24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
The Muses are being elusive again,
like they want to hide from me or something.
Don’t they know I know their strategies?
Don’t they see how important they are?
Why do they hide behind the trees?
In the cupboard?
Why do they look at me and laugh?
Daring me, toying with me?
I do try to coax them, cajole them, pay them even.
But some days they just sulk,
or abuse
or worse yet
they play hide and go seek.
Do they know I am on a deadline here?
Here am.
Blind in .
Trying something.
stress?
Nerves, , hope?
React Reach ….
Can help in place of thought.
I. What am I?
Not everyone should be here.
Piss-poor prose proves it.
A life of homework and hormones,
judge and jury, mom and mistress,
tour guide to mind-travels, opening
doors, smacking the knuckles of form,
and crushing hopes, time, and progress,
sometimes, and at other times,
cradling children to their higher selves.
II.What am I?
And adults, too, not in sterile walls,
but on soft cushions, brushed in
pastel blues, pinks, and lavender,
a wave wall below the billowing clouds,
emanating from dark chocolate laminate,
facsimile of earth and sky.
Here, the magic grows from crooked toes,
knobby knees, putrid breath, loose sphincter,
synchronized to subtle movement, and
peace, peace, and perfect peace.
III. What am I?
But not the cathode ray light,
the one I tap at, looking for linguistic
miracles, searching for synonyms,
definitions, brisk, leisurely, narrow, wide,
whichever way the words lean, the subject
unwinding and then reeling back in,
close to the bone, from vacuum cleaner
reviews to gun crimes in New Jersey
to Texas probates, and mans’ best friend and beyond.
A buck will get you 20, a hundred so much more, but
Steady pay gets you life.
Neptune
September 1846
The home of possibly an ocean, but likely not
A place where a day is only 16 hours but a trip takes 165 years
if headed in a ellipse
Where diamond rain may be an occurrence
Icy crystals in a frozen tundra
As strong winds would blow it around, that is
Until those winds suddenly up and disappeared
With little to no explanation as to why
What is the furthest planet from the sun
Hour 6 used marathon prompt
I stand on the edge and stare down
Stare into the worlds beyond
Each of the other places so far
The other worlds floating around
Or maybe it’s our world that moves
But that’s not the point
The point is I’m staring at these worlds
And I’m waiting for them to be close enough
Because if I’m lucky
The next world will catch me
The next disc and it’s life will catch me
And let me explore its surface
Discover this other world
Before I stand on the next edge
We hear it so often, it almost doesn’t register anymore;
how could it when it’s drowned out by everything else?
It fucking HURTS- turns the basic human condition into a scam -boiling frogs? The skin is sloughing off, emulsified into a half-conscious soup. Look – the emptiness all around, the gibberish in the phone – nothing makes sense by design.
the line
breaks
The blinds are always left up by about 6 inches, the height of the dog’s heads
They rush across the kitchen floor when they hear the beeping of the electric lock.
The first to greet me at the door, sometimes the only one
Laying on the floor in a sunspot, whispered truths share the light.
I miss having some
one to share secrets with, all
my dogs are dead now
Is It Wrong To Love A Cartoon Dog?
When we talk of love, we claim it is blind
That what’s on the outside doesn’t matter
That the positive aspects on the inside are important.
Though she is married, I’ve found a love,
She is kind and thoughtful,
And her motherly bond is strong.
Her love for family and love for her kids
Is accentuated by her twisting fun dances
Does it truly matter if it’s all make-believe?
I tried to bake a cake today,
But things did not go my way.
I mixed the flour and the sugar,
And then I added the egg and the butter.
But when it came time to bake,
I realized my mistake.
I had forgotten to preheat the oven,
And now my cake was looking nothing but rotten.
I tried to salvage the mess,
And decided to play it by ear, I confess.
I added some cocoa powder and a pinch of salt,
And hoped for the best, though it was not my fault.
But when I pulled it out of the oven,
I knew that it was not for lovin’.
It was flat and hard as a rock,
And I knew I’d have to toss it in the trash block.
So next time I try to bake,
I’ll make sure to preheat and not make a mistake.
Or maybe I’ll just stick to buying,
And avoid any more cake-baking crying.