Tuesday, May 31

Vowel

...

We the a generation
we with tiger parents
underneath hippie paint
b or less only good for a
trip to cubicle coal mines
shoveling other people's load
there's kids in china that would
starve to get this job
some of them already have
we the chairs with rollers
where are these wheels supposed to go
swoop out the door, a flock of
keyboard jockeys, arms spread like
flapping of freedom
to nowhere, like icarus we rise
and plummet to linoleum earth
while our space is filled by
eager replacements with
number tickets

...

We the e generation
we cyborgs, we symbiotes in plastic shells
linked with our hyperness in digital bondage
no base belong to us
we avatars of virtual godhoods
where atheism a nonissue
every server a personal deity
every mod, hax, exploit, lol, omg
an action programmed by someone
other than us
we rattle our chains, these strands of
neural nets, these plans of domination
and dominated, as we struggle to remember
our mortal frames
we unshackled consciousness, embedded
in silicon
we free ourselves from elements and
journey, candy journey, recall to
the only home we know
control alt delete
reset

...

We the i generation
deafen our ears with innocent
buds of blasting volumeness
we the tic tac text
fooled into thinking letters are
people, as we float past skin
and smiles, tears and sins
we blinded by a shiny progress
of supple elegance, when wrinkle
people subject to planned obsolescence
there is no moore's law for humans
we stepping stones of humorous memes
do we step, or are we stepped upon
we microwave our noses with soy
protein isolate, to clean out stench
of warzone smoke, burning flesh like
recycling, foreigners in little green
bins with cycle of life arrows and
it's all groovy because john
sings imagine in our
soap bubble

...

We the o generation
organisms of titillation
celebrity reality with a lusty
hedonism, or places we've never
been, and never will be, tanned
throes of passionate people playing
we voyeurs, like weeds we kill
our televisions to have them spring
forth as culture flowers, hey man
it's the only world we know, since
reality is broken and the flashing
lights I can control, sluice nuggets
of pleasure in my pan because
there isn't enough luxury to go around
we the virtual rich with our digital
mansions, with horny pixels at my
command, because if someone's going
to derive euphoria from this
madness, it might as well
be we

...

We the u generation
we the compassionate mantra
whether dalai lama or jesus
muhammad or abraham
dawkins or huxley
or somewhere in between
we realize our self interest
tied together with usb cords of
group interest, this internet of
patience waits for trolls with
/hugs
we wait for the takers
we makers, we chomskyites in spirit
if not in practice, the true form
of democracy is love, when we decide
to build a vote for everyone, when
we humanity believe this universe
is universal, our fences of prejudice
and language and affluence divide a
shared experience
our inalienable right to
think and feel and lift our voices
to the eternal sky and just
vowel.

...

Friday, May 27

We Are Made Of Dots

...

We are made of dots
fourteen billion years
old, 'fore then cannot
ken celestial sphere

perhaps four thousand
B.C. we sprang from
dust, who's to question
omnipotent psalm

maybe yesterday
memories intact
aggregate birthday
begat with one fact:

when we disappear
our dots persevere.


...

Written for One Stop Poetry Friday Poetically with Brian Miller
Painting by Chuck Close.

...

Thursday, May 26

I Live In Stars

I live in stars
with the plasma
people we party party
party party day indeterminate
day radioactive action retains
energy flares fell in love with a
shimmer girl with nuclear eyes
we raced with fireballs we
danced with electrons
smashed from
protons



                                                 till
                             I rocketed into
cold cold space where plasma
                             people will not
                                                 go


...

 Written for G-man's Friday Flash 55.
...

Empire Avenue!

{EAV_BLOG_VER:bf136e2ceffe2e23}

The above code is for verification of this blog with Empire Avenue. Which is unimportant to all of you, but pretty neat for me.

If you don't know what that site is, EA is a lot like a stock market for social media influence.  Like Klout, it measures your weightiness around the internet.  It takes numbers from Twitter, Facebook, Youtube, and blogs (like this one) to measure how awesome you are at generating buzz.

Why would a poet care about that?  Well, I don't know about you, but I'm thrilled whenever people read what I write.  Part of communication is having an engaged audience, regardless of the medium, and sites like EA provide a yardstick for me to gauge how effective I am at broadcasting my message.  It's the same reason why Twitter and Facebook are so fascinating, because not only am I (in essence) self-publishing myself on the internet, I'm also able to see exactly how much my value is worth to the people I interact with.

I'm not the type of poet to sit on a lake and ponder.  (Not knocking those that do.)  At some point I want what I think about to be consumed by the populace, and a site like EA facilitates that interaction.

...

Collected Haiku #35

Monday, May 23

All Hail Finbar McGinn

...

All hail peasant finbar mcginn
let me sit ye upon my knee
tell tale of fisher skirr at sea

by yon fire I shall begin
a ship broke, a drake choked
great dragon filleted end to end

dismal demise for uhl feshtee
all hail hero finbar mcginn

all hail high king finbar mcginn
no longer irrelevant flea
this master of royal decree

be wary a splendid shoo-in
daggers and cloaks, some ne'er awoke
power yields sin, 'spite origin

till rebels drowned bastard at sea
all hail tyrant finbar mcginn


...


Written in Double Octain form for One Stop Poetry
Lazy this week, so linking this for One Shot Wednesday too.  :D

...

Friday, May 20

Poetry Is For Everyone

...

"Poetry is for everyone:
dusty academian nutcases
gritty street suitcases
cave painter's trance
two lover's glance
hip swaying dance
monk's whispering chants
every prayer, every song
in time follow along
a VIP's speech
all stories we teach
all waves at the beach
one fish, two fish for each,"

she thinks.
body fades.
mind a poem.

...

Friday Flash 55 written for G-Man's Mr. Knowitall blog.

...

Tuesday, May 17

Dearest Darling

...

Dearest darling, I agree you should leave:
it makes perfect sense to consider my
unconditional love unattractive.
only another perhaps satisfies

desires I know every aspect of
since I've listened to echoes of your soul.
illusions of perfect consorts above
trump my common tranquility below.

an unassuming penniless poet
absolutely devoted to your whims?
a safety net contains no allurement,
don't regret if trapeze falls to ruin.

my confidence returns, my love hidden,
with resolve I'll complete myself again.

...

Collected Haiku #31

Monday, May 16

Search For Meaning

...

Search for meaning a shaky slope
foothills of apathetic thoughts
panoramic brash youth to naught

bridges to nowhere a'frayed rope
an aftermath of passion's path
meager firepits with charred hope

whichever trail to tread we ought?
search for meaning a shaky slope.

...

Written for One Stop Monday Form – Octains.

...

Collected Haiku #30

Sunday, May 15

In A Previous Life
















In a previous life
I was an owl.
I can see you
from a mile away.
if I perch on your shoulder
your eyes seem like jewels.
please don't look at me
or else I’ll remember these
wicked claws and
the thrill of the hunt
when what I want
to be is wise
and soar.

...

Flash 55 written for One Stop Poetry Challenge – the Photography of Fee Easton.  Photo by Fee Easton.

Friday, May 13

Buttercup, I've Repeated

...

Buttercup, I've repeated, "as you wish,"
over and over and over again
anything you prefer assistance with
I'll get right on it, just let me begin

by saying "it's plain I'm common wesley
right now, and you crave dread pirate roberts,"
of course, interpret that from simple plea
blasted "as you wish" everything I blurt

feel like a moron, try not to trip when
you say, "farm boy, fill these with water, please"
can't you see this peasant is who I've been,
in my future I brave barbarous seas

"true love: you think this happens every day?"
in my mind when "as you wish" all I say.

...

Written for Friday Poetically with Brian Miller.

Thursday, May 12

From Left to Right



















...

George in a white shirt with '99 County Fair print thinks,
    "I wonder who's winning?"
Mable in a puppy print blouse thinks,
    "I should sew a balloon quilt."
Hank in blue jeans with a cell phone on his belt thinks,
    "What a waste of good money."
Cheryl in all black thinks,
    "Hank is such a spoilsport. Shoo, it's getting warm."
The people in chairs in the shade think,
    "Man, we lucked out on this one!"
Abigail, the new mom thinks,
    "When will I ever get a break?"
Cherise, the friend of the new mom thinks,
    "When will she ever stop complaining about her husband?"
George (no relation to other George), the baby thinks,
    "When will I learn to speak?"
Richard, the dad lounged out on the grass thinks,
    "I should've gone to work today."
The herd of people under the balloons think,
    "This is so exciting!  Please don't fall on me!"
The people in the balloons think,
    "When are we going?"
Jim, the man with iron grey hair thinks,
    "This can't end well."
Beth in the straw hat claps and thinks,
    "I'm having a great time!"
The people holding the ropes think,
    "When are they going to say go?"
Theresa in the red shirt thinks,
    "Hey, somebody's taking our picture."
Bill in the navy blue shirt thinks,
    "Hey, I wonder what's over there?"

...

Written for Bluebell Books short story slam.  Photo by: Melissa R. Bickel.

Collected Haiku #28

Tuesday, May 10

Upon The Wreckage

...

Upon the wreckage of heart's foundation
mortar a steadiness in goodness
consecrated diagrams envision
a personal kingdom, moral and blessed

a central tower erected where mind
subsists over matter, calm libraries
for my restless intellect to unwind
with windows so consciousness oversees

my bountiful courtyard of sentiment
beneath which subterranean tunnels
emprison the twin dragons of torment:
recollection and regret herein dwell

castle complete I shall live as a king
wait! do I behold princess approaching?

...

Collected Haiku #27

Monday, May 9

Success A Dreary Flower

...

Success a dreary flower, seasonal
flippancy dances like fancy puppets
pranced front of audience at carnival--
flutter petals! be as marionettes!

neither should one dessicate in failure:
wither and fall to despair of purpose,
lie not like common leaves, sly and unsure
of footing like despondent excuses

dirt prevails! be as life sustaining mud,
only the shallow soil seeks out fame,
florid circus! into our ground stakes plunged
humble pasture holds when storm clips acclaim

every day share in our modest rebirth
for we all abide till returned to earth.

...

Collected Haiku #26

Sunday, May 8

There Was Once a Duck

...

There was once a duck in a bucket
took offense the farmer would pluck it
pail full to the brim
of hundred proof gin
fowl wished his slayer upchuck it.

...

Friday, May 6

A Tree Said

...

A tree said
“I want to be
human”
took a name
rob
like the guy with
chainsaw
rob's soul departed by truck
shaved into lumber
shaved as a chair
sat in a store until
sat on by a human posterior
over and over and over again
then rob thought
“I want to be a
tree”

...

Posted for G-Man's Flash Friday 55.

Knights Of The Night



...

Knights of the night
we march in marsh
blight without sight
party most harsh

foul foe on prowl
we meager few
a jowled hound howls
at flanks we hew

thou understand?
we thwart notice
a canny plan
as scythes slice mice

pestilence sowed
we sneaky toads

...

Written for One Stop Poetry's Friday Poetically with Brian Miller.

Collected Haiku #24

...

help others freely
with compassion emerge as
indispensable

...

compassionate path
dear prophets at the summit
we struggle below

...

every raindrop thinks
as it falls, "if I go up
I'd be a comet"

...

vengeance ferris wheel
we are no longer amused
when will this ride end?

...

creativity
turtle flees to shell with threats
arises when calm

...

gratitude to dreams
allowed me to sleep last night
or did I forget?

...

me I want to be
glimmers in obscurity
collected starlight

...

please do not stick your
banana in the sand, it
will not taste better

...

wew wew wew wew wew
it's plagarism police
put your keyboards up

...

Thursday, May 5

If Sad Someone

...

If sad someone asks why life's worth living
when untold atrocities outnumber
altruism, rulers to power cling
with machine gun fists, and entrepreneurs

eviscerate entire neighborhoods
--a simple question with no solution:
with endless evil, how can there be good?
human race over before it's begun?

have I no answers, though have a question
spun upside down: why is death worth dying?
seems a wasted chain of our creation
a flower, sunlight in field, our shared spring

sad someone absent eons fore and next
a grave in trade for grains of happiness?

...

Collected Haiku #23

...

jealousy is the
slow heat of a summer sun
bare feet on sidewalk

...

beware pirate love
they'll bury treasure in chest
sail to island lush

...

wearing my bathrobe
in universal beyond
wonder who abides?

...

a concrete buddha
meditates, gathers no moss
until rolled downhill

...

slumber tramples me
with elephantine vigor
subconscious grazes

...

embarrassment blush
is like sticking wet hands in
tuft of laundry lint

...

beloved, if we
leap from lofty ledge, will we
climb cliff together?

...

heisenberg, direct
uncertain observers need
certain relations

...

unconditional
love begins when we forgive
dire enemies

...

Wednesday, May 4

Collected Haiku #22

...

suffering smolders
a slightest memory breeze
forest reignites

...

pilgrim asks prophet
"where is heaven? where is hell?"
seer raises mirror

...

what rhymes with orange?
as I sip chamomile tea
at least hat matches

...

these digital words
travel amongst gracious souls
shall they fall astray?

...

shanghai in our dreams
an exotic reverie
chinese restaurant

...

invisibility
my super power, watch this
you can't see me now

...

if I am speechless
it's not reserved apathy
my words deficient

...

autonomy sings
a robin outside our cage
harmonious mind

...

a flood dissipates
river returns to normal
wreckage of poems

...

Tuesday, May 3

Findlestump Knows

...

Findlestump knows neath the roundabout tree
while whether they cackle or nibble not
wickle neeches gather for moonbeam tea
avoid shankily roots or you'll be caught

a morsel you'd be for their appetite
poor findlestump's uncle, he lost his way
a fumble dool they gobbled in three bites
couldn't even screel, or so auntie says

shinilly hero you are? oh I see
that vorpal sword tied to your bearing back
slaughtered some foe called a jabba wockee?
thickity thack you're a snickity snack!

findlestump knows neath the roundabout tree
wickle neeches gather by hex of me

...

Monday, May 2

Limericks Are Fun!

...

Thanks to Mad Kane for the limerick contest. Here's my entry for the week:

A gal had to cancel her plan
to boink the gardening man
she nibbled her tongue
from afar he looked hung
alas just the watering can.

...

You Will Know Me

...

You will know me when my face is as night:
determined depths of patient space combined
with endless eyes of radiant starfall
atmospheres pierced with my passion's fury

you will know me by my fervent body:
limbs propelled by virtue of creative
fission; no nuclear reactor here--
a zeal extractor generates my suns

you will know me as my mind conflagrates
escapes its metaphysical prison
crosses the ageless void, light years journeyed
so you might see my luminosity

...

Sunday, May 1

When I See You I See Sand


















...

When I see you I see sand
surge in narrow rivulets
fractal across wasted land
an amiable onset

a gust rises in the east
waves of stones that remember
their dormant glory released
I see you now: a boulder

...

Inspired by Rosa Frei at One Stop Poetry. Photograph by Rosa Frei. Used with permission.

...

Collected Haiku #21

...

a kid cries, phone rings
other child turbulent
my mind's on the moon

...

listen to the creaks
dishwasher, lights, floor, music
of your absent voice

...

art center empty
across street parking lot full
poker room figments

...

every poem is
a lie we accept as truth
authentic fiction

...

one said, "dialogue
is inferior to thoughts,"
and our brains melted

...

"blunderclumped" a word
at urban dictionary
english grows, huzzah!

...

an afternoon nap
world drifts by like red canoe
hurry up! paddle!

...

if these words are lost
in static of the future
will our minds mingle?

...

watermelon rind
dropped in back of pickup truck
someone honks a horn

...