POem of the Month - November 2018

I inhaled and it tasted like

hoards of scantly clad black lace Halloween costumes in the chill of the night

brilliant poets committing suicide from bridges to embankments in Minneapolis

potholes on I-40 west tearing up your car

ex-girlfriends reading love letters on a daily basis to feed a fire of a questionable end

stuffy overheated truck cabins and steaming up the windows

working doubles at a call center in a half cubicle that cutthroats would be hesitant of

exit 389's off ramp where the cities electric lights burn as lit beacons of hope into the night

I inhaled and it felt of

seedy motels off magnolia that rent by the hour

golden autumn leaf piles I jumped in as a kid

I inhaled and it burned like October...

I'm old(er)    
  and proud of every laugh line      
    a crow's talon has carved        
    into this olive landscape        
       
My mother was buried at 34;      
    never lived to see me graduate        
    marry, or give birth        
      to the next generation of her      
       
I remember thinking        
  how old she was      
But, recognized my ignorance        
  when I actually matured        
       
I recognize yours too-      
  and laugh ( though not deridingly )      
    enough to fill a Universe;        
      you're ridiculing the very galaxy      
      you're orbiting yourself;      
       
      incomprehension at its finest:      
       proud and unexperiened        
       
By the time you dock        
  ( and you will live that long )      
on that golden Death Star      
   of middle-age to live it out    
   I'll be long into another lifetime;      
       
Young, free      
  maybe even a titanium ring      
    on a moth's wing      
Or, perhaps a young girl        
    in Bangladesh        
       
Regardless-      
       
I won't be mocking your age      
  ( that will be someone else )      
  or scoffing physical attributes:      
   aesthetics, a handicap, disease,        
   mental illness, intellect, years        
       
I undoutedly learned that lesson        
  in a past existence        
because it never once occurred      
  to act such a way in this one        
  ( though I've been falsely accused );
 
I know better      
       
I'm old(er)      
 and proud of every laugh line      
    a crow's talon has carved      
    into this olive landscape      
       
Because I'm alive at 58      
  been blessed with children      
  lived to see them graduate        
     enter relationships and give birth        
      to the next generation of me      
       
And ( no, I'm not finished yet ) -      
       
because Love is my greatest reward      
  So "Why should I be unhappy?"      
When "Every parcel of my being        
   is in full bloom."      
       
I probably have less life to live      
  than I've lived so far; that's okay-      
I can honestly say,        
       
Aye! here's the rub;      
  the two things I prayed for came true      
  my mirror is all but polished too      
       
My genuine wish for you, young(er)      
  counterpart, is no less than the same;      
Wisdom commands it of sincerity         
  ( though in ignorance        
        you may not yet believe )      
 
~  
 
#Rumi

A seagull eating
the dropped remains of
a hotdog, tossing
and catching the bread, extending
its neck like a snake
with an apple.

A self-service checkout
programmed to sound
like Elvis Presley,
as if making me use this crud wasn’t
enough, they have to patronise me, too.
Thrift-shop shits. There’s anterooms in Hell
full up with these fuckers.

A man outside a cheap café
complaining of his DLA -
Disability Living Allowance;
he’s in a wheelchair - interrupted only by
the chink of white china: cups
and saucers punctuation marks.

While good fortune may be transient
and our pleasures often contingent
contentment is a serene condition

When we seek purposeful direction
and know meaningful connection
our sense of belonging amplifies

Appreciating each moment as a gift
we experience spiritual lift
and can delight in the divine

With an altruistic attitude
finding grace in gratitude
we are afforded authentic joy

Through our compassion and charity
by practicing kindness and sincerity
profound happiness is manifested

Accessible to me and you
I believe this to be true
if we hold these principles in high esteem

                            
                           
i)                            
Dried rose petals                              
fascinate me                              
The delicate death                              
of blooming                            
colour and scent      
has an unsurpassed beauty  
   
Similarly, empty streets                              
sharing architectural                              
wonderlands                              
in the direction stones fell  
grasping historical stories  
that walked over surfaces  
for decades;  
a raconteur  
I've dreamed of studying  
for silenced days                            
(and years between them)                  
                   
Sometimes, poetry is intercepted;        words splashing about                              
like sugar cubes                          
causing tidal waves                              
and ripples                            
drowning                            
in a cup of tea                            
brewed                      
-left in the pot                            
longer than an expiry date                            
                           
ii)                            
Had moment to picnic                              
this morning under      
a large oak tree                              
speaking wisdom      
from it's trunk      
like dying leaves      
in autumnal mist                              
                             
One leaf fell                              
like crumpled paper                              
wearing unused words;    
knowing                            
in the reading                              
someone surrendered early                            
                             
Branches left shadows                              
accross the ground                              
in a web                              
of indifference                              
                             
Sat there                              
staring at nothing                              
reading each word                              
dropped through tea                              
and roses                              
-hoping to find                            
living, in the beauty of it                          
                           
iii)                          
Found acorns;                              
jolting memory verses                              
in hats of kind phrases                              
brought to the forefront of my
mental theatre's
screen and Dolby system                            
                             
Took them for a walk                              
-in my pocket                
through Tuscan streets                          
to the confectionary                
                 
Sipping at coffee                              
with a smily face      
whirled in the froth;          
leaving those acorns on the table    
felt apt -    
next to the salt and pepper  
facing the window                              
gazing towards a                          
quiet unobtrusive lake;                            
                         
                             
where, under the table lay                    
a lonely, dried, pressed rose petal.                          
                             
                             
-x-                              
                             
                             
                             
                             
                             
                             
                             
                             
                             
                             
                             
 

all hail the male savior, alas,
he has blessed you with the answers just like
the old answers before;
you see, for, he was right in the first place
and all along, justified
with each blow, with each black eye, broken nose,
torn vulva and broken heart he has strived
to teach you the way of shallow waters,
of golden palaces, slave labor clothing,
and various shiny things dug up by one arm garbage boys.
he knows what you want before you want it,
he's thought your thoughts
and felt your feelings for you
and knows what's worse to suit everyone's best.
you see, little girl, you know nothing of philosophy,
of those intellectual gymnastics that have proven
the sanctity of every necessary atrocity.
speak not
and forever hold your peace.
or forever he shall hold your humanity
for ransom.
complain not, for he nurtures you
(like livestock).

unfinished children
seek the discipline of a womb
only to relive the trauma of a birth
always screaming internally
at an indelible ineptitude it cannot understand
unaware and naively unafraid that
its death was already underway
long ago