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Will Storck  Mar 2013
Sycamore
Will Storck Mar 2013
Laughter & glitter
Sunshining through straight white teeth – voice unheard of
With a smile to make any man slither over
Cutting soft stomachs open
Driving out with sticks and leaves and rocks
And leaving me with the tab
How like them to err for the sake of error
Terrible and true
Acuity bound
It’s feeding time at the zoo &
There’s no one to take this noose off around my neck
We were swimming in the gulf when she asked
Why create when there’s so much to destroy?
My hands their play things too
Toys ordained from disdain sustained
By tight men in tight suits
Watching us from Ivory Towers
What a relief
& the power trips of the circus beneath them
Reaching out with viral irony I scream
Out to the heavens heaven doesn’t take collect calls
& here she is connecting souls to mates
Correcting hate and abating disgrace worldwide
Webs intangible but thought to be hooked
To the hearts that spun them
Free flowing love & peace to cut my noose hung from
The sycamore tree
As for me what more could please
Disease eradicated
People educated
Our lives illustrated not by blood off a bayonet
But by regret eliminated
Fat cats in high homes with low self esteem would seem
Just as happy to see her redacted from the text books
Crooked lies straightened & the sad thing is they
Trick us fine serfs to mitigate others in their organized ignorance
Leaving us in the dark to elbow for clues
Groping the dust blind &
Hurting ourselves with ***** fingernails scratching
She shouts like a car crash &
Everyone’s at the scene drawn to attention
By flashing red & blue
Cashing their moral chips for a peepshow
Their smiles use less muscles than frowns but take twice the effort
Affecting deflections of accusations
People listen & how couldn’t they?
Her words lifting chins like a rope over a branch
But this time the tree’s on fire
The Tower’s burning & she’s cutting all the safety nets
Like she cut the rope off around my neck
Christine  Jul 2010
on the moon
Christine Jul 2010
It's true that when the moon glows brightest
Incidents of ****** rise.
But when you can't see the stars out here
You have to take some risks.

Modern-day Rippers can catch me if they like.
I'll be too distracted by the bright hole in the sky.
You know when you look through a paper towel roll
And it's all black
And there's just that bright circle of escaping light at the end?
Maybe the moon is our escape.

Like I said, I'd lie down and stare at the stars
But the lights here make that difficult
And who knows when the sprinklers will go off.

Instead I'll pretend I'm an astronaut
The Argonauts and I, haha.
We'll find out what's beyond our paper towel tube existence
Via slingshots and arrows.

A lunar eclipse is a beautiful thing
Except that it covers the escape portal.
We must ask the gods:
How will we get out
When you put your hands over it?
How will we seek greater things?

There are no stars here.
No pinpricks have penetrated this world
Pins pricked so the gods can have a peepshow
And don't all have to share the window.

Maybe the ****** rates go up
To entertain them.
- From on love and other twisted things
Arlene Corwin May 2018
Given the popularity of tattoos, beards, shaven heads, holes in the body...et al,  I'm enclosing this highly relevant observation written first in 2002, revised in 2004 and now again in 2018.  
            People Get Tattoos

People get tattoos because

They think that there’s no change,

Because they’re vain, in love:

They think they choose, because

They’ve no idea at all

The rain in Spain lies mainly

In the plain,

That muscle turns

And what was breast or chest and firm,

De-firms, deforms

With budding bicep rose

Becoming wrinkled, wilted posy of-the-elbows.



I suppose it’s all to do

With time and how we throw

Away our energies, with time

Outgrowing side- and peepshow

We all worshipped once with gusto.



Oh, tattoo, you are a symbol

Of myopia and youth,

A cockeyed view of truth

That lets us down.



Still, people will demand tattoos,

Refusing all discussion

Until gusto gets to be disgust.

Nothing one can do

Except boo-hoo

This triste refrain to all who’ll listen;

Self abstain , and be a witness.

People Get Tattoos 1.18.2004 revised from 6.17.2002  re-revised 5.22.2018 A Sense Of The Ridiculous II;; Definitely Didactic; Arlene  Nover Corwin
Vanity?  Vanity.

— The End —