Sold on a cheapskate cheesing.
Cupcaked' by a cheesecake reasoning.
Kids, plenty for the
Cakewalk.
Kids, plenty to play
Hopscotch.
Kids, plenty of energy goes
Non-stop.
Disparaging remarks marked up by the
Loudmouth loosened by fool-proof
Foul Alchohol percentages.
It's far too soon to start with those
Remarks.
Gliding by.
Hiding behind our
Rollercoaters' ropes.
Ready to Ride,
Side by Side,
Since this high.
Goodbye.
Razor-sharp wit halved the delicate patience.
Good times vanish, in wood varnish.
Drive-by relief roaming without induction.
Categories:
marked up, absence, first love, girl,
Form: Free verse
If you don’t like the weather
wait five minutes and it will change.
A pitcher has pitched a shutout—
he is a hero.
You can bet
he’s talked about everywhere.
Somewhere something is on sale—
it was marked up the first day.
A song in the background rocks
but it is lost in haste.
A stitch in time saves nine
but old blue jeans are thrown away.
People say take care
and disappear.
A man in a bar nurses his drink
half-empty or half-full.
Categories:
marked up, allegory, business, extended metaphor,
Form: Free verse
The poems I never wrote are exquisite
Deep clear pools that reflect and reveal their readers
Nuanced and subtle, full of symbols and hidden meaning
Peeling back new layers upon each return
The poems I never wrote are bestsellers
Attenborough voiceovers and roadhouse storytellers
On bedside tables, dog-eared and marked up
The subject of disagreements over coffee house scones
The poems I never wrote are a perfect sigh
Lyrical, rolling off the tongue, effortless as breathing
Resolved with delight on the final line
Lacking nothing, possessed of no excess
The poems I never wrote are an enigma
An unanswered question desirous of much
A doorway into a new world fraught with possibility
Mysterious and unresolved, yet satisfyingly so
This is not one of those
—————
Written on 10/06/022
Categories:
marked up, imagination, writing,
Form: Free verse
It was easy to admire such a pleasant mirage,
Her tasteful arrangement of complimentary tones,
With forms chasing functions on comfortable fabric,
To be smoothed with businesslike fingers
In total awareness of having my full attention.
And when we rehearsed stage kisses
In that discrete corner of the ensemble room,
The performance was convincing, if insincere.
And though we did refresh ourselves with many an encore,
Her heart remained nestled safely behind the fourth wall,
From the self-conscious shelter of which
She bartered for a better way of life.
I could feel the cost of my investment being marked up.
It’s what they call a value added tax,
A slick embezzlement passed on to the consumer
To cover the cost of doing business.
In the end, she proved to be less reliable than death and taxes.
She resented the implication when I called it a vig,
But in the final act, what she required of me
Wasn’t nothing but the same damn thing.
Categories:
marked up, allegory, relationship,
Form: Dramatic Verse
Kleenexes
Clorox wipes
A roll of tape
Kitty cat eyes on a pink pencil box
red apple peeks out behind yellow thermos
hand sanitizer
unused pencil sharpener because I forgot I had one
three folders with lesson plans
a marked up notebook
laptop computer
stapler
my desk is on fire with usefulness today
Categories:
marked up, work,
Form: List
Trying to understand
why you marked up your body
—I stared at the ink
The memory of your open promise
still inside of me
—unfulfilled
Retracing that promised memory
with new symbols
—stained forever
You colored in the empty spaces
I was unable
—or unwilling to see
(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2016)
Categories:
marked up, symbolism,
Form: Free verse
There is beauty in these marked up hands. Once we loved now we stand across from one another not knowing where to stop. The love we once had now is lost. I look at you a complete stranger I worry once more am i in danger of falling for your tricks once again. But then I remember the beauty in the marked up hands, hands that held me hands that fed me hands that made me the man I'm supposed to be. There may be beauty in the marked up hands but the love that we once had is now a shadow in the background of this stand off holding on to twine of our souls. I look back towards you and realize there is no longer beauty within your marked up hands. Only hatred, only anger, only pain and displeasure. Your hands may be marked for life but your heart has changed old man. I fear for the day I truly lose you without the realization that you have already gone.
Categories:
marked up, 12th grade, abuse, deep,
Form: Epitaph
Welcome KMart shoppers blares through the air as a mosh pit of greedy Holiday buggers hurl themselves through the glass and aluminum doors—Obese bodies press (children jammed between white-bread). Trolls in strollers screech in pain and howls of Christ mask laughter. The shopper's feet bombard the glossy, line-oh-lea-ummm floors as the overwrought, over-privileged, truffle sniffers, poke through the hundred and fifty percent marked-up—mark-downs, for things they already own in triplicate.
canned music
jiggle bells the room:
torn wrapping paper
Categories:
marked up, holiday,
Form: Haibun
It seems like only yesterday
My home was filled with activity,
Laughter, quarreling and lots of love.
Just as life should be.
I look around and see yesteryears
Of scuffed floors and marked up walls,
Telling a story of lives being lived.
My children's ebbs and flows of life-
Dirty faces, begging to be chased,
Sticky fingers, grass stained knees,
Floor picnics on rainy days,
Wiping tears and snotty noses,
Breaking up many small feuds,
And with my arms stretched out wide,
I'd show them how I love them more.
Dare I say, kids grow up way too fast.
Before you know it they've left the nest.
But inside their hearts where love should grow,
They will make not just a house, but a home.
For Leonora Galinta's contest, 'A Home'
Categories:
marked up, family, home, love,
Form: Free verse
On a market you can see the people run.
The life itself sells here knowing all.
The paleness gets a tan under the Sun.
The smartness is wearing out the sole.
And to and fro here goes a branded flesh,
and risqué tongues suspended scurry about.
It was the want-hag that swept the trash,
With a dashing broom uproar swirls around.
And cheeky grated balls are looking at my eyes.
A spicy smell is near me. It's marked up.
It's teasing nose of mine – my sense is right
to all the rest of senses on that sharpened.
And motley clothes the fruit-green`s putting on.
For hungry women it's a king of strip-tease.
A kind of honey is brought by a brazen drone.
It is the tawdry world of alien prestige.
Persistent hubbub gets my ears on an` on.
Soon goods are thrown by plenty into mess.
By feet as a pair of compasses a horizon's drawn
to ancient Middle East through wild Wild West.
Categories:
marked up, social
Form: Rhyme