Is insidious
the color of honey
adds texture to
my thoughts of you
all my glossy
intentions
drip with true
viscosity
I am weighed down
by the carpet-heavy
deigns of future plans
Time to realign
Start dinner
Listening to the mridanga's beat,
the kartal's clappings
rows of cars by the roadside -
invitees poised to enter the mandop
to offer money to the palla
and front row guests.
Now a days,
elaborate rituals in religious ceremonies
introduced by the rich and corrupt
not found in our culture and tradition.
Fear stirs deep
in my unhabituated mind.
These are places of strut,
where true grace is left behind -
a stage for wealth,
for pride and display:
no meaning, no beauty,
but hollow show that grips simple hearts.
The poor ape the rich,
sell land or borrow deep,
strangled by debt's coil they can't leap.
What rises today ?
No portrait pure and right,
but dwindling immoral society's blight.
A strut filled society,
where the native soul lies buried,
overthrown.
A young man would strut round the office block
Thinking he was god's gift, come from fine stock
But his hip wiggle
Made the girls giggle
If only he'd known how the staff would mock.
Plainly seeking some office romances
But the fool of a man spoilt his chances
At an office do
He was stuck like glue
To the boss's wife, making wild advances.
There and then the idiot got the sack
Ordered to buzz off and step the road Jack
He went in a huff
Forgetting to strut
When told to send his last pay packet back.
On the beach, a cute girl I passed by
I decided I must catch her eye
I tripped on a rock
Went face down in shock
And I wished I could curl up and die
Dawn rooster's crowing
red and gold cock of the walk
Flecked stars are fleeing.
Pink sky alarms are sounding
as stealthy night goes, creeping.
Perched at verge of day
is cock of the crystal clock.
Blooms are anywhere
on morning of fading moon,
when rouge sun frolics with June.
Here comes the expert at the catwalk strut
His tail is swishing along with his big butt
He is wearing a coat designed by Alexander McQueen
Don’t make fun of his sashaying because that is so mean
Be who you regally are,it might make people faint!
No need to match them,with social grease paint.
Each us are so superbly crafted,just look around.
Colors,hair types,body shapes,all do abound.
For everyone of us,at times life can be so tough.
Now that is the opportune time to strut your stuff!
“Dive for your dreams,” e.e.Cummings has said.
It’s time to be you, not hide under your bed.
We only have so much time-on this earth.
Yes, you can be you, with joy and endless mirth.
6/28/2023
The chicks strutted their Easter bonnets all over the barnyard.
Their mother the hen was proud; she loved every second.
Their father did not claim them, they were so puffed up.
Everyone had an opinion.
Some good, some bad.
Too confident. Too cocky. Too self-assured.
These were the observations of the male chicks.
Exciting! Pretty! Lovely! Marvelous! Wonderful!
This was the oldest hen’s observation.
Let’s call her Grandma.
Hey there, little Buddha,
Let me join your Mistick Krewe.
Got my jazz hand clapping.
Gonna drop the other shoe.
I strut my yo-yo yoga every doo-da day.
It get me so-so-sober in a drunken way.
Hey there, little Buddha,
Voodoo me some déjà vu.
Those saints are marching in again;
Another Bourbon Street debut.
Hey there, little Buddha,
Save me from my karma’s wrath.
Calculate my blessings;
Maybe you can do the math.
So many numb-numb-numbers,
Couldn’t feel my way.
To get me near Nirvana,
Need a CPA.
Hey there little Buddha,
Lead me down the garden path.
Those saints are here to party, boy.
This Mardi Gras make ‘em laugh.
Hey there, little Buddha,
Send your children out to play.
Pranayama mama,
Laissez les bons temps rouler.
I'll chant my man-oh-mantra
Till my eardrums ache
And clear my cha-cha chakras
With a plumber’s snake.
Hey there little Buddha,
Second line come first today.
Those saints will set your flag on fire.
Jockomo feena nay.
feet marching to the heavens
where dreams and martyrs dwell
where freedom plays its fife
in the rhythm of darkness
chains and whips begone
rituals of rope and poplar trees as well
these cudgels are no longer my legacy
on shoulders of the past
this heir who knows
how I counter could be my lot
could be my hell
Come on baby, don't be shy!
Let's hit that dance floor now.
Yes, you and I.
No inhibitions now,let the patrons
stare.
At my flowing,long red hair and you,
divinely debonair.
Come on baby, don't be shy!
We are doing our very own
Cookie Strut!
My, oh my, oh my!
January 15, 2020
Strut
Just by the way I strut
You know I haven’t walked
A mile away from my hut
I’ve got life
But not an ounce
Of hope in my heart
All the days are the same
Some stare me dead in the eyes
But I, too
Am created in the image of God
Others look the other way
As if I don’t exist
Some are pacing the streets
Going to their whereabouts
Others walking slowly looking for trouble
Looking to pickpocket
Drawing guns, knives or swords
Don’t ever come around here
Be brave
Don’t show your face
Peel my eyes open
I live to see another day
Music plays with every step I take
Marckincia Jean
Free verse
12/20/19
It's easy to be in kind
cruelling self to denial.
Harder to step up, unboxed.
But why must you beg, aplogise
for stuffing your ego with struts,
standing up, off your knees;
self supported, doing your own stuff.
mountains, poetry,
HAIKU
Mountains show their faces
In all the four directions
To where you stand watch!
On Halloween night I will strut
Dressed like Jabba the Hut
Many sweets I will eat
As it is trick or treat
And double the size of my butt
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