The Spotlight

In response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt:

Witness Protection. When you do something scary or stressful–bungee jumping or public speaking, etc.–do you prefer to be surrounded by friends or by strangers? Why?

No shrinking violet, am I
Yet the circumstances do decree
If an audience of strangers or friends
Is preferable to me.

When speaking to a group
Of unfamiliar folks my
Sense of timing is impeccable
And I’m full of witty jokes.

At karaoke, though, I find
The better I know the crowd
The more relaxed my vocal chords
So I sing out loud and proud.

If ever I should bungee jump
I want six friends around
To serve as my pall bearers
In case I splatter on the ground.

Peace, people!

Ares

Red,

Inhospitable,

Waterless,

Sand full,

Storm-ridden,

Planetary 

Neighbor.

Visible,

Identifiable 

Even to an 

Untrained eye,

225 million

Kilometers

Distant.

Yes, I’d go

In a heartbeat.

Explore placid

Acidalia Planitia,

Marth Crater’s

Western edge, and

Ares Vallis. 

Alas, I am

Old.

Not astronaut

Material.

Perhaps, though,

In twenty years

Or so, 

Top-rate

Extended care

Facilities for

Elderly 

Dreamers

Might open up

On distant

Mars.

Sign me up.

  
Peace, people!

Skating By

slipping on black ice
skittering wildly on by
hoping for a brake.

  
once out of control
look out kiddies, here i come
screaming yeehaw, y’all!

  
’round and ’round again
spinning donuts whip whapping
as hood chases boot.

  
May I never have to drive on snow and ice again.

Peace, people!

Smile, Don’t Speak

Daily Prompt: What do you find more unbearable? Watching a video of yourself or hearing a recording of your voice?

The lie I tell myself:
“Darling,” (that’s my pet name for me),
“Your disembodied voice
Grates. (That’s as polite as I can be.)

“But darling in your favor,
A natural grace and sweet disposition
Compensate for failings
In your whiny intonational exposition.”

“So, what you’re saying,”
I nod to myself, no nicknames embedded,
“Is that the camera loves me
And video is where I should be headed.”

“Darling, no,” I laugh,
“You’re not camera ready, either!
Avoid both at all costs,
And forget we had this conversation.”

The author in conversation with herself.

FOR THOSE WHO SAID FRODO LIVES

Love this piece by Mike Steeden! Peace and love, baby.

mikesteeden's avatar- MIKE STEEDEN -

hippie

Boomers in adolescence, the death of short back and sides
‘Shoulder length or longer’ the order of Hair tribe’s new dawning
Age of Aquarius letting in just ‘the flash of a neon light’ bogus sun
not that the free love hopefuls, the weekend hippies could differentiate

Timothy’s ‘Turn on, tune in, drop out’ therapeutic muddled mind psilocybin mushrooms
far out phallic axe hero’s, sex without hang-ups big talk, sisters doing fertility for themselves
no more sweet smile vacuuming for hubby wives ofttimes handcuffed to the kitchen sink
no more blue collar jobs for life, the paternal odyssey discharged as impotent folly

Miniskirts and Mini’s, Quant girls eight inches above the knee groovy extravaganza
go-go boots a ’dancing a punters delight while maiden aunts just shake their heads
material possessions declared a mortal sin by those who had the whole shebang
a murmur of brave snazzy gays, heads above the old…

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What a Display

only a fervent belief
in the right to
free speech
and a strong sense
of self-preservation,
prevented my
thoughts from becoming
harsh words upon 
encountering this flag’s
presentation.


right out in the open
with their unearned
privilege in full
view of capitol’s stage,
they peddled their
hated rhetoric
making light of the
bondage and bloodshed
of America’s own
darkest age.

Studly and I had visitors from Indiana this weekend. While the men played golf I took my friend LeeAnn to tour the historic Florida capitol building.

I’ve been to the capitol several times now and had never before encountered armed policeman in the old capitol building that now houses a museum. But on this occasion there were two steely eyed officers warily stalking the foyer.

Before I approached the reception desk I asked one of the officers if there was cause for concern. He assured me all was fine, so LeeAnn and I embarked on our tour.

While perusing a second floor exhibit of Florida’s extensive state park system something outside the window caught our attention. There on the capitol grounds was a full-blown demonstration of Confederate flag waving yahoos.

  
Every molecule in my body called for me to walk down the steps and ask the demonstrators if they understood that the flag is perceived as a symbol of hatred by every fully evolved human. Sanity prevailed, though, and I resisted the urge. That first amendment is a powerful thing. Well, that, and my desire to stay out of jail.

Peace, people!

Better Left Unsaid?

a door left wide open, perhaps a precipice.
step right in; leap heedlessly into
the dark abyss.

instead i demurred, chose the status quo,
and now we face the consequence, but how was i to know?

guarded portal closed, shut for all these years,
yet if it should swing wide again i’m bound to face my fears.

your progeny are ill behaved, i’ll say,
disrespectful to all but you;
the interest compounded throughout their lives steadily accrues.

or maybe i’ll just smile and nod, agree with all you say,
waiting there by an exit narrowed, and again, watch you walk away.

  

Horn Of Plenty

Quickly becoming one of my favorite poets. Read more at scottishmomus.com.

scottishmomus's avatarscottishmomus

924e4ca039ad89aac80eedef94b3213b

(source)

licquor pours across all floors

it is not possible to become

intoxicated today when

bota bag bleeds and seeps

its blood-red vintage while

weary herdsmen weep

and skin afresh, hanging

hircine hopes on kids

gathering yesterday’s grapes

for fresh pressing

remembering to decant

old with old, the new with new

and both willing the carver

with every bone in their bodies

to gouge with due caution

adhere with common sense

remember libation to providers

and secure for all, in celebration,

that the horn has plenty

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What a World

Just loved this piece by Paul Lenzi.

Paul F. Lenzi's avatarPoesy plus Polemics

"Sadness" Painting by David Junod From piximggif.com “Sadness”
Painting by David Junod
From piximggif.com

I need a God
who will laugh
at this world

I can manage
the crying
all by myself

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Smile!…..Oh, Va Te Faire Enculer!

Oh I laughed so hard! Read more at scottishmomus.wordpress.com.

scottishmomus's avatarscottishmomus

I have taken some slagging this weekend. I think I might have brought much of it on myself, right enough.

Apparently, referring to David Bowie as an artiste is deemed incredibly pretentious and results in, Ooh, la, la’s and Lah de dah’s from my jokers here. Having a Glaswegian accent does not allow you to insert French, or any other language, into general conversation. I don’t care what they say. I know they all think he definitely had a certain je ne sais quoi.

Bastards.

The main piece of slagging actually started on Thursday and continued right through until yesterday. My own fault, as I said.

Hubs and I had to get passport photos taken (our old ones are so out of date, they’re relics). But hubs has been growing a beard. Yeah. No problem with that. His face. He can do what he likes with it. Up to a point…

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