03122016

just before
dawn broke
your invisible
face
appeared in my
head while I was
sleeping.
the venue was blue
with the quiet complacency
of your demure voice
peacefully conveying –
prepossessing verses
to hold in my hand
but they float into
esoteric circles-
into the locked clubhouse
secured
for select members
only
 

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I watch the
locomotion of oranges and limes
bobbing around a sunken
ladle
in a sea of grain alcohol-
realizing the more I refresh
the more intriguing the scene-

party fare disguised in a sticky garbage can
on the lawn crowned with red solos
each adorned with confident claws
lounging and laid on the
spring grass.
All the while:
consummate amateurs prey
upon the L’air du temps lambs
incessant with giggles
and Ultra Bright smiles
glow in the dark.
UnderclassMEN cannot resist
unfledged, fresh meat delivered at
their Levi draped feet.
Frat sweethearts dressed older
bolder a n d endowed
Frat brothers COCKsure,
rocked a n d cocked
BFF’s lust to view
Gamma Phi
the third brightest star
in the constellation
which takes me –
Not them
by the hand
leading
to a capricious ingénue envisage

acute bibliography for a prospective future

I wasn’t aware 
the capacious blinds overhanging the front windowpanes
 are slanted just enough to allow
the neighbors an explicit view
                                   inside my house.
the hail of heartbeats
banging against the hurricane #5 glass
must’ve stopped the rein of ricochets no 
longer taking credit for “yard of the month”. 
Questions asked
                            a n d ignored. 
Gossip and wonder penetrate the 
 radiant barrier roof.
whispers hanging from the blooming magnolia tree – 
whispers on the winding walkways
 They witnessed the tawny bricks 
 stacked ever so politely in the front driveway before
being bundled, projected– propagated into a
 perfect subway pattern meeting and greeting right angles
into shelter walls
but
hand prints were mirrored historically into the concrete foundation –
 mapping an 
acute bibliography for a prospective future. 
If the window treatments were other 
than fingerprinted ivory white -
would the pathetic shouts of mercy
transcend into lyrical verses or 
uttered contractual versions of an expired lease
 with notice of eviction?
When I peer through the glass 
front to back –the express tunnel would
polarize any promise of “good” feng shui. 
the raging fires were too close to the waves
 washing the tears over the slippery floors?
 I didn’t
want the sympathetic visitors with lustrous apple pies
                    and prostrate sheriffs dictating
 arrogant orders of intimidation 
 because
“vacancy” hung on the freshly enameled red front door – 
implementing the exorcism
for my future, my plans, my dreams,
                                               myself 

The concerns were unwarranted. 
No one asked for the unanswered prayers or 
faint echoes turning deadbolts or
disarming security alarm sirens
 
 Hollow houses do not 
require supported occupancy permits
on every killum beige wall - in every room.

 Just because I bought
 it
 doesn’t mean I have
 to live in
 it







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may not be reprinted without permission.



incorporeal treasures

You gifted me hope
an invaluable commodity
of the incorporeal treasures with the silver and blue ribbons
stacked politely inside pristine pyramids

resembling the mystic gild and glimmer
at Dillard’s.
The display shortened my gasp for air
they are:
largest to smallest
easy to climb – hard to grasp
unreachable flimsy filigree edges that continuously tilt
side to side
from my white bread
PH-PA polished and manicured fingers

Box #3 sitting next to a brilliant star

but as the
Aspirant – I chose Box #2
Zonked***

It repressed
shattered an d disappointed
a fragment of the hope.
The type A crown of glory and thorns
I wear impassively on my head
tilted into my brows
stopping me where I stand.
Halted from holding
both hands out,
they are now kindly
placed behind my back

arripuerit

impressions
incongruent hits
discernable
bemused by intangible
masks
I can’t see who is
interring the black
demons
under rocks?
under sheets?
behind you?
inside you?
oneiric tape
clicks- one slide
then another
slipping between
the grasp of
now
and –

arripuerit
to me
 

 

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The blue Olivetti typewriter

 

The blue Olivetti typewriter
Let words fall where they were
supposed to without the inhibitions and tribulations
hanging – dragging
fog
inoffensive
lyrics bounding from the swing reckoned with burnished chain
fresh from Miller Hardware.

It didn’t matter if the breeze
blew
your starched and frilly dress into your face
as long as your skinny legs continued to pump the flash into
your new life.
It didn’t matter what the neighbor’s thought – Why would I care about what the neighbor’s thought?

The blue Olivetti typewriter
Slammed unkind verses
clicked intense verbiage – the 18k watch wound tight
evidence of the spring snapping befell an uncommon reflex
inside of you.
Should I put it out there? Will everyone know I can’t tell time?
Shifty-Shifty gave it an A

doubts were winners
sanctions in bits to puzzle into logic
leadership became a vessel of easy passage – fallen bloomers outsize my capacity

The blue Olivetti typewriter
prospered expressions into an adolescent eminence
I didn’t know that I didn’t know – but it was alright with the ecosphere.
Shunning allocation due to a Hartley on a billboard
It wasn’t created to share venal sequestered contemplations
The assignment had to be presented
The class was paid for with sweat applause rattled the monogrammed oxford shirt pink souls are not for sale (can’t believe I remember using that expression)

The blue Olivetti typewriter
Became a moth ball overcoat
Heavy – loose buttons hanging from cord….

The Goodwill doesn’t even want to deal with the shamble of inappropriate technology in a humid southern state.

Who wears second hand underwear? especially last year’s model
Kevlar wrap road blocked phrases wrapped in a complicated compass-
Amplified by Jetson ways & means ringing a ca-ching, ca-ching to noisy editors

Electronically transmitted to the back of the closet
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Poetry final

 

What happened to Hostess Ho Ho’s?

There has been a horrible change in the beloved Hostess Ho Ho’s. I’ve been eating these since I was in middle school. The following link will take you to one of the first  –Hostess Ho Ho Commercial 1968.  

Ho Ho’s were always the upper echelon of snack, junk food. The reason I didn’t like Little Debbie Swiss Rolls is because the chocolate covering tasted like cardboard and the cake tasted dry. As a kid, Ho Ho’s came with an individual foil cover. I remember my heart beating madly as I peeled the foil back and the waft of chocolate would fly by my nose. The chocolate was smooth and would melt around your fingers. The cake and creme were divine. I can remember savoring each and every bite.

The Hostess Ho Ho’s I purchased at the local grocery store last week (January 2016), are wrapped in a ballooned white plastic – like a tampon! The chocolate covering taste like cheap car wax. In fact, the flat bottom is barely covered at all. It looks like our dachshund’s bare belly. The chocolate cake is almost stale. You know, the kind of stale that sticks in your throat and only a fire hose can wash down.Hostess Ho Ho's

Everything that was good in the world is now made cheaper, quicker and with less calories. The manufacturer’s do not care if the product taste like wax. Kids of this time period would not have the comparison of my childhood memories.

I moved to Texas from Pennsylvania in 1984. Ho Ho’s were not available on the grocer shelves in North Houston at that time. I would actually have my grandmother mail me boxes of Ho Ho’s from Pittsburgh. In other words, I’ve been wolfing these delicacies down for many decades.

#Hostess, please hear my plea and make the good Ho Ho’s again. I am willing to pay for good chocolate, fresh cake and the foil wrapper – which obviously keeps this product fresh.

 

 

 

 

Social media should not be real life

There is a veil of allowance to express yourself on social media. Being the conditioned politically correct puppets we have to be in the workplace doesn’t allow you to be “you”. It is a rare occurrence to encounter an Account Executive presenting photos of his toddler dressed in camo, holding a shotgun at a meeting with a prospective client.

Facebook allows a hidden personality to troll around the town square in their underwear. Think about it – a casual acquaintance becomes your Facebook friend. He may be a neighbor or work associate. You know them in a casual or professional set of  circumstances. You have never seen their Christmas tree, swam in their pool or broke bread at their table.

Workplace superiors, presenting themselves as control freak, power happy sharks post their controversial political views and off color jokes. The entitlement of rank appears to convey preeminence in online chatter. Walking a fine line is often exhibited to maintain “control”.

Religious practices and promotion are prevalent among Facebook postings. In an about face, quite a few confessions of being an atheist and agnostic pop up from time to time. It is a rare occurrence for break room conversation to erupt into someone proclaiming they don’t believe in God. No one wants the bank tellers or cosmetic counter manager to return to their stations all shook up. Mama always taught us to not talk about sex, religion or politics, but social media is a ripe forum for it.

Neighbors never fail to surprise. NextDoor.com is a community site available to a neighborhood to post info of interest to the residents. Every once in awhile a comment in reference to a playground will erupt with a posting in reference to some people should not have the right to have children! True or not, the statement is going to offend some folks. Instead of posting – “your neighbor parades around in their birthday suit with the blinds up”, go next door and tell him yourself.

Unfiltered assertions published from the comfort of your phone, tablet or laptop should be qualified with the validation, “Would I make that comment to my friend, co-worker, neighbor, relative face to face? We should always feel free to express ourselves, but repercussions can also slam your ass when you least suspect it. We are all aware of the school teacher posting her semi nude photo at a beer bash. Drunk posting is as bad as drunk dialing. Unless you frequently break bread with your co-workers or neighbors, is it necessary for them to know every intimate philosophy or activity you participate in?

Delusions of grandeur are portrayed with banners, videos and attachments. If you think or believe otherwise, you are deemed an idiot. Why don’t you tell me how you really feel? These are the comrades you are riding cheek to cheek next to in the commuter van! Now, you know the PTA president would think you’re an imbecile because the “Rainy Day Plan” is the most ridiculous waste of time you’ve ever been roped into.

Before social media, we actually talked to each other. We didn’t text. We either met in person or spoke on the telephone. The human voice infers pitch to convey emotion. The human face conveys expression. We were able to gauge acceptance or annoyance with our conversation. We had a circle of friends for the “shooting range” and another set of friends for discussing analytical algorithms.

Talk!

Talk!

In an “about face” – I may not like what you have to say, but I will defend your right to say it till my death.” All I am saying is to “think” about what you are posting. Remember who your audience includes.

How many of your “friends” on social media would really be your friends if you were on a a deserted island together? Social media should not be real life. Real life should be a human exchange encompassing respect and compassion. Think – Woodstock!

 

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