Deep Blue
An icy cold plunge
Beautiful reefs all around.
The current frees me.
Hour Fifteen Baby Boomer Identity Crisis
15 2017 Baby Boomer Identity Crisis.
Baby Boomer Identity Crisis.
by Paul Robert Sanford
They told all us youngsters when we became wan and confused
after matriculation in college in the sixties
that we were just suffering from and “identity crisis.”
The implication was that we would get over the yips,
settle down and become good square citizens
as soon as we got some life experience.
By the time I graduated
the Vietnam War had hit its stride;
assassinations claimed MLK, RFK and Malcolm.
the Watts riots and so forth burned, baby, burned.
Half of us dropped out in some way or another,
the other half pursued success and stability.
Some of us are still lost,
the rest of us entering a happy retirement.
It turns out the world has gone through an identity crisis also.
In that half century America has dominated a world
,full of war, famine, racism and tribalism,
genocide, growing chattel slavery,
a population boom, environmental challenges,
extinction of species, loss of habitat,
global warming, stagflation, inflation, recession and
the rise of depression among all of us.
Like some people today, we were too smart, too hip, to vote.
All the choices were between the lesser of two evils.
Then we learned how bad the greater of two evils can be.
There have been unprecedented changes in personal freedom
in our country, even as freedom is challenged and held hostage across the world.
We strum our lyres and sing Kum Bah Yah and We Shall Overcome
and to the naked eye it looks like progress.
For a brief window it looked like even the Supreme Court
was on the side of Justice and Freedom.
Decade after decade the pendulum has swung back and forth
between courage and terror, liberty and law and order,
Justice and Just Us.
For the first time it looks like the next generation won’t do as well as their parents.
Or a few of them will join the 1%.
The election of 2016 shocked us back half a century.
I don’t know if we will recover in time for me to see it.
Identity Crisis? It’s personal, it’s national, it’s global, maybe it’s universal
as we discover new and glittering ideas about cosmology.
It looks like we need to take to the streets and the ballot box again
and take back our identity.
PSYCHIC PORRIDGE
In the madness of the eyes my senses fail and reason is lost.
This is the miracle fire.
Our days, our misery, our bitter lovers.
I am paradise.
I live in paradise.
You are the father of affliction.
Ripping our flesh as teeth kiss.
Red ropes cast spells.
Standing here frozen.
I warned you to twist your heart.
I warned you to witness my cracked open room with a view.
Misplacer’s Blues
Oh no! It’s gone!
Quick, search in the cupboard,
under the stairs,
peek in the fridge; it may be there!
Dig through your purse,
pull out your pockets,
silently vow you’ll hoard less
of all the wrappers of gum,
oh! There’s that skirt from 2001,
lip balm, hair brush, lint roller.
But it’s still lost, hang on.
Phew. On the charger.
Now…
Oh no, they’re gone!
Where are my glasses?
Please don’t tell me
they’re somewhere over here…
Bathroom, living room, upstairs and down,
you’ve searched everywhere, except..
Oh! On your head!
Hour 17
Missing You Still
Ever since I lost you
I have been searching
For a way to keep you close
I have it, I know what to do
I will have you marked into my skin
All red and feathered and alive
A way to show the world you are still here
Hour 12: 100 words
Angels singing in the breeze,
Bubblegum flavored cotton candy ,
Candles made from drippings,
Dog moons are eclipsing.
Elves in the foxglove,
Gloves on a horse
Hay sold in inches
Inchworms are jumping on Jimmy
Of course.
Japanese koi are obviously kicking
Kid goats are licking,
Lions meowing
Monarchs are napping,
Needles are ouch-ing
Oceans are pulling
Pipers are quip-ing
Quail are returning
Rabbits are stomping,
Silver pails thumping,
Turtles are racing in bright underwear.
Unicorns dance at a vampire fair
Voices are waking
Wind needs xeroxing
Xylophone choirs are nervously yelping.
Yellow is zipping
zebras arriving—
so is this helping?
Watch the Door
I used to miss him, then I corrected my aim.
I used to love him, but he lost that game.
I used to want him, but now that he’s gone
I am happier without than with him.
I lost the one I thought I would love
Forever and a day.
I gave it my all, had a ball
And then he walked away.
“Don’t let the door hit ya’
Where the good Lord split ya’”
I hollered at his retreating back.
He turned around and stared
Thinking I cared
I blew a kiss, smiled and said, “See ya!”
Losing someone
Meeting someone in one’s life
Communing anew to illuminate
Garnering much so divine
Grasping every lessons learned
Primordial undertaking truly diverse
Assimilate in depth and divide
Matching in river of adverse
Nothing me to subdivide
Formidability promoting
Commencing such tears
Adoring in the salient motioning
Nothing left for fears
Foregoing much in its severity
Drawing latent most in adversity
© Roy Mark Azanza Corrales 06082017 1:05 PM PST
Prompt#15, Shiva tandav
He was phallus incarnate
rage and passion both carnal and sedate
his dance was of great rigour
but steeped in dew and ardour
no sarcasm, no guile
no details of cunning kind
only the pure blue feelings
stuck in his throat
he danced for days on end
and gained thus a reputation
for being and becoming
creation and adoration
his dance is the thunder
wearing anklets
his song the rain
soaking earth
a vast populace
opens its hearts
to his passion’s
ritual insinuatiion
the drum-beats
are small
but his trishul long
three pronged he kills
love, lust and avarice
with his big feet dancing
to rhythm and beat
he births
love, desire and mavericks
Crazy ex
You left your T-shirt here
I found a random strand of your hair last night
Every part of my house has a random reminder of you in it
I miss you and not in that creepy way that psycho Exes who only dated you for a month do
I just miss you.
You seem like you really wanted to talk but you responded to my Facebook message
I don’t want to read too heavy into this again
Oh crap.
There I go, parachuting, back into my crazy…