One slow motion jagged tear
found me after you left me here.
Its wetness still sits upon my face
as I stare at absolutely no place.
What I do live and what I dream
and all sundries fitting in between,
now struggle in a frenzied dance
passing thru, in and out, this circumstance.
My brain is mush circling a clueless groove.
Surely, I need an enlightened next move.
Calm failed to enter when you shut the door,
and life as I knew it quit being anymore.
I simply cannot find my identity.
Maybe it left with you and my clarity.
I seek to ease a primal urge to shout
at frenzied thoughts dashing about.
Perhaps I knew years had grown weeds
while I prayed for fertilized love seeds.
Perhaps I knew time long held this bleed
while I prayed true love would succeed.
Once a thriving town now
dust devils
curl and tumble on the
broken pavement, along
with swirling leaves and
bits of paper
empty storefront windows
once FILLED with clothes,
pastries groceries sundries,
stare at the desolate scene
through shattered glass
deserted streets,
bereft
of crowds of people,
only an occasional fox,
chittering squirrel or bird
interacting with the
constant wind…..
Fry up some peeled potatoes
Sliced length wide
Mixed 1/4 cup of
Chopped drained spinach
Mix with creamcheese
olive oil
Onion
Garlic
Nutmeg
3 tablespoons of feta
4 tablespoons of
Smoked swiss
3 tablespoons of
Chopped sundries
Tomatoes
Layer between potatoes
Stack three high
Mix
6 tablespoons of sourcream
1 tablespoons of dill
3 tablespoons of melted butter
1 dash of Tabasco
2 whisked eggyolks ( over steam)
Lemon juice
1 tablespoon of fishstock
Eight poached eggs
20 slices of
Serrano ham
Arrange and serve with sourcream
Topping over the potatoes
Shadows fill the alley, where they lie in wait
To buy and sell sundries of a wicked kind
needles injected, gun shots fired, witnessed in
flashing neon lights
I equate them to sewer rats, crawling 'round
whose sinister stories would make me shudder
counting their number by red cigarette glows
blurred in veils of smoke
Another cheap wine bottle smashed to the ground
Stiletto heels needing to trade for a fix
Money earned turning tricks; spent on ecstasy
eyes in Zombie mode
I should board my window so I cannot see
the bowels of a city, dark and defiled
Such tragedy permeates the air until
street lamps dim at dawn
Pick-A-Title Vol 19 - 4 Sapphic Stanzas
Title Chosen: A Dark Underbelly
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh
Posted on July 11th, 2020
Oh, how our world has changed!
Our days are rearranged-
this quarantine exchanged
for freedom- so deranged.
How long- we do not know;
the peak will come to show
a curve- and then plateau-
at that, our hope may grow.
Oh, beautiful, spring days-
we're missing your bright blaze;
forsythia's gold sprays
and daffodil displays!
Our children rule us now-
to leave home, disallow.
They bring sundries and chow-
six feet apart allow.
If this could be a dream
a nightmare's ghoulish scheme,
we'd sure wake up agleam-
with joy, we'd dance and scream.
But, no- this nightmare's true;
together, we'll pull through.
But- many perished too!
We, quarantined, make do.
April 6, 2020
Premiere Contest: One On The Chin
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
Shall we continue the praise of the moon?
Or of the monk and the nun?
Shall our glottis be lean on the herbs?
Or on the slacken nerves?
Shall our words be drained on mountains?
Or our inks on the beauty of fountains?
Shall our eyes be seduced by the fir trees?
Or by the bewitchment of the daffodils?
Shall the oceans seat on our poetry?
Or the deserts be our sundries?
Shall our loved be penned for our pets?
Or on the beauty of the vets?
Shall our praises ring only in the creatures' ear?
At YHWH's-the creator- expense?.
17:11:25:18:53
When night markets begin to come alive;
Kaleidoscope of light glitters the street
As sundries pile, welcoming a throng’s dive
Where voices shrill to haggle for fine treat:
And cacophony rasps like a foghorn
When perpetual hysteria rises
Through bargains from outfits , gems, to sweet corn
In spiraled race, women bark off prices.
While chaotic noise drums twisted chatter
Taxis, large vans honk … causing wild bedlam
Along with merchants who join guests’ tattler
On an evening of riotous wham!
Above red lanterns , metro guards scurry,
Pursuing crooks in frays through lanes, hollow …
Yet, this apocalypse does not worry
Most buyers chasing for wares they follow.
John Hamilton’s Eight Word Challenge-4
9/24/2017
One slow motion jagged tear
found me after you left me here.
Its wetness sits still upon my face
as I stare at absolutely no place.
What I do live and what I dream
and all sundries fitting in between,
now struggle in a frenzied dance
passing thru, in and out, this circumstance.
My brain is mush circling a clueless groove.
Surely, I need an enlightened next move.
Calm failed to enter when you shut the door,
and life as I knew it quit being anymore.
I simply cannot find my identity.
Maybe it left with you and my clarity.
I seek to ease a primal urge to shout
at frenzied thoughts dashing about.
Perhaps I knew years had grown weeds
while I prayed for fertilized love seeds.
Perhaps I knew time long held this bleed
while I prayed true love would succeed.
Perhaps my heart just died in your stampede.
Waking up in the year 2020,
I went to the local store
to buy some much
needed groceries,
"what?" I said,
a loaf of bread $10.00,
and a gallon of milk
$20.00, "holy cow!,
can't even afford to
buy a few staple sundries,
is this some kind of joke
and is someone
trying to be funny?"
I noticed a lot of the
few people shopping
who were also in a
pinch, looking very
thin and gaunt,
their belts very cinched,
went up to one and
asked why food was
so darn expensive,
she just sadly looked
back at me and said
"after the past election,
and just like Germany
in the 1920's
there is hardly any
middle class left
and now we have
more socialism,
the economic bubble
finally burst, and
we have hyperinflation!"
Thought to myself,
how'd this all happen,
then remembered I
was too busy watching
reality shows to really
pay any attention.
Paper money eventually returns to its intrinsic value-zero.-Voltaire
Never spill secrets.
Always raise the bar.
Sometimes go in hiding.
Never steal sundries.
Always look to win.
Sometimes cry.
Never arrive late.
Always appear content.
Sometimes freak out.
Never sound alarms.
Always handle it yourself.
Sometimes find windows.
Never kiss your neighbor.
Always leave a note.
Sometimes pour your heart out.
Never stop too soon.
Always reassess.
Sometimes rip it to shreds.
Never leave it for another.
Always do your best.
Sometimes is never enough.
The South had Fallen
Horace Greeley came callin'
"Go west and grow up with the country"
Destruction and death
They packed and left
With horses wagons and sundries
Wounded and bruised
Nothing to lose
Their resolve hardened by fire
Disillusioned men
Starting over again
Peace and freedom was all they desired
Hardships faced
Sidearms embraced
Settling throughout the west
Faith as their guide
Restoring some pride
The embodiment of America's best
Rebels and Yanks
Together closed ranks
Built a new heart for a nation
"Go west young man
seek fortune and land"
Romantic remembered sensation
an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner
Isolated by the shield of insecurity
The walls of paradigm unable to break through
Crouched into a small piece
The connecting door locked the border of my sanity
Long gone for the world of sundries
Terminated in limitation of self esteem
Yearn for the reasonable life to live
Seems like my world is too unkind
Reaching for the air that I thought was empty
Touched by the warm body which seems so alive
I tried to compile my sight
As if it was frosted too long
I find my self in a same room but different color
Someone paint it over upon the abstraction of lame
Rise from the tiring crouch
The hopes sustain me more
Someone paved the veil of angst
Someone who sent by the big owner of love
The one who less than perfect but not least for my room
The chamber of life, the chamber of hopes, the chamber.... is you
When I was growing up in Brooklyn,
Which was way back when,
We’d always get just what we needed
In the Five and Ten:
Cosmetics, stockings, pots and pans,
Greeting cards and games;
Curtains, tablecloths and vases,
Clothes and picture frames.
Sundries (who knew what they were?),
45’s and candy;
Mops and brooms and other things
A housewife would have handy.
It was fun to browse the aisles
With friends right after school,
And sometimes have a malted
Sitting on a fountain stool.
The Five and Tens have shut their doors;
New stores cannot compare.
I sometimes need an item
That I can’t find anywhere.
Of course, there is the internet
To help me in my search,
But in the Five and Dime, I’d never
Be left in the lurch.
28.
So this is the little shop
That you wish to stake your claim
Fill your precious storehouse
With sundries and fame.
So this is the commercial alter
That you pray to every night
Sell your cheap drink umbrellas
Hit on miracle sprites.
So this is the fun palace
That you built upon the sand
Worry not about foundation
Spit irreverently on its land.
So this is your soul’s investment
That you spend hours at play
Kill your own profit
Push eternal life away.
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