Poetry You Didn't Ask For...

Whew...I am cuttin' it kinda close tonight! I put sooooo much thought into tonight's post that I nearly lost track of the time.  Anyway, this evening's poetry is from the WAAAAYYYY back vault, the vault where inexplicable pubescent verse resides.

Simplicity

simplicity, of youth

it's presence is welcome

a child's mind vivid with

dreams of future years

is spellbinding yet simple

enough to be grasped by

nature's ignorance

Now this is some deep shit, I know, but imagine it cross stitched and framed and hanging on your aunt's wall. Oh, yeah. I liked this one so much that I committed it to embroidery for all eternity. In purple floss, no less, with buttons for added flare.

Trust

on alphabet blocks it

towers, never wavering

until deceit breaks the

delicate wall of juvenile

innocence

Hmm, here's one for my therapist, but before we go let's take a moment to appreciate the totally random sentence breaks in this piece of poesy. 
 

Vengence

the fire or it's strength

burns deep in the heart of 

all mankind. Like the hot 

sun it burns eteranally

painfully inflicted on

all who dare to cross the

line between freedom and

socialism.

Please note the explanatory nature of that first line. I wanted to make very clear that I was using FIRE as a metaphor for STRENGTH. I must have been afraid that someone would accuse me of pyromania. I have also thrown in random punctuation and pointless capitalization, just to show that I will not be confined by poetic conventions, because clearly I will not be a SOCIALIST.  I am a lover of FREEDOM! I recall precisely that I added the word socialism because I thought it sounded good. I waited patiently for someone, anyone to call me on it, but no one batted an eye. It momentarily shook my confidence.  Obviously, people where just humoring me if they couldn't see what a load of crap this poem was.  By the way, these three poems were actually published by the Literary Guild of Sharon, Pennsylvania in their annual volume Wordscapes. I'm sure you have a copy of it on your shelf right now...

 

 

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Poetry You Didn't Ask For...

Once upon a time, I was a poet. I felt like I needed a sturdy occupation to fall back on should my midwestern theatrical career fail to put food on the table. Shortly after I was married, I enjoyed a brief and meteoric rise to the top of the Dayton, Ohio Slam Poetry scene. Here is the poem that won me ten whole dollars one night at the Canal Street Tavern. To this day, I cannot be sure if I won on merit or the appearance of my ass in a pair of black leather pants. You be the judge...

Somewhere
between the euphoria
of ending my education
and
the pushed down a flight of stairs
let-down of the real world

I managed to drop myself
into
an uncomfortably real situation

In a cloud of confusion
made thicker
by
low self esteem
and a selective lack
of self awareness

I survey the grounds
of my self imposed
white trash
paradise
complete with snoring fat guy
and I wonder how I might
describe on paper
for posterity
the depths to which
my once promising life
has sunk

off key karaoke love
sung
in horny desperation
drunk on undivided adoration
and coca-cola
he's got a full set 
of teeth
and a job


There is no
wipe-the-sweat-from-my-brow
solution to this dilema
as a rousing chorus of
"I told you so"
is performed
by my family and friends

I hear him now
buzzing
like a chainsaw
through petrified wood
lousing the apartment
with the aroma
of an outhouse in the woods

There is an empty can
of Dr. Pepper
dripping days old
caramel colored goo
onto a framed picture
of myself at 8 years old

freer
pinker
undiluted
carbonated
joyful me
dressed to apprentice
the 20th century
Madonna
sullied
by the fruits
of my misguided
post-college
pre-marital
pseudo-intellectual
love nest

I could sneak out
in the middle of the night
but
my books won't fit
in the trunk of my car
and my wardrobe is too vast
and I am
too lazy
to construct
a get away plan

Tonight we celebrate
the 6 month anniversary
of our sham of a romance
he's asleep
and I'm wondering
if he might stay that way
for the duration
of my two week notice
I'm wondering if he would notice
I was gone
would he wonder why I left?

If I sit here long enough
if I wait long enough
will my brain rot,
ass atrophy
ideals liquify
into a puddle
of once bubbly ooze
spreading over what might have been?
 

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