.
'tweren't her white dress shirt
but 'twere hern bare feet
frolick'n in the meadow
'twere mine shirt
likewise mine 2duke's digits
carry'n her sandalz
and
smallclothez
i wore my shirt to bed
last eve
La Cavalera Catrina 1910-1930:
An etching by cartoonist and lithographer, José Guadalupe Posada
Of a Garbancera, elegant skull, an upper-class woman of the Porfiriata
Has become a character icon of the Mexican “Día de Los Muertos”
A celebration of life in which it is much believed or “muy fuertos”
That the spirits of the dead are to return to their home
with relatives on these two days to spend time, it’s well known
Writing “calaveritas” which are short, humorous poems shared
With family and friends who show how much they cared
About a living person, how they died, then published to publicize
In magazines and newspapers, mostly celebrities and politicians to satirize
There is art that is added to the light-heartedness of the occasions
Skeletons drinking, dancing, and celebrating, depicted in humorous situations
Sugar skulls or calaveras made as edible or decorative skulls for the day
Another tradition, they are baked from either sugar called Alfeñiques or clay
It is custom to see sugar skull makeup on children, adults in array
to represent departed souls for Day of the Dead and All Souls Day
if you own your feet
they will take you to the greater theme park
but we are sad to see the old self go
and cling to the labors that bring us here
as though survival there was assured
through perpetual alertness
which meant that to change is to be mystified
there is a place in your head
where symbols just don't matter
and you don't need to predict
what will happen next
yet your measurements occur without deformity
every human's hope is to die laughing
yes let's satirize death
in a grand existential caricature
a mockery of the stepped on wristwatch
bottom line happy to be anywhere
running from the object of focus
knowing what it is to be a lesser thing
scribbling schematics on the walls of Paradise
which map the kaleidoscope of desire
with a breathless greeting
from the horse that pulls your cart
so let's ride a swing together sometime
and comfort us with a freezer full of deer meat
instead of killing ourselves to prove a really stupid point
bicycle messengered to Main St.
otherwise the odds are slender
Beastly burdens of life
Millstones round my neck
Not that I malign my wife
For in my eyes beastly burdens of life emulate a sneaking snake
Writhing on the hard road
Through life I travel
On my head perching an abnormal load
Of which I never cease to marvel
Although pressure my neck oppresses
Enjoying a free ride
As twinges of pain pressure stresses
With unabashed pride
Driven to extremes
That hurt, hurt and hurt
So sharply they satirize dames
To whom sweet nothings I blurt
Not that to me it matters or flatters
Whether dames don long or short
In gild letters that decry fetters
As they snort
Raising my ire
With candour
Warmed on a cold night by the fire
Fanned by the parallax of pain odour
A neurotransmitter smells
Telling me I’m lying
When burden spells and scales
Confirm I’m sighing and flying
Despite averse appearances
That on the grapevine seem to glorify and aggrandize gossip
Inferences on my circumstances
Which in a vacuum peep, weep and fall asleep.
the softness of your fingertips caress teats
the sensual expression of your wanton glances
the shyness of my smile titillates satirize
the meeting of minds avows - passion endeavors
________________________________________|
PENNED ON JULY 24, 2014!
Watch out for another
poem tittled 'polithiefcian
are here again' the poem
that satirize how our
political god-fathers/
leaders loot our public
funds in to their private
account(s). Latest
tomorrow
Sip that blood .. fill thy melancholic heart
bandage my deep wounds then dig me a grave
may my life begin if I shall depart
for the mortuary life had me enslaved
and my conscious mind cursed his sanity
scattered am I among those frosty dreams
to proceed my road to eternity
and satirize the life I won't redeem
so tolerate my sin .. accept my wrath
for in this perfect world am incomplete
survived by death .. anxious for my last breath
drift in grief as I flip my final sheet
thus I rot shrouded by desperation
till I'm blessed with thy brutal salvation
May I write, if you don't mind please?
It seems there's much I long to say,
Haul up the bucket of ideas from my deep wishing well
That reaches Heaven as well as Hell.
Break loose the constraints from the walls,
Chase all the forms down endless halls,
Catch the strange and toothless one And bring it out into the sun,
Hold down the letter and add it's parts until the work is done.
I love to write, what's wrong with that?
In the sound of words and rhythms flowing
I find what seems to me worth showing,
Real or not, cool or hot, whether thin or whether fat.
So I will write, as I do today, again tomorrow, read or unread,
We who write dress up thoughts as leaves adorn the trees,
Planting seeds in minds and hearts as we please,
Ascertaining and dispensing hope instead of dread.
If we choose to rhyme we may, but if not we may not,
We can pun just for fun or tantalize with care,
Immortalize or satirize, do as much as we may dare.
For it is a good thing to write now while still above the family plot.
Been around the world and still can't see why;
finding answers for problems we create.
Hello,
we gloat.
We criticize and satirize;
see they're eyes?
Finding answers for problems we create.
Spread the ideas we were brought up to believe.
Spread our ideas but no one cares to listen;
maybe force was a bad decision.
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