activists lash out
reactionaries glower
~ tectonic plate shift
Categories:
reruns, change, summer, violence,
Form: Senryu
(a poem in Senryus)
Let’s rerun the play,
take up strings, so the puppets
can start fresh their dance.
Summon the old ghosts—
Shakespeare’s doomed heroes
—pronounce them reborn.
Recall the actors,
lead horses from their pastures,
raise the curtains.
Pay Shylock his pound
of flesh, give Richard his horse,
let Viola love anew.
Old, ever-hallowed
villainy, once banished,
has taken new stage.
Human suffering,
live—don’t fret, you won’t miss it
—it’ll come to you.
.
.
Songs for this:
End of the innocence by Don Henley
The Perfect Idiot by Fievel Is Glauque
.
.
Songs for this:
End of the innocence by Don Henley
The Perfect Idiot by Fievel Is Glauque
Categories:
reruns, addiction, analogy, anxiety, celebrity,
Form: Free verse
bright orange explosion waking the mind
brings one back to a more dangerous time
haunted gaunt face of starving, frightened child
the chilling results of egos gone wild
thick black smoke of a village on fire
outcomes from authoritarian ire
now chaos surrounds with nowhere to run
but a sociopath's version of fun
decay and mayhem is all that there be
not with eyes but mind at times forced to see
shivering tremors brought on by a dream
fear not the result of what may be seen
bad behavior taken to nth degree
making remembrance the reality
Categories:
reruns, conflict, memory, perspective, remember,
Form: Sonnet
My mind is playing reruns of every stupid thing I’ve said and done
It’s all in h d with surround sound for an audience of one
It’s on repeat all day long and sometimes through the night
Just so that I don’t forget those times when I didn’t get it right
That time I got your name wrong or fell flat upon my face
That I talk to little or too much,always using the wrong pace
It’s a close up on my embarrassment, spot light on my imperfections
Slow mo through my worst mistakes, never meeting your expectations
My disaster movie is now showing in the cinema in my head
It won’t ever win an Oscar more like a balloon made out of lead
Categories:
reruns, anxiety,
Form: Rhyme
Though the credits are long past being done
We refuse to let our story end
The writers have become erratic
The plot a three time rerun
I read a scene that I have played
It’s now your part
I sit silently and watch
Your character has not rehearsed
You are broken and bloody
Simultaneously reaching out for help
While lunging for the kill
Categories:
reruns, anger, relationship,
Form: Free verse
Pine needle ashes in reruns
Each breath hurts,
in my chest and in my mind
Such a poor example of life,
this heaving flesh,
up and down, corrugated movements inside my shirt,
not even a consistent rhythm
You see it mirrors my heart (a broken metronome)
in silent convulsions
that no one sees
and I become the fool, the giggles from the back row,
that guy picking his nose in the car
thinking he is invisible,
like that cloud on the horizon
attempting to sneak past the sunset
without being noticed…bright florescent pink
But I have always been this fool,
I fall, I get up only to fall again…
you would think I would have learned by now
My fingers hurt as
they move about the keys
in interrupted design patterns
finding small lettered squares (shapes)
pushing up, harder than I push down,
but not because of the action…
it is the words, all of these words
thoughts, ideas, dreams, just as a
Christmas tree in a fireplace,
up in smoke…though slower, more painful…
pine needle ashes in reruns, always reruns
**Just a poem, not a state of mind. :)
Categories:
reruns, heartbreak, loneliness,
Form: Free verse
ghosts of yesterday
promenade across my screen,
tapping in the dark...
Fred twirls Ginger once again
where the music has no end
Categories:
reruns, nostalgia
Form: Tanka