Invertebrates have no idea just how fortune smiled upon their meager lives
by denying them the gift of a spine. No backbone means no bulging discs, or
shooting pains from hip to shin. On most days I’m proud to count thirty-three
vertebrae from stem to stern, to be among the higher order of God’s creative will,
but today I’d gladly trade places with a spineless critter, preferably a
butterfly instead of a spider or mollusk. Certainly not a sponge.
Standing on the corner
Of Hate and Paranoia
Hanging high, a banner
Around me, phobic patter
Blame those with darker skin!
Attack those you think sin!
Do it in the name of God!
Forget that He commanded love!
Easy to go with the flow
Buoyed by their anger’s tow
So many souls kept in thrall
To xenophobic clarion call.
But one block further down
Folks rejoice in sweetness found
Freedom reigns one street east
On the corner of Joy and Peace.
Peace, people.
I know nothing about Brussels, but my heart aches for the innocent lives lost.
There’s no high horse, no excuses. Blame enough to go skipping across the universe
And back again. Calls for retribution easier made than accomplished. Politicians in
Training pretend to know the proper course, flailing this way and that; a great
Deal of sound and fury, signifying absolutely nothing except the size of their
Over-inflated egos and underdeveloped intelligence in this election year.
Peace, please, people.
What’s the difference in getting what you want and in settling for what they’ve got?
Why do I always feel like a nag, a shrew when I search for days and weeks and months and nothing I find will do?
So I go along to get along and accept the next best thing, but I plump it up with pillows and color and try to give it zing.
But in the back of my mind I always think, next time I’ll hold out. Next time there’ll be no doubt.
That I got exactly what I wanted and not just what they offered. Maybe.
Fifty-nine years and what do I know?
Apart from grey hair and wrinkles in tow
I’ve developed a limp and I’ve aches in my knees
That defy medication; I’m begging please
Just amputate everything south of my waist
I don’t need it anyhow so do it with haste
Before I have time to consider the loss
Of hips, thighs, legs, and those vaginal parts
I’ll still have my arms, my mouth, and brain
To write, rant, and think as I go slowly insane.
I’ve done something to my right hip which in turn is affecting my ankle. I’m walking as if I’m 102. It’s no fun. So, I turned it into this little ditty hoping it would make me feel better. So far, it hasn’t helped even a little bit.
Calloused
hands that carve or dig or plane,
roughed up, describe a textured
tale of hard years and harder days
whether laid end to end or stacked
in geologic layers: holocene, triassic,
permian. no oil struck or fossils
unearthed. jutting epidermal extensions,
thumb worn, subconsciously worrying
round and round. callous, unfeeling? or ultimate badge of survival?
Cute pictures of baby animals with some simple verse interspersed. My work here is done!
Well there you are, Spring!
Full of promise, bright sunshine,
And budding flowers.
Shhh! Learn to listen
To birds chirping, bees humming
Nature’s symphony.
Grab a front row seat
To the pageantry and joy
No ticket required.
Peace, people!
A caution duly noted,
“those words will not increase
your popularity.”
My response: screw popularity
I’ll say what’s right
and damn the consequences!
And when you’ve exhausted
everyone’s good will?
Then what?
I’ll create imaginary
friends and we’ll dance
and sing and exchange witty barbs.
But won’t you be lonely,
woman? Sitting by
yourself, whistling in the wind?
I’d rather be lonely
surrounded by truth than cradled
by those who spout lies.
peace, people!
mastering the art of traveling through time took less skill than anticipated.
even so, i lifted weights, jogged for hours,
and deeply meditated.
finally i prepared to leap into the fourth dimension
engaged the machine and catapulted in a westerly direction
behold, i left at 1 p.m. eastern and arrived at 12:30 p.m. central
thus proving for once that time travel is somewhat preferential.
of course on my return to feathered nest the hour I did give back
So naught was gained on this fair day; my methods sorely did lack.
The evening ended on a high note. A C, I believe. When the applause faded into
murmurs and restless rustlings I found myself in the midst of a jubilant crowd,
jockeying for position to exit the venue.
A seemingly endless series of stairs climbed up and up, testament to the
quality of my third row seat. By the time I’d made my way to the top I was winded, weak in the knees.
Across a carpeted foyer and into the night, I inched along, part of a slowly stampeding
herd. Around me, talk swirled of late dinners and night caps, of romantic
assignations and illicit rendezvous.
The doors opened onto a blustery night. Jackets quickly donned against the chill
could not dampen the anticipation in the air. And I? I threw caution to the wind and
ordered two donuts at the bakery next door.
Walking on the wild side.
Praying for Eyebrowz 