Posts for June 22, 2023 (page 4)

Category
Poem

Month of Quiet Meandering

I haven’t spoken
in long enough
that my lips
have sealed
together.
I run my tongue
over the seam,
smooth and even.
I pull them apart
a peeling
of the layers.
I feel my teeth,
the grime and 
sugar coating,
the grooves and
all my gums.
When I open
my mouth,
it feels like
a gaping maw,
an endless hole
deep down into
the core of me.
The world might
work it’s way
down and yank
out my soul,
slip it right
through my
esophagus.
I leave it there,
waiting.
But all I feel
is a gentle wind
and a nagging
urge to scream
and stamp my feet.
To stop and feel
my madness.
And so I do.


Registration photo of Sophie Watson for the LexPoMo 2023 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

Ode to ‘You’

How can anyone love me 

                                                like I am 
                                                when I am 
                                                not pretending
                                                to be lovable:
          not painting my face,
          or disintegrating my body, 
          or making excuses 
          as to why I left 
          the door open again,
          why the books unspiral 
          into stories about you.

How can anyone know me  

          after I crumble like a cathedral
          when it’s god abandons it to the tide
          of bad believers, rushing in and out.
          Like the little angel on the spire
          my mouth is full of sunlight,
                                                              burning,
                                                              burning,
                                                              burning.
                                                              The last
                                                              real
                                                              consequence.

I say this is my job:

          to burn,
          to make it art.

But you won’t love me  

                                            like this, 
                                            like a weapon,
                                            like the last person
                                            to carry a religion.
                                            In my devotion
                                            a violence rises 
                                            to my lips. 
           I desire control
           but I will
           not find it  
           through you.
           I know what I need 
           and what I want.

How can anyone remember me.

            You’ll see me walking
            over foreign continents,
            giving you the impression
            of all the sharp objects
            who will not save you
            from yourself.
                                             And I’ll be happy
                                             giving myself
                                             to something else
                                             much bigger
                                             than your love.


Registration photo of Katie Hassall for the LexPoMo 2023 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

Insomnia

Last night was one of those nights
where my mind would not shut
off to rest and my brain kept going 
around and around in loops

I tried deep breathing and methodically
relaxing my body, but my tense muscles
refused to relax and my mind kept going 
full speed ahead

When morning came, I did not feel rested
I felt like I had wrestled someone much 
stronger than me all night and my mind was
so overworked, that even making coffee was hard

The day has been never ending because I am
so exhaused, is 3pm too early to go to bed?
I refuse to take a nap because I know that
will make tonight even harder, so I keep moving

Hopefully, after so little rest last night, 
my body will allow itself to rest
and rejuvinate tonight, I hope so
because I am very tired!


Category
Poem

BBQ Trio

Barbecue invites make vegans tense
About dishes that I will dispense,
But  grilled squash and sweet corn
The porch table adorn;
As for meat, it’s too great an expense.  

Colorful fruit sits
by vegetables skewered
and ready for heat.  

Barbecue
casual, easy
inviting, crowd-pleasing, mouth-watering
meal on the patio
Cookout


Registration photo of DadaDaedalus for the LexPoMo 2023 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

Naturalized

want to wield Excalibur
c’mere
sit on my throne
Damocles
worried up in woe
keep myself moving
waft wastes of carrion
sight Camelot skyline as pall
town square bears hooverville
both sides are appalled by each other
survivors see beast with brigands
holy sword en route on death march
mob coalesces in desperation
Percival steps forward
introduction as former round member
promoting the beast Lancelot as the same
tensions simmer over shared Mordred hate


Category
Poem

Seligman’s Bells

Introduction

The study of the human mind
hasn’t always been kind
to our four-legged friends

but experiments
that could not be conducted today
were not without their wisdoms.

Phase One

Inspired by Pavlov, Seligman
wanted to test classical conditioning,
but instead of salivation, 
he wanted depression.

The dogs were strapped to harnesses.
At the ring of a bell, an electric shock
was delivered to their bodies
they were powerless to stop.

Over time, at the ring of that bell,
Seligman took note of the dogs,
ears low, tail sagging, laying down whimpering
before the shock would hit.

Phase Two

Depressed dogs now unharnessed
were placed in a large crate
with a low barrier dividing it in two.
On one side of this barrier, the floor
was wired to administer more shocks,
but the other side,
nothing more than a simple leap away,
was safe.
At the ring of the bell,
these dogs just stood there and took it.

They had learned
                  if you try to run
there is no escape
                  if you try to bark
there is no escape
                  if you try to fight
there is no escape
                  if you try to save yourself…
There. Is. No. Escape.

Control Group

Then a second group of dogs
was brought into the mix,
placed directly in the crate
when a bell would ring
and they’d be shocked from the floor.
                    
                            Once.
                                                         Twice.

                                                                        These dogs quickly learned
                                                                        how a simple leap
                                                                        over a really small barrier
                                                                        at the sound of a bell
                                                                        delivered them from harm.

Interpretation

When life teaches you
that you are fucked
no matter what you do,
you just kinda stop trying.

Conclusion

I see her texting on her phone
        Boyfriend
    We go a day without saying hello
            She doesn’t care anymore
        She still smiles
                Kindness isn’t attraction
            Asks me how my day is
                    These are not signals
                    she was never into you
                    you’re desperate to feel important
                    this is all the two of you will be

She’s never had her phone on the floor before
yet I’ve seen it twice today.
The other side must mean something,
a place I may never be.

Or am I just projecting doom
on answers I’ll never know
if I never venture to ask?
A simple leap of faith.

No, I’m afraid of the rejection,
afraid of exposing myself again
afraid of trying to feel happy, content,
meaningful,
loved,
wanted,
saved.

And I’m afraid I’m hearing bells.


Category
Poem

Shay

Pink and red hair, sharp pole on their keychain, a knife necklace. 
They rage and laugh and sing doing the dishes.
We confide in each other that we’re both down to smoking two or three times a day.
A friend that gets you, that protects you. 
I think that one day I’ll write a song about you,
like Graceland Too.


Category
Poem

Relic

Accruing an archive of dust and misdeeds,

Like an antique childhood,
We persist in softened marble;
A calcium reliquary in glittering finery and gossamer webs.
This grandiose year,
Looped in centipedes,
Has been half menagerie, half mausoleum.
A sleight of shaky hands.


Category
Poem

business as usual

another weekend
in the big-shouldered city
only thirteen dead
out of seventy-seven
shot with no remorse or thought


Registration photo of Les the Mess for the LexPoMo 2023 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

Betwixt

In, out, over, done?
Which of us will win someone;
Under morning sun?