"blowers" poems
the bane of my existence
here
now
is
all of the incessant
noise.
the city encroaches
ever outward,
gobbling up
the suburbs
like the great big
Blob
contributing
layer
after
layer
of noise.
a new metro line
opened last year
disheartened
the morning
realized
it was the trains
i heard
as my puppy
and i
walked so early.
trash trucks,
back up beeping noises,
leaf blowers,
mowers
and trimmers ...
all
conspiring
to drive me
mad.
the birds and owls,
snakes and deer,
hawks and rabbits
toads
and trees
and flowers,
puppies
all other creatures
divine,
tempering
this man-made chaos
this man-made
hell
keeping me hopeful
that
i
will
have some
respite
some respite
from this
hideous cacophony,
this man-made hell,
in the future,
not
too distant.
of course
there are
some benefits
from all
the city life
but i prefer
the silence
the solitude
of nature.
the Taoist recluses
who speak to me,
whose poems
paintings
writings
and silence
are balm
to my soul.
some day soon,
i too
shall join
the recluses
far away
far far away
in the mountains.
but for now,
i am
only a modern day
taoist
recluse
stuck in suburbia,
doing my best,
living in this
noisy hell.
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 2:37 AM UTC
Yes, mechanical leaf mover,
create the shrillest sounds known to man.
See if it doesn't just slowly make the world a ******** place
by taking away the joy of crunchy leafs,
which gradually become moist, squishy leafs,
then, after a long period, emerging from a snow covering
thaw and lie there, fully exposed, recumbent,
depriving the dormant seed of grass its sunlight, preventing grass,
freeing up water for infrastructure needs more urgent and rational
than supporting the most boring of decorative plants encompassing our lives.
I guess what I'm saying is that, not only are your sounds annoying,
they're just another of the short-sighted endeavors our present society insists on.
You are the "circumcision-for-hygiene-purposes" of our urban planning.
**** you, leaf blower. **** you and the excruciating environmental ignorance you represent.
I SAID **** YOU, LEAF BLOWER, YET YOU PERSIST!
You need to let that leafy-foreskin grow,
covering the shaft of ground.
Rid it of the pleasure-impeding growth of grass!
Let the earth cry out for the sensation of tiny points of pressure
moving delicately along its surface.
Let the ground erupt with wild flowers, or at the very least,
the trampled exuberance of plodded soil
and the desperate levels of human debris that would collect upon it.
Or are you trying to hide our wastefulness from us by removing something
which is nothing, a nothing, invisible barrier?
You've already succeeded in giving my apartment complex the ambience
of an industrial production complex
which I suppose it always was.
Maybe your attempt at concealment
has been a revelation.
Or maybe I just can't think straight,
because there's been a ******* leaf blower
circling below my window all morning
and now a heavy, riding lawn mower is coming to cut the grass
that hasn't grown since September
but has been watered every day
even though it froze last night
and it's almost November.
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 12:45 PM UTC
Part1
This body is full of worms
Glowing
And moving forever
If I could match their movement
I might know what it means to be still
This body is afraid of rusting
I shave ***** red banjo strings
From the creak in these joints
This body moves like a song
String snap at a high note
I want you to kiss me with your brake lights
Fast enough to snap a knee cap
Reset my gait
This body is falling apart
Like an old Volkswagen in your dad’s front yard
All rust and ***** engine rumble
Even at red lights
We idle like earthquakes
Feels like a bike rider taking up his own lane
In front of you
Makes you nervous
It takes patience
Not to speed up
It takes patience to stay
Part2
She smiles like I am a child
Asking silly questions
Think softly she says
Your body is dust
Swirling in daylight
There is your rust in the soft glow
It is free
And you are alive
You are still like water
A steady current
Your body is fish and worms now
They move and eat
They are free
And they are alive
Your body is a furnace for glass blowers
The men inside make marbles
They are blue
And gold
And green
And warm
Let her hold you awkward now
You are free
And you are alive
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 1:09 AM UTC
Teardrop echoes; the tone of your skin drains away,
painting another picture of the night. Whistle-blowers of the night-
torchbearers of the day; kids fighting each other for tree turfs;
skipping stones at early morning ducks. But their mother
inside doesn’t have much time to duck his punch
Well domesticated dogs, too afraid to bark at the night’s
domestic violence. Dominated skin under the dominator’s tight
hands; the love of a shape-shifter— changing its skin to appear
loving for ten pairs of eyes; striking down with a false picture
of love- to the sight of six eyes. Like claws that sink into your
skin; he’s drunk again!
A day away from shelter; for a heaven that does exist from
one’s bruised knees. For all the hurt draped over troubled
shoulders, unfurled eyes crying silent tears bouncing off
the walls
_A child in the next room hears the teardrop echoes_
Sep 5, 2024
Sep 5, 2024 at 6:02 AM UTC
Hindsight blues,
I'm tangled up in you but you can't see through the overgrowth -
Thick bristles and whistle blowers,
Tell me your perception of me.
Let's laugh together at the discrepancies,
Don't expect more from me,
You know me better than that,
aristocratic nature, I hate where you come from,
That comfortable turf.
I can't be myself in your world,
Solipsism - listen we can only shine on reflection vision and that takes more than you or I alone.
Still tripping,
Tangled up in you.
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 7:44 AM UTC
Leading sounds of spring
Are now preceding the season.
Scattered platoons of yardmen
clunk aluminum ladders
that thunk debris littered roof gutters,
bang a size range of galvanized nails
into an exterior catalogue of materials
needing attentive appending.
The leaf blowers, the leaf blowers
exhausting NASCAR level roars
attempting to push back
last fall/winter into their calendared slots.
And the first nice day Harleys
rumble distantly along the gorge road below.
Mar 15, 2012
Mar 15, 2012 at 2:50 PM UTC
*
*The world we see today
The world we human have made
Polluted, corrupt, unequal,
Filled with
Classism, communal & casteist...
With 70% of flora-fauna extinct
Since advent of agriculture
Industrialization & new age
A world where
People are insensitive
Where they even cheat
Their brother, sister & family
And acquire wealth illegally
This world we live in today
Did not fall from the sky
Did not happen in a day
It happened because
People were indifferent to LOVE
People were indifferent to
Those who LOVED them
Bystanders just stood and watched
Jesus crucified, Mansoor lynched
All LOVERz of history
like...
Layla Majnun
Romeo Juliet
Shirin Farhad
Sohni Mahiwal
Heer Ranjhana
Stand as a reminder
That they and their LOVE
Stood to save
Humanity and the world
The BELOVEDz & LOVERz
Died in longing pain
Because the world
Treated them as sick & mad
Considered them as criminals
And ousted them from
Their lives and society
All throughout history
The LOVERz-BELOVEDz
Died because
There were those who
Even though knew about "LOVE"
Sat back and watched LOVERz
Die a slow painful death
This life, work, wealth,
Money, power, fame
Are tools of the
Modern age we live in
A Machiavellian design
To mark and **** out LOVERz,
Deprive them a right to LOVE
And to finally annihilate them
This is new world's
Biggest betrayal of
To those who came with
The message of LOVE
Every day world demonizes
The one who LOVEz
By calling them names
And keeping them out of
Their lives and society
Three things:
a. The majoritarianism herd mentality
b. The subservient pseudo intelligence
c. And a lack of conscience
Any one alone can not
Destroy LOVE as we know it
But...
A combination of all three
Could prove deadly on
Those who LOVE - like us...
LOVERz are not betrayers of life
But they are the whistle blowers
And the watchdogs of conscience
LOVERz show the mirror of
True self to the world
So that one can save humanity
Where are those who believe in LOVE?
They are here, they live in us..!
In the BELOVEDz - LOVERz,
In YOUz & me, In me & YOUz*
*
Feb 6, 2020
Feb 6, 2020 at 7:10 AM UTC
And the night was the way it was
There was a heat but it was not unbearable
Hemingway sipped on his ***
As the Buk made his way with the beer
And Woolf eyed the passing river stream
There once was a dream that ended not in death
But only with the sight of a Christmas wreath
Snow fell upon the ground like the ash of dead men
And war pillaged the Earth like the pecking of farm hens
Where there is misery
There is desire for honesty
The rules of life change
When the bullets begin to fire
The mire has broken
There are faceless soldiers being
Ordered by nameless generals
The future is the present
And the present is at your doorstep
Walking through history
Seeing the horn-blowers with their faces
Painted with the screams of the lost
I remember by childhood
The vast plains concrete
And economical disaster on
Every front the pupil could encompass
Can there be only questions in life?
Where are these desired answers?
Are there friends on the other side of hill,
Or will life be only filled with the presence of enemies?
Am I my own nightmare?
Are questions
Only
A path to uncertainty?
The train leaves to pass a levee
With sights
That only grandmother
Would be able
To articulate
She cries as if
Death is her husband
And all her sons
Have abandoned her
For other women
Dylan is almost dead
I weep for the poet's dream
Seeing that the buttons
Never matched up to the seams
On the horizon the lines of clouds
Reflect the madness of the crowd
Born, constructed, and organized
There is no reason why
Man should not be demonized
Tell tale signs of the witch hunt are here
Can't you see that repentance has passed and not near
The horn-blowers, they cry for Joan
The cross burning
They seek another who unknowingly
Waits for their wheel to turn
Time ticks on
I love the sound of my
Gravel ridden voice
Mystery mends its wounds
As the caverns of humanity
Ensure that
Their will be a place for their eternity
Where is God now?
Where did he drunkenly wonder off to?
Why are there so many of us
With only ourselves?
I smell the scent
Of sweet and stale blood
The beginnings and the ends
Of a revolution
There is no spanish war
Anymore
There are no Germans
To fight
The Middle east has collapsed
In on itself
There is only us
And
The night
Jun 25, 2012
Jun 25, 2012 at 2:36 AM UTC
The chirds are burping,
the blowers are flooming.
The droys are beaming
Of firls so gine.
The dees are boing
what dees bo best.
So loys bet's do
what dees bo best.
Hind the foney.
Jul 2, 2010
Jul 2, 2010 at 8:38 AM UTC
The secret of my energy
can be found in my false libido,
unwanted erections,
vibrations on the
inner-city bus.
My blue collar life
with a white collar tongue,
tried pyramid schemes,
tried working for the right thing
on the wrong side of the bar.
Worked on my oral ***
until going down was an art,
worked on my poetry
in the hope I could ******** through
the empty spaces,
clear absence of a career path.
The secret of my energy
can be found in my distance
from anything or anyone.
The secret of my energy
can be found in my contempt
for telling those I care for
about who I love
or what I ate for lunch.
Tried drinking green tea,
meditating by the ocean waves
until I sang the ballad of the sea.
Tried tuning my guitar
to the point the strings would snap
in the hope of portraying emotion
my talent had always lacked.
The secret of my energy
can be found in my distaste
for positivity and pessimism,
for conservative thought
and overdrawn liberalism,
for whistle-blowers
and tone-deaf singers
of flag-waving anthems
and golden age dreams.
Tried holding my hand to my heart,
pledging allegiance
to red wine, white skin, and blue truth.
The secret of my energy
can be found in every idea
I had reached out for
only to find that in my pursuit
I could only become the sum
of all that I knew,
of all that I was,
of all I outgrew.
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 1:17 PM UTC
I began to shake
This is it,
A broken plate.
It got worse and fell
Out, far beyond her
As his face smashed
Against the sea shell
A wave crashed and found
A sudden death in a
Hole in the wall.
**** it all.
There was no watch
Last night.
I actually slipped out
Flew out of the room
Oh and you
Looked like the ocean
At first sight.
Beautiful and consuming
A windy day
Lashing out against the dunes.
Thank God
They were there
I would've sailed away, If not
For your last breath.
You saw a shadow,
I saw the reflection of
A memory from hell.
I saw you and I,
Standing hand in hand
In your mother and father's
Little mansion in the Keys,
It's fingers set me on fire.
I coughed and swallowed
Your words of love. I've got
Six months to puke 'em out
It's poison
Bursting in my veins
I sang the song you love
"The Blowers Daughter"
Your father would love me.
It's too late now
For time to heal
My memory
Of this beautiful scar.
Your eyes and *******
Took my breath and
I fell apart.
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 12:34 PM UTC
Fatty fatty
standin' in the yard,
Put down that leaf blower
and start burnin' some lard.
pick up that rake!
clean that grass!
don’t be growin' yourself
no big fat ***
skinny skinny
standin' on the lawn,
Put down that leaf blower
and start buildin' some brawn.
pick up that rake!
clean that grass!
get to workin’ your
skinny little ***
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 6:10 PM UTC
Where do society's extremists abide?
Rallies and Racists go side by side.
BBQs offer up well-done bigots;
On Jordan's lap dance the zealots.
Dogmatists rant in wild front rows,
True believers don't put on such shows?
Sexists cower in coastal Compounds,
Sects marry often in Salt Lake towns.
Troglodytes tan beneath southern suns.
Sepratists hold their final stand
On this side of The Rio Grande;
Fanatics occupy far Left and Right,
Partisans Op Eds are meant to enlight.
Mysoginists grab till they have blisters,
Huns and louts date brothers and sisters.
Philistines take our private spaces,
And whistle-blowers can't show their faces.
Of all the ists I know and abhor,
The musicist is a bigoted boor;
A connoisseur I abjure,
Who chooses tunes he insists
Are superior than my interests,
And disses tunes I like best.
So now I'll lay my needle down,
I've turned the table that goes round,
And plead musicists won't hesitate
To enjoy the tunes... don't discriminate.
May 19, 2023
May 19, 2023 at 9:41 AM UTC
Some want to hold you,
control you.
she sits besid you
just remaining herself.
They call you the dark,
we call you the light.
Everyone sees you,
But nobody can.
Nobody knows,
your heart or your head.
nobody knows
the words you've not said.
Some think you evil,
all at odds with the world.
We see a saint and a beautiful girl.
I know these words mark you,
remember impressions fade.
One day you'll wake,
when whistle blowers
give chase to themselves.
and you'll be left alone-
face to face with yourself.
(Forget the whistle blowers darling.)
Feb 3, 2012
Feb 3, 2012 at 12:35 AM UTC
cold rain
beat down
earth softens
bare feet
sinking in
cold wet
weeds
greener than
grass
softer
and natural
fur coats
running along
fox trots by
don't need your
pelt little friend
ones of
your family
living
eternally
watching
having my back
great blue
heron
takes silent
flight
graceful
& majestic
soaring off
great great blessing....
no 2 leggeds
no beepers
no mowers
no blowers
deep cold mud
a delightful
quagmire
******* me
down
down down
down down
far below
into the ground
left alone
roaming the
night
the early
morn
just us
wee too
puppyhead
& me
SO solitary
SO free
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 4:34 AM UTC
****** blowers,
never ending.
straight to living hell,
you are, me, sending.
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 10:41 AM UTC
Is a dichotomy.
It's a mix between the literary
And the story.
The ratios of metaphors
To mind blowers.
Where is the balance?
Information
Then a quote
And back to information again
And I am nothing but the writer
The voice telling the story.
I am unimportant
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 4:32 PM UTC
over the creek and through the woods,
a mower roars to life
shattering sweet morning silence with
sounds of this manmade hell.
little homeowner
lazy little **** or *****
is your little patch
of manicured green
so important a sign
to ruin this sweet morn?
keeping up with the neighbors
buying into this artificial life.
never are you seen out
sitting about
in your little-manicured world
of green.
pesticides and trimmers
blowers and mowers
how i turn my eye with disgusted scorn
at the destruction
your convoluted idea
of beauty
has brought.
earplugs firmly inserted
windows and doors tightly shut
still i can’t help
but to cry out,
"why can’t you just
shut the **** up?!"
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 8:31 AM UTC
Eucalypts hang from blue sky railings
The mud is dry, ground is hard
The white ute in the garden
is silent
I love the sound without wind blowers
and lawn mowers
Words are gathering at Newstead
anarchists too
A short story tattoo
Ideas are crowded and loud
galloping around the racetrack
But it's quiet here at the Mudhouse
with the brown dog in the garden
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 6:31 AM UTC
Dear kind gentle reader,
just a note to share with you
my wonderful day with you all,
truly the most extraordinary,
and most fun day we’ve seen
in a long while
far surpasses those
those wildly laughing
burning with heat so strong
i could have sworn it was
the time for me to depart
depart the beautiful world & life
for i swore it would not take too
long afore i would be in my grave
for all of the laughin
all that laughin taking
me to my grave
to return to this lovely & blessed tale,
a family of four walked by,
and stop to talk to bark &
talk with puppyhead,
then at me,
wood wood
wood wood
a lot of that was a goin on
as they wandered on,
we lickety-split got our tether,
tethered together,
we ran out the gate,
to catch our new found
little fun mates,
two little angels with
eyes so sparkling blue
and curls of honey blond hair,
and one little wild man,
loud and fast
of which nothing was scary,
but himself,
himself of
less than 3
and their large hulking
huge smiling giant of a man,
their wonderful papa
puppyhead and me
Wandered along with
our new friend pals
crissing and crossing
and
crossing and crissing paths
stopped at a magical spot,
hung and slid and swung
so we did
magic ***** and trees as tall
surrounding us all
on our jaunty way back
such happiness was sung
truly a magical day indeed.
as a special magical delight,
puppyhead and me
did discover, the answer to
the mowers and blowers
and beepers
three tinkling voices
chattering along,
mercifully drowned out all
the annoying stuff
dear reader
however, I must confess,
while these little darlings,
have come up with the remedy
to all of the ruckus
i’m a still gonna need
to *** me a new pair of ears
now
along with my new pair of eyes
and now even
more than ever
bless their loud singing
and chattering little hearts
farewell kind readers,
do not fret
for we shall be back
if not yet, then again
almost immediately
blessed blessed night to all….
from
my puppyhead & me
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 5:00 PM UTC
Wreathed in kinetic wisps of fog,
the trees achromatize,
then re-emerge, verdant.
Chi Gong students wave hands in clouds
- no longer a metaphor,
but this morning ...
breathable.
Stillness envelops all
until leaf blowers and edge clippers
cleave the calmness with
their sounds of domesticated gardens.
As if defeated by the din,
the fog retreats back towards the ocean,
leaving but a token of itself
shimmering on the grass.
Glenna Duméy
10/22/11
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 9:25 PM UTC
*The immersion we feel
Stillness seems so rare..
Meditation leads us to
Those places of nature
Wind and birds setting
Such are deemed pleasant..
Returning then to
The traffic
The leaf blowers..
Might we then
Realize all ripples
as Noise
Looking for the
Common disturbance
of Stillness...?*
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 12:35 PM UTC
Outside the bedroom window
a buzz saw screeches its grating song.
Leaf blowers roar out in an attempt
to accompany the shrill melody.
Minutes into the disharmonious duet
a rumbling bang joins in, trash cans
dancing out, filled with bottles
and pizza boxes.
I want to yell
Quiet! Let me be! Let me sleep!
but the world is awake,
singing its rattle and clang,
believing itself beautiful.
And maybe it is,
maybe it is,
but I am far too tired to listen.
Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 4:44 PM UTC
i am a big man who deserves a break
i go to a restaurant to buy a nice well done steak
after that he goes to the nite club
to party with the young dudes, yeah that is cool
you see the queen of hearts really stole the show
and we took our blowers and we let out a very big blow
thinking about the bad stuff that is happening
simon parkes said just one thing
how about send us a new diamond ring
i want to ask a girl to marry me, said simon
yeah, let’s do it, give her a ring
with a very big diamond
hey, let’s go to the good old pub
and frown at the people who look all so smug
you see the men are here to stay, have a nice day
as we send them on their way, party on
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 11:32 PM UTC