Long Usual Poems
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Kim (one of my BFF) brightened with inspiration, “Oooo! Send him a sexy pic!”
“I’m NOT going to sext a guy out of the BLUE,” I grumbled, indignantly.
Kim turned to her phone, “No, No, of COURSE not.” She said as she texted.
“Come on” she said, as she pulled me off my chair and out the door. We raced over, on foot, to my friend Bili’s house (two houses away). We entered without knocking (as usual) and ran upstairs.
Bili lay on her stomach on her unmade bed, fiddling with her phone, ankles up and crossed but she twisted up to attention when we came in.
“What should we do first?” She said, as if there were a million things to do.
They set upon me and had my regular clothes off in a heartbeat. Like all makeovers, this had a prelapsarian purity - the ritual stripping down to blankness before rebuilding.
They quickly went through about half of Bili’s closet - selecting just the right combination of trashy and classy clothes designed to seduce.
They finally settled on a black slip under an ivory peignoir, stockings with garters and black strappy heels.
Kim twisted my hair up into a loose “Gibson Girl.”
“Hold still,” Bili said, as she grasped my chin and expertly blended red, gold and black glittery eyeshadows followed by lip liner and gloss. “This is just a quickie job,” she reminded me.
I stared at this strange version of myself in the vanity.
Kim frowned and looking around, she spread a pink scarf over the desk light to give the room a rosy glow. They went into studio mode - posing me in various ways from coquettish to bored lounging - suggesting expressions and taking endless pictures with my phone.
Finally, they were satisfied and handed me my phone.
“Shall we go through them?” Bili asked
“Naah,” I said, “I’ll go through ‘em and pick one - or two.”
Later, at home, I looked through them - I looked SO different - and I had to admit - sexy even. But was that ME? I cringed, what if my mom saw these trashy, Kardashian-like photos somewhere?
I never sent them. I thought I’d have to explain it to my girls.
“HA!” They laughed, “We KNEW you’d never use ‘em” Bili said, as Kim shook her head “Nope.”
“It was fun though!” We all agreed.
.
.
.
NOTE: This is a pre-pandemic story from August 2019. I was 15 - the idea wasn’t to seduce this guy, it was to get his interest so he would ask me out . =]
ONCE UPON A TIME
I felt bold, placing an Ad in New York's Village Voice; see
I needed a friend, a guide, a conscientious lover of my choice
But as I read and read, one unusual two page letter
Stated that they'd be my slave, and loyal house sitter
That was start and end of that; but meanwhile,
I met a lonely young woman wanting to commit suicide
I showed her warmth, serenity, and rest; then I went to work
Leaving her with view of Hudson River, and lush trees in the park
That summer, I introduced her to her very own cozy space
Next door. Lo and behold, she found and looked like grace
One afternoon, as I hurried to fetch my usual subway train
This once lonely girl stopped to model her gold engagement ring
She stood hand in hand, with a spectacled gentleman I'd seen, so
I simply smiled, said farewell, and played back tapes of old scenes.
*
When the pigeons of peace refuse to fly
It was supposed to be a land
Of peace
Were all is enough for every soul
But not for the greed of men
They dressed in pure white
From their head to their toe
Pretending they stand for peace
Deceiving the crowd
On a peace day
They thought they are wise
As usual
But they were caught unawares
By the birds of peace
When the pigeons of peace refuse to fly
It was supposed to be a continent
Of peace
Yet the sons of men turn our
Peaceful land to a hell
Of a place
Am sure most of the world
Has had how dangerous Africa is
Have you ever wonder why
Have you ever try to research
Were this badness came from
I tell you certainly not from
The people yes not from
The innocent common people
And the prove was why
On the hands of our leaders
At the peace day ceremony in Nigeria
The pigeons of peace refuse to fly
As they opened an old photo album…taking time out to remember when…
“Oh my goodness!” She gasped. “I was so much younger then.”
“I was so much prettier in these photos and I’d sure like to know…
in all the years we’ve been together…where did my beauty go?”
“Oh, I beg do differ.” He said with a smile. “This beauty you are talking about…has never flowed from outward in…it flows from inward out.”
“The beauty you see in these old photos still, today, keeps me mesmerized…
It radiates from within your heart…it is reflected in your eyes.”
“What makes you beautiful today is something time can never destroy…
It’s the way you live each moment…it’s how you fill your life with joy.”
“I agree you’re not as pretty as you were in these photos on display…but that’s only because you become a little prettier…a little more beautiful every day.”
“So, as we look at these old photos…old picture of you along the way…remember you were only younger then…your much more beautiful today.”
“And when I fall asleep tonight, as usual, I can’t wait to see…
when I wake up tomorrow…how much more beautiful you’ll be.”
So many stars overhead.
The cold evening air gives
a focussed clarity to each speck
of light and a little of the chill
from space seems
to trickle down to earth
and settle this night.
Thoughts reach up as if
to grasp some meaning encoded
there in the morse of light,
a message perhaps left by a hand
but there is only a silence
on which the cosmos writes
its usual chatter,
the tortured cries from dying stars,
groans from galaxies
being torn apart,
a catalog of death and doom
and there caught on a web strung
between two trees, the smothered
screams from a half eaten moon.
When I mention my morning meditation practice,
many respond with wishes and hopes
they could
would
should discipline themselves
to also join in to this practice
practice
praxis
until fragmented uncommunicative ego/ecosystems
finally get life resiliently realistically right
more than ego-narcissistically wrong.
But this,
I ego-think and eco-feel,
reverses what is a more centrally profound point
of ZeroZone cosmic-organic view.
Everyday life is already our active meditation
which we Win/Lose unpractice,
Business As Usual LoseLose dis-practice
praxis
until we hope to get us egoWin-ecoWin
interdependently healthy right
more than pathologically diseased wrong.
Oh my painful friend, Here you come again,
Like a broken record, that we are going to dance to again,
What would I do without you dragging me down,
What would my life be like without a constant breakdown,
Would I have achieved all my goals and dreams,
I'd be living in a state of utopia it seems,
Full of happiness, health and glowing beams,
Would I have been successful would I have won,
How i like to wonder what women I'd of become,
Yet here you are again my old faithful pain friend,
Shall we dance on the floor just once more the usual trend,
Please tell me how long do you plan to stay around,
How long must you drag me along this gravel ground,
I'm listening, you have my full attention of course,
Its impossible to ignore you, when you hit me full force,
As I curl up in a tight ball,
Trapped by you friend your tight thrall,
Will you haunt me forevermore,
Hanging in the shadows haunting evermore,
Like a serpent waiting lurking but ready to strike,
Just a single venemous bite you dont no pain alike,
Each of your visits renders me immobile,
But my screams can be heard for a mile,
I sound like I'm dying and I wish I would,
I crave relief from you my chronic companion for good!!!!
A Game Of Darts
Cigar smoke and darts swirl in the green dim glow
Red centered dot moving on the bar wall
Whiskey surreal fog hovers
Covers mistakes and age
Curse the target board and makers!
Old man curls the mustache for luck
Misses the mark while polishing off a draft
Gasps, head swimming, he tries again
In the cruel dungeon drinking hole
Saloon is guilty as usual for this misery
He walks home disgruntled
Kept straight by a crooked stick
Guided by anger
A whiskered figure grumbles; it’s only a game
Another lost soul and saloon loser
Five dollars is not the end of the world you know
Popular Mozart melodies are playing on a low loop.
Five people tense as a clinic nurse
calls us in or leaves us hanging.
I know the drill,
she’ll lead me reluctantly to the scales,
the usual sighs of ritual humiliation;
“Are you 6 foot” she inquires
looking at the chart skeptically.
I don’t tell her that for the last 10 years
I have been shrinking while my bull neck
sinks lower, torpedoed by a laptop navy.
In the Doctors examination room
I slump worry and hum.
I know I will be there for a while,
long enough for me to scribble this poem down
in a dollar store notepad.
Back home I will spell-check every other word -
my mind was on a lump in my gullet, but it’s okay,
after much examination
the doctor declared that I have a bone in my throat
unknown to medical science;
at first she thought it might be a chicken bone
but it waggles only when I talk
and spins when I write.
Apparently there are strings attached to it,
something is pulling at that little bone.
When x-rayed it dances a jig
as if to entertain.
I’m still waiting for a second opinion
though I must admit I am enjoying
being the unidentified voice
of my muses little finger.
Furtive, I would slip away
any poor excuse
would do, make my way
across the lawn
into building twenty-two
Secretive and circuitous
I took an odd and winding
route... While bustling
they had no time
to wonder what
I was about
Far removed from
fluorescent gleam
conveyor belts and
machinery-
a soft-lit, silent
posh retreat
damask-lined walls
with greenery
Oddly placed
within the building
inconvenient
(so they said)
a glorious refuge
for an introvert
a quiet space to
clear my head
Oh, the job had
the usual “benefits”
health, vision, and 401K
and that was all just
fine and dandy
great and A-okay...
We even had
our own mini fridge
to store our food
as bitter drama
had ensued over
brown-bag bandits
(in days past)
We even had our very own
stereo to blast
And the HR lady
gave me the run-down
my first day
all the benefits
and perks
but I must say...
she left one out-
No doubt, the loveliest
perk of all
was that elegant
public restroom
in PR, (so fancy
without stalls)
hands-down the very best
job “benefit” of all!
___
Memories of my old job... where, evidently, a fancy restroom was the highlight of my career! ;D