun
But a broken remote! Shucks! We needed that one!
We'll take a time out....well, that's a bother!
A run to Wal Mart to get another...
Stopped at Starbuck's along the way
Tossed my cup...that's two, today
Bought more stuff...while I was there
Filled six plastic bags... or maybe it's more....
Here's some trash....fourth time today
I'll go back to Wal Mart...where I will pay
For new garbage containers...those giant cans..
'Cause we fill them up, as fast as we can!
I have heard going 'Green'...is the only way !!
Oops , here comes Fed-Ex, more to deliver today!
____________________________________________
I come across a very life like display
(doubtfully claimed to be the work of some
first grader) of every planet and star
in the Milky Way sky. For the solar system
he’s used Styrofoam balls, and each of them
are unique artistic expressions: on Mars,
it seems the sea came to be by a thumb
being pressed on the surface. The array
of color in Jupiter’s eye fill my
own with tears for their beauty, as do Pluto’s
light brown heart and Venus’s orange swirling paint.
But what really gets me is the moon’s faint
outline of a smile that for no reason glows.
“You made this?” I ask; “Believe it.” - His shining reply.
5/9/2017
For Shadow Hamilton’s Night Time Sky Sonnet Contest
(this has a rhyme scheme of: a/b/c/d/d/c/b/a/e/f/g/g/f/e)
Superman's demise is his kryptonite
With the ability to weaken and destroy
But a worse fate exists in this fight
With a greater ability to totally annoy
I'm referring to a whitish nightmare
Often used to package boxes in care
The noise is such a wonderful scare
Loud screeching please don't dare
The very thought puts me into fright
Though masses eat off it in delight
Terrifying noises with no end in sight
Brought too close it will cause a fight
Eliminate this plague I beg you please
It's no more than a screechy disease
Meant to totally annoy in many degrees
My noisy kryptonite for everyone to see
Styrofoam oh do I utterly loathe thee
I wish the entire world would also agree
Horrible noise bringing me to my knees
From you I really want to completely flee
I arrived early today for the appointment made months ago,
And began the interminable wait to see the medico.
When I checked in it was already half-past noon.
The nurse said, "Take a seat and we'll be with you soon!"
The room was full of people in every kind of condition.
I thought, "Lord! Have mercy! Deliver me from this perdition!
While waiting I'll surely contract a contagious disease I fear,
And be much worse off than when I arrived in here!"
I thumbed through time-worn magazines dating from nineteen fifty-three,
And stared with glazed eyes at unctuous soap operas on TV.
Swallowed stale coffee by the liter from a styrofoam cup,
Not so patiently waiting for my name to be called up!
I tried to snooze but that soon became a sad delusion,
With rowdy kids and constant babble - just too much confusion.
The little old lady next to me told of her every pain and ache,
As I lent a compassionate ear, striving to stay awake!
I was almost tempted to order in a scrumptious pizza pie.
My stomach was growling and suppertime was drawing nigh.
When at last the nurse in all her puffery before me did loom,
And finally ushered me into the harried doctor's examining room!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
I arrived early for the appointment I had made many months ago,
And began the interminable wait to consult with the medico!
When I checked in, it was already half-past noon.
Nursey said, "Take a seat and we'll be with you soon!"
The room was filled with people in every kind of condition!
I mused, "Lord, have mercy! Deliver me from this perdition!
While waiting I'll surely contract a dreadful disease, I fear
And be so much worse off than when I arrived in here!"
I thumbed through dog-eared magazines dating from 1953,
And stared with glazed eyes at unctuous soap operas on TV.
Swallowed stale coffee by the liter from a Styrofoam cup,
Waiting impatiently for my name to be called up!
I tried to snooze but that soon became a sad delusion,,
With bawling kids and inane babble - just too much confusion!
The little old lady next to me told of her every pain and ache,
As I lent a compassionate ear, striving to stay awake!
I was tempted to order a scrumptious Papa John's pizza pie,
Since my stomach was growling and supper time was drawing nigh!
At last Hildebrun, the nurse, in all her puffery before me did loom,
And finally ushered me into the harried doctor's examining room!
Robert L. Hinshaw CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
1
Rain for weeks
bruised October.
The burden of bitter
air spewed from the
drain of my swollen yard.
Already the birds had turned
to pirates.
I saw the night let
a blind rag wing dive
from a tree into the rapids
of a sidewalk,
rolling, crumbling like a
mad leaf.
2
The afternoon had cleared
and isolated my yard in
cold light.
Wet death had made no
ceremony for the rigid
squirrel.
Murky death had stolen
its eyes.
Hard death had robbed
the squirrel. I rolled
the item in newspaper.
Thoughtless death into
the trash bag
with Styrofoam and Reynolds Wrap.
3
Living wavered
on a matchstick.
On an evening some
flickering things were
extinguished.
Two men sitting on a stoop
Day dawning as the rush of cars drive by
Drinking coffee from Styrofoam cups
One old, one young, they discuss the weather
Air already warm before the sun has even risen
Not a cloud in the sky to promise rain
Old woman pushing a shopping cart passed the men
Old man nods his head as she shuffles by
All her belongings crammed into black garbage bags
Girl in scrubs waiting at the corner bus stop
Boy in jeans, backpack hangs off one shoulder
Looks about his neighborhood with hooded eyes
Yesterday’s newspaper lays abandoned on the bench
Headlines read Economy in Constant Decline
No change to the everyday existence in the inner city
The city is dotted in little wooded sanctuaries. One on the corner of Forsyth and Luckie, a pair of twins on Hill St. If you’re lucky sometimes you can glimpse a group of four or more. I know of one but that’s a well kept secret, you’ll have to find it on your own.
I’m not entirely sure who planted these little arbor islands. I would imagine the people who paved gray runways and built buildings of burnt brick and spotted marble placed a few in a moment of guilt, built up stone by stone until the weight became too heavy to bear. So they brought a few strong trees back into the concrete mire.
You have to admire their wooden resolution though, they persevere in their 4x4 plots of land filled with intractable mulch, dry, hard dirt and a layer of plastic and styrofoam topsoil. Their branches scrape the second story windows, their emaciated fingers attempt to push through grout and stone. They reach with eager, upturned palms for open air.
I was admiring the white, spring blooms today when men came with silver spears and saw-tooth blades to trim the branches on DeKalb. The tree’s wooden fingers severed at the joints, veins bleeding sap onto the once clean blades. As the final limb fell, time cut back 6 months, I couldn’t help but laugh.