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"curlers" poems
Twas a southern Christmas and from the front porch to the outhouse, everyone was stirring, even a field mouse. Socks were hung over the fire place with care, hoping they would soon be dry there. Grand maw was in the kitchen holding juniors nose, so he would take some caster oil I suppose. Mom was running around with curlers in her hair, if old Saint Nick saw her he would get quiet a scare. Dad and his brother in law were out of the house, hunting for a trophy buck to brag about. While grand paw was out in the barn, turning the yearly corn harvest into moon shine. A little home made spirit to give all some good cheer. So when you think Christmas is strange at your house, just remember how we celebrate Christmas down south.
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Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 2:12 AM UTC
Twas A Southern Christmas
iPad Love 4:49 AM, and by the light of the silvery moon and our iPad screens turned down low, we snuggle side by side, our fingers glide so softly upon each, each of our own devices, this technique, it could be an app, teaching how to caress a human being. No need to tell you in sound, out loud, how you turn my heart upside down, I'll just post a note of appreciation on Facebook, you will see it faster, and besides, you got your earphones on and could not hear my sweet nothings if I screamed them in high definition. The newspaper arrives on the electric "doorstep" - no longer will do we venture outside in pink bathrobes and curlers, or boxer shorts, a legal gesture of neighborly disdain. Americana, losing another icon, as well as insuring the unemployment of thousands of newspaper deliverers, boys and girls, on bicycles, their first job, now obsolescent. Your feet, so cozy and warm, touching mine, the sensation, lovely and fine, duly recorded in a poem that on my iPad I scribble, as my typos disappear, out of sight. your ear, I nibble, something you hate and I love, but electronically, it's done with no fuss or muss, and I don't even have to move! Sadly, I can find no app that will bring the warmth of a cup of coffee to my night table, and the gun metal casing of this invention is chilly, but still Steve, with almost God like vision, you brought us closer in ways prior unimagined. So baby, shut it down, turn me on, make me warm for real, glide your now practiced fingertips on my grizzled cheek, whisper a phony "ugh," cause I know, you will read this iPad love poem and cherish us for evermore. Nothing, something, even as thin as my iPad 2(!) will come between us and the holiness, the uniqueness of the human touch. 2011
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May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 4:30 PM UTC
iPad Love
iPad Love 4:49 AM, and by the light of the silvery moon and our iPad screens turned down low, we snuggle side by side, our fingers glide so softly upon each, each of our own devices, this technique, it could be an app, teaching how to caress a human being. No need to tell you in sound, out loud, how you turn my heart upside down, I'll just post a note of appreciation on Facebook, you will see it faster, and besides, you got your earphones on and could not hear my sweet nothings if I screamed them in high definition. The newspaper arrives on the electric "doorstep" - no longer will do we venture outside in pink bathrobes and curlers, or boxer shorts, a legal gesture of neighborly disdain. Americana, losing another icon, as well as insuring the unemployment of thousands of newspaper deliverers, boys and girls, on bicycles, their first job, now obsolescent. Your feet, so cozy and warm, touching mine, the sensation, lovely and fine, duly recorded in a poem that on my iPad I scribble, as my typos disappear, out of sight. your ear, I nibble, something you hate and I love, but electronically, it's done with no fuss or muss, and I don't even have to move! Sadly, I can find no app that will bring the warmth of a cup of coffee to my night table, and the gun metal casing of this invention is chilly, but still Steve, with almost God like vision, you brought us closer in ways prior unimagined. So baby, shut it down, turn me on, make me warm for real, glide your now practiced fingertips on my grizzled cheek, whisper a phony "ugh," cause I know, you will read this iPad love poem and cherish us for evermore. Nothing, something, even as thin as my iPad 2(!) will come between us and the holiness, the uniqueness of the human touch. 2011
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41
A dream came true today But was shattered just the same And I can see it now A room of pastels A long line of stern faces A delicate, submissive vase Ma's in her curlers Putting her head down Pretending to sleep Pa's reassuring quiet His slippers tidy by the bedside Putting on a mask of peace A crease has grown in the mattress Cause symmetry is strong and clean I saw this image even clearer When I set down my wreath Even more so than when I Was scrambling for words to speak Twilight's glow of life Was upon the snow that night And never before have I Fused so fully with such still silence I watched my mute shadow As I glided through the rooms A vacuous face, but beaming heart Guided me to a cerebral place That suddenly paled in comparison To any word, rhyme, or thought of mine I lost my sense of touch As I fondled the key and turned the lock It was right where it's always been Unused, dependable, like clockwork Unlike me I sat down in a firm chair that fit like a glove But I wouldn't be its heir Instead I went above to where Sparks of light shoot and drift Like a darting pen in the hands Of a boy who's yet to learn to write Here I can't be picked apart While there, not a creature stirred Not even my heart
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Nov 25, 2011
Nov 25, 2011 at 8:45 PM UTC
Orange Roses
wandering across the splinters of squandered seasons the Hajj of the lost ones completes a broken circle returning with hope to burrow back into the safety of desecrated graveyards welcomed home to the embrace of a cadaverous cloak and the kiss of carrion smudged lips, Hajji's eye the decrepit visage of criminal depravity germination of this Arab Spring mocks us aromas of jasmine elude us emulsified concrete clogs our nostrils burning eyes filled with asbestos dust form grateful blinders to the ruination of reason betrayed arcane remnants of our life lay inert in the open ****** of fractured habitations amidst jumbled rubble the decaying carcasses of razed buildings boast grotesque sculptures of twisted rebar cradling artifacts of a past life pink hair curlers splashed with sickly blood grown mold scavenged bicycles limp on banished parts smashed skulls of dolls weep, her dismembered limb reaches for a lost child’s nursing hand the charred remains of a Persian rug maps the scale of a city’s deconstruction and a frayed regions disconsolation electric luxury flowing water the friendly bustle of the street bespeak expired memories foretelling an unimaginal future sectarian strife enforces  a communal solitary confinement in cold blood we willingly murdered compassion we butchered trust we euthanized our common humanity constructing buildings is easy rebuilding ourselves impossible Music Selection: Segovia, Capricho Arabe Oakland 5/13/14 jbm
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May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC
Return to Homs
slipping little feet into mothers shoes lipstick deforms little pink lips plastic curlers tangle knots hands wiggle free from oversize cloths that child is me i am that child today bewildered by our society a child i stay.
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Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 1:50 AM UTC
dress up
They're digging up the cobbles in our street, moving them to a classier area. We'll be given tarmac, black and soft in the sun. Yes, even here it shines - on men's vests. They're red faced, drinking from lager cans, while their women finger scarved curlers. At least, that's what others think they see. But neighbours do talk with us. There's a code of decency, though Mum says, 'some have hearts as black as the tarmac'. There's a hierarchy, in minds and heads, if not in pockets. Some day the toffs will turf us out, gentrify our street. We'll be moved, filed vertically, pigeon lofts in the sky. Then they'll bring our cobbles back.
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Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 3:19 PM UTC
Cobblers
While driving down a country road One dark and lonely night My engine began to spit and sputter From a strange and mysterious light I saw this little green spaceman With antennas on his head He was standing beside my window And this is what he said "Take me to your leader, Or we will end your life" So I did exactly what he said And I took him to my wife When I got home my wife was mad And asked me where I've been I told her about my crazy night And about those little green men She asked if I'd been drinking And I don't drink a drop About that time that spaceman yelled, "Okay now, everybody stop" Now my wife was really ****** And said, "Who do you think you are?" She grabbed him by his spaceman ear And drug him from that car Now, there she was in curlers With that spaceman by his ear I think he might have peed himself As he stood there in all his fear Now you may not believe my story But I've got a souvenir When they beamed that spaceman back to his ship My wife held on to his ear So if you ever see a UFO Don't scream and run for your life Just take him to your leader And by leader I mean, my wife
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Oct 20, 2010
Oct 20, 2010 at 1:30 PM UTC
Take Me to Your Leader
The street lamp flickers Thick fog hangs like custard A woman in regulation knickers is cutting the mustard. She hangs round the fading light Vinegar drapes around the bar she is eating chips at midnight while her teeth soak in a jar her curlers retired years back when the colour made a sad farewell she stands under the Union Jack where the church rings its bell. They were together once, a time when she was not such a fright he saw red but did not commit a crime even then she ate chips at midnight.
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Jul 22, 2017
Jul 22, 2017 at 10:15 AM UTC
Eating Chips at Midnight
if girls are so good at painting their faces i wish we could turn them loose on a real canvas see what they really mean when they paint those black lines every girl is a painter she needs a real canvas da vinci is lurking behind those sultry lashes trapped in the eyeliner-barbed wire a concentration camp of cover-up clipping their own wings willingly with eyelash curlers - every girl is a painter. i wonder what faces they would paint if they stopped focusing on their own face i wonder if they would still have clown-smiles and slanted eyes i am looking for the next van gogh but he has camouflaged himself and is dying in front of an empty mirror.
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Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 3:46 PM UTC
every girl is a painter
The Real Diva that most of us knew. Wasn't those fools on television fighting and destroying homes. She cherished. She loved. And defended the most. Don't believe me. Create a disturbance when her children's are close. And watch her secret service kick in. Even if you're a friend. This is when the friendship might end. The Real Diva don't always care about opinions. She journey to the store with curlers in her hair. Many of us knew mothers exactly like her. And she was quick to point out honesty and truth. Remove those curlers and she had gorgeous hair. The Real Diva make her kids friends feel comfortable. That many thought of her as a second mom. She just were feel with warmth. And quick to keep them in control. Wasn't afraid to speak her mind. When your friends tried to get out of line. She fed them. Even washed them. She protected them like they were her own. Mothers today make you wonder. When you see kids getting hurt. Or mothers getting tired of  taking care of them. Oh, we sure our mothers felt that way. But these was old school moms that made away. The Real Diva left a mark upon our lives. The kind most men hope to welcome in their lives. As their lady. As their wife. Come to think about it. Some do exist. We notice them. But hate to give them credit.
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Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 11:14 AM UTC
The Real Diva
I sat on the front doorstep with Lydia of her parents' flat on the ground floor looking onto the Square she had her thin chin in the palms of her small hands her mother's words still hanging in the air from moments before Paddington Railway Station? you want to go all that way to see a ****** train station? yes Lydia said we want to see the trains that go to Scotland her mother stared at us as if we started speaking in a foreign tongue it isn't Paddington it's King Cross train station she said is it? I said yes it is she said I should know her dad goes there now and then but not often enough can we go there? Lydia asked what for? her mother said all that way just to see trains to Scotland? yes we said jointly and how are you going to get there walk? she said go by bus or train I said have you the money? because I sure haven't she said or underground train I said be quicker have you the money then? her mother asked I stared at her hair pinned in curlers red lips arms folded cigarette in between her fingers I can get some from my old man he'll give me some I said if you can get the money Lydia's mother said you can go but don't be late home or I’ll slap your backside my girl and she went in and slammed the door I looked at Lydia beside me well are we going? will your dad give you the money? I've got some in the blue metal money box he made me I said enough to go to Kings Cross station? should have wish we had enough to go to Scotland she said maybe one day I said smiling she looked at me let's go then she said so we got off the front doorstep and made out way across the Square leaving her mother's words behind smelling adventure in the air.
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Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 3:19 AM UTC
SMELLING ADVENTURE.
I sat on the front doorstep with Lydia of her parents' flat on the ground floor looking onto the Square she had her thin chin in the palms of her small hands her mother's words still hanging in the air from moments before Paddington Railway Station? you want to go all that way to see a ****** train station? yes Lydia said we want to see the trains that go to Scotland her mother stared at us as if we started speaking in a foreign tongue it isn't Paddington it's King Cross train station she said is it? I said yes it is she said I should know her dad goes there now and then but not often enough can we go there? Lydia asked what for? her mother said all that way just to see trains to Scotland? yes we said jointly and how are you going to get there walk? she said go by bus or train I said have you the money? because I sure haven't she said or underground train I said be quicker have you the money then? her mother asked I stared at her hair pinned in curlers red lips arms folded cigarette in between her fingers I can get some from my old man he'll give me some I said if you can get the money Lydia's mother said you can go but don't be late home or I’ll slap your backside my girl and she went in and slammed the door I looked at Lydia beside me well are we going? will your dad give you the money? I've got some in the blue metal money box he made me I said enough to go to Kings Cross station? should have wish we had enough to go to Scotland she said maybe one day I said smiling she looked at me let's go then she said so we got off the front doorstep and made out way across the Square leaving her mother's words behind smelling adventure in the air.
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100
My summer sweats bloom from a grass rag, Scratch another hardly blasting out a calibrate, Can I break, strap out hacker doozy bluemoors, Caught from an out sound, an out frowned Blackening the coffin sweet cough lubricate, Shackle high tops on pipe dream loft shakers, Clover feelers, four hitter on lucky seven collar, Depth sin protector, **** I ain't wrath looter, Nor do poppa sizes on some puke lips locker, Key switch for gates hellish donor, back loner, Course you see, I seek seep suckled ***** Not some subtle soul (gap in skirt) poker, Forever reaching lines, bust knuckle lifters, Cracked rage like Nile is flooding wealths curlers, Jewel duplicate for ruby cuts on roofless lust, Symbolise another and I'll grabble force an honour, Sober up soppy crotch rummage coper, Scan cell prison ament Scholar's "repent!" Mace battle X axel swop blunt round passel, Cost more on pepper rubber rock relation, Patient prep operation, cramp dilation, Dial engage **** sudden blocked injection. Cast nocturnals ominous above monuments, Men fall like weak's race for joy's division, Attend pro's vision, pure as skies probations, Pack pampers protection tracks premonition, Flat lines before lap times, clenching half rhymes, Hop hotter than blues croft in dusks knots,
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Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 2:21 PM UTC
Summer Sweats
Today she wore curlers in her hair looking like cannons staked out ready to blare Her lipstick and powder like bouillabaisse chowder And when she demanded a goodbye "peck" I said "No way!" to the wreck Which made her rear back and bray "Go home then and kiss a stingray!" She cackled and cackled raising my hackles Thinks she is the second Joan Rivers but she only gives me the shivers Soon I was fearing another fight nearing seeing her witch's eyes evilly peering And when she rose in those clumpy army boots I heard an arpeggio of loud flatulent ***** Forcing me out the door needing fresh air and away from her threatening glare But one day I'll be back once I can align myself on the proper son-in-law track
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Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 11:08 AM UTC
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW CURSE
She walked through the throngs of dancers They looked like in their drinks they’d found answers A young girl yelled her over and bought her a drink Sometimes the job was hard but everyone had their financier They took a picture and she left to get dressed Shading, contouring, hair curlers, and glitter were her enhancers She stood at the edge of the stage and heard her intro play, As they shouted her name, she realized that this profession wasn’t a cancer. And though it was a hard life, she loved every moment, They kissed her hand and clapped with joy, and there she found her answers.
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Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 11:50 PM UTC
Burlesque
The fanciful girl with hair in curlers laughs at her inverted existence. We dream to make the world more interesting, her only moral absolute. The plastic diamond necklaces are chains around her neck, red lipstick is a garish neon sign erected for the benefit of the blind. *All the red silk scarves in the world can't buy the attention of the one you want.* The child in the mirror laughs; she is not yet accustomed to my particular brand of self-denial. For her, each slight glance is a tender caress. She passes unnoticed for pages, fading carefully from view. Each mention is a resurrection, a new life for the invisible girl who wears her red dress as an advertisement.
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Apr 11, 2012
Apr 11, 2012 at 2:55 AM UTC
Between the Lines
I am never more human than when I’m riding next to someone who makes me shudder. I am human as I sit and I wonder about their life the way their hair curls to the left instead of the right, if it was on purpose or done with curlers, or if everything in life is just accidental. She probably didn’t care which way her hair curled. Neither do I. But I do care about the way her ankles look with them crossed, about the way her eyes are angled out the window, about the way her jaw clenches when we hit a bump. It probably clenches the same way when her boyfriend is ******* her. I sit on the bus, shuddering and wondering about the bus riders’ lives. They’re probably the same as mine, as yours, as the guy’s who is behind me, digging his knees into the green leather of my seat, which is cracking at the edges. I see a piece of yellow foam pushing out the edge, and I cannot resist the urge to play with it. The person who sat here before me probably did, too. We cannot help but play with things, always hoping we’re never the one to finally break it. We are all the same, we all live to love, or love to live, or maybe we don’t, but we take comfort in knowing that we will all die one day whether its on purpose or by accident, though it is always accidental. But maybe we really are different, after all, we’ve come a long way, from discovering fire to discovering better ways to put it out, concocting new chemicals to cure every ailment, fabricated or organic, physical or mental, and I cannot get out of my mind that our minds revolve around the world which revolves around the stars, the ones in the theaters and the ones in the skies, the ones on the covers of magazines like People and Science Weekly—inside they’re half advertisements— how else do we advance in the world without cash? Their covers are full of sequins and *** tips and shuttles with surveillance cameras snapping photos as they watch our every move from behind the cover of the planets who grin with the knowledge they will never reveal, because they, too, are plotting against us. Tonight we are under the cover of the blankets and I am watching her just as we are watched by the planets that spin and the stars that shine and the moon that just wants to see the light of day because she only knows the dark of night, and the eclipse of her ******* eclipses the eclipse of the moon, and the cross around her neck is blinding me with reflected light and reflected values and I can’t look away but I can’t look at it because I want to deny it but I want to accept it and I marvel at how one taste of her can show me what it is like to be saved.
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May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 1:28 PM UTC
Saved
I am never more human than when I’m riding next to someone who makes me shudder. I am human as I sit and I wonder about their life the way their hair curls to the left instead of the right, if it was on purpose or done with curlers, or if everything in life is just accidental. She probably didn’t care which way her hair curled. Neither do I. But I do care about the way her ankles look with them crossed, about the way her eyes are angled out the window, about the way her jaw clenches when we hit a bump. It probably clenches the same way when her boyfriend is ******* her. I sit on the bus, shuddering and wondering about the bus riders’ lives. They’re probably the same as mine, as yours, as the guy’s who is behind me, digging his knees into the green leather of my seat, which is cracking at the edges. I see a piece of yellow foam pushing out the edge, and I cannot resist the urge to play with it. The person who sat here before me probably did, too. We cannot help but play with things, always hoping we’re never the one to finally break it. We are all the same, we all live to love, or love to live, or maybe we don’t, but we take comfort in knowing that we will all die one day whether its on purpose or by accident, though it is always accidental. But maybe we really are different, after all, we’ve come a long way, from discovering fire to discovering better ways to put it out, concocting new chemicals to cure every ailment, fabricated or organic, physical or mental, and I cannot get out of my mind that our minds revolve around the world which revolves around the stars, the ones in the theaters and the ones in the skies, the ones on the covers of magazines like People and Science Weekly—inside they’re half advertisements— how else do we advance in the world without cash? Their covers are full of sequins and *** tips and shuttles with surveillance cameras snapping photos as they watch our every move from behind the cover of the planets who grin with the knowledge they will never reveal, because they, too, are plotting against us. Tonight we are under the cover of the blankets and I am watching her just as we are watched by the planets that spin and the stars that shine and the moon that just wants to see the light of day because she only knows the dark of night, and the eclipse of her ******* eclipses the eclipse of the moon, and the cross around her neck is blinding me with reflected light and reflected values and I can’t look away but I can’t look at it because I want to deny it but I want to accept it and I marvel at how one taste of her can show me what it is like to be saved.
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43
She tiptoed through the city playing 'Hot Sticks' on her snare drum Her fire-engine-red bright-as-shit-mother-fucking-snare-drum Midnight street lights jumped off the chrome tube lugs harder then her four sixteenth notes Never had realized how good the acoustics were here on 47th Not so much an echo A reverb The lights on behind every curtain Children pressing oils stains into the windows leaving little ovals of fog from their nostrils Old ladies in the middle of dialing 911 The telephone wire shoes tap dancing her rhythm on the sky pop ta-pop-pap-op pop pop-pap-pap-pap-ta-pap-pat Tip toeing Like she was yelling the whole world the biggest secret she could think of just wanted to make sure she didn't wake her parents in the next room I can't remember what she wore A dress, I guess Whatever She kissed my cheek and bit my shoulder Tip toed away Blue high heels...hooker eye-shadow blue high heels I yelled at her, "Why are you tip toeing, you've already woken the whole neighborhood?" Without a thought Without a pause Without missing a beat she yelled back, "If I am going to wake them all up anyway it ought to be with my song, not my step" I sat down and heard the stem of a flower snap beneath me The drumming was gone, all the lights were off There were no footprints to follow My shoulder dry My cheek a tingle I had woken them with my step Had no song to put them back to sleep with that night Tried to whisper a lullaby Instead pulled the trumpet from my pocket Blew 'Taps' the whole way home A string of cop cars, and yelling ladies with their curlers in behind me Stage lights and groupies And from somewhere in the fog my desperate attempt to wake them all up became a duet to play them back to sleep.
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Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 2:13 AM UTC
The Fleeting Vision of a Long Night on Cough Medicine
She tiptoed through the city playing 'Hot Sticks' on her snare drum Her fire-engine-red bright-as-shit-mother-fucking-snare-drum Midnight street lights jumped off the chrome tube lugs harder then her four sixteenth notes Never had realized how good the acoustics were here on 47th Not so much an echo A reverb The lights on behind every curtain Children pressing oils stains into the windows leaving little ovals of fog from their nostrils Old ladies in the middle of dialing 911 The telephone wire shoes tap dancing her rhythm on the sky pop ta-pop-pap-op pop pop-pap-pap-pap-ta-pap-pat Tip toeing Like she was yelling the whole world the biggest secret she could think of just wanted to make sure she didn't wake her parents in the next room I can't remember what she wore A dress, I guess Whatever She kissed my cheek and bit my shoulder Tip toed away Blue high heels...hooker eye-shadow blue high heels I yelled at her, "Why are you tip toeing, you've already woken the whole neighborhood?" Without a thought Without a pause Without missing a beat she yelled back, "If I am going to wake them all up anyway it ought to be with my song, not my step" I sat down and heard the stem of a flower snap beneath me The drumming was gone, all the lights were off There were no footprints to follow My shoulder dry My cheek a tingle I had woken them with my step Had no song to put them back to sleep with that night Tried to whisper a lullaby Instead pulled the trumpet from my pocket Blew 'Taps' the whole way home A string of cop cars, and yelling ladies with their curlers in behind me Stage lights and groupies And from somewhere in the fog my desperate attempt to wake them all up became a duet to play them back to sleep.
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37
I woke with a start, the cracked wooden shutters banging wearily in the wind, hinges groaning, slowly rusting, fully unaware that their time had past, instead they hold on like steadfast soldiers defending a front that no longer matters, in a war that’s already been lost And, as sleep dissipates, my attention narrows and I - I realize that I have no wooden shutters, that they have not been attached to a house in which I’ve slept for more years than most dogs live in east coast towns with half lit neon signs O en 24 rs and yet somehow I heard them rat, tat, tattering like the shuffling of shoes attached to a woman that needs a wheelchair but refuses, in favor of a walker, who never leaves the house without removing all the curlers and putting on her face None the less the shutters, some time long ago were torn and left asunder, when the house was removed from its foundation, by a chipped yellow painted machine, with enough torque to remove the home in which I grew from existence, leaving a gaping hole that was the basement where I had my first second base But there is you, laying beside me, gently breathing in the dark like the consistent flow of ocean waves, lapping the shore with certitude then slowly disappearing into the vastness of the green blue sea You are more than I ever could have hoped for, more than I could have imagined decades ago, when, with a pillow pulled upon my head, wishing that the wooden shutters attached to my blue green house would drown out the sound adults in family rooms make when screams are louder than Carson and the studio audience’s laughter Instead of falling back to sleep, I prefer to listen to your ocean’s breath, the silence from the family room that you and I occupy, while hoping to one day hold you steady long after you need a wheelchair but prefer instead my forearm and a cane
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Jul 29, 2017
Jul 29, 2017 at 12:37 AM UTC
My forearm and a cane
I woke with a start, the cracked wooden shutters banging wearily in the wind, hinges groaning, slowly rusting, fully unaware that their time had past, instead they hold on like steadfast soldiers defending a front that no longer matters, in a war that’s already been lost And, as sleep dissipates, my attention narrows and I - I realize that I have no wooden shutters, that they have not been attached to a house in which I’ve slept for more years than most dogs live in east coast towns with half lit neon signs O en 24 rs and yet somehow I heard them rat, tat, tattering like the shuffling of shoes attached to a woman that needs a wheelchair but refuses, in favor of a walker, who never leaves the house without removing all the curlers and putting on her face None the less the shutters, some time long ago were torn and left asunder, when the house was removed from its foundation, by a chipped yellow painted machine, with enough torque to remove the home in which I grew from existence, leaving a gaping hole that was the basement where I had my first second base But there is you, laying beside me, gently breathing in the dark like the consistent flow of ocean waves, lapping the shore with certitude then slowly disappearing into the vastness of the green blue sea You are more than I ever could have hoped for, more than I could have imagined decades ago, when, with a pillow pulled upon my head, wishing that the wooden shutters attached to my blue green house would drown out the sound adults in family rooms make when screams are louder than Carson and the studio audience’s laughter Instead of falling back to sleep, I prefer to listen to your ocean’s breath, the silence from the family room that you and I occupy, while hoping to one day hold you steady long after you need a wheelchair but prefer instead my forearm and a cane
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23
Sunday morning and I walk down the concrete stairs to Lydia's flat on the ground floor over by the end. I knock on the door; her mother answers and stands there a cigarette in the corner of her mouth and her hair in a turban hiding curlers. Yes? She says, eyeing me. Is Lydia in? I say. Yes she is why? Her mother says. Is she allowed out? I ask. She went out yesterday with you to the cinema where now? She asks. Just out for a walk to the park maybe, I say. Park? What park? Jail Park just over the way, I say, indicating with my thumb. She looks at me sternly: she was out with you yesterday, I can't have her going out every day; last week it was the train station looking at steam trains, now the park, she moans. We like steam trains, I say. I don't care, she says. Lydia creeps to the door and appears by her mother's side. Hello Benny, she says. Her mother looks down at her: thought you were making the bed? I was going to but Gloria's still asleep snoring, Lydia says. Her mother inhales deeply on the cigarette and looks past me at the milkman delivering milk: Hey Milkie three pints today, she bellows, making Lydia jump. Righto Misses, he replies with a nod of his head. Can she go to the park? I ask her mother again. The mother blows out smoke like a dragon without a flame: I suppose so, she says, but not late dinner's at midday not later understand. Yes of course, I say, and Lydia confirms. The mother goes back indoors. The milkman puts the pints of milk on the doorstep. Lydia and I walk across the Square making our way to the park for an hour or two having nothing much else on a Sunday to do.
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Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 5:01 AM UTC
ON A SUNDAY 1958.
Sunday morning and I walk down the concrete stairs to Lydia's flat on the ground floor over by the end. I knock on the door; her mother answers and stands there a cigarette in the corner of her mouth and her hair in a turban hiding curlers. Yes? She says, eyeing me. Is Lydia in? I say. Yes she is why? Her mother says. Is she allowed out? I ask. She went out yesterday with you to the cinema where now? She asks. Just out for a walk to the park maybe, I say. Park? What park? Jail Park just over the way, I say, indicating with my thumb. She looks at me sternly: she was out with you yesterday, I can't have her going out every day; last week it was the train station looking at steam trains, now the park, she moans. We like steam trains, I say. I don't care, she says. Lydia creeps to the door and appears by her mother's side. Hello Benny, she says. Her mother looks down at her: thought you were making the bed? I was going to but Gloria's still asleep snoring, Lydia says. Her mother inhales deeply on the cigarette and looks past me at the milkman delivering milk: Hey Milkie three pints today, she bellows, making Lydia jump. Righto Misses, he replies with a nod of his head. Can she go to the park? I ask her mother again. The mother blows out smoke like a dragon without a flame: I suppose so, she says, but not late dinner's at midday not later understand. Yes of course, I say, and Lydia confirms. The mother goes back indoors. The milkman puts the pints of milk on the doorstep. Lydia and I walk across the Square making our way to the park for an hour or two having nothing much else on a Sunday to do.
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Nosferatu     would have balked if not   gone bald.     They,  too,    from themselves their selves do balk. Circumnavigate     the   lily pond,           Iron Lady in the    swaddling baking    egg pies,   with spited      Curlers    in our    fronds   and — equanimity's edict — forest green-eyed addict —   is A     plumbed    plum;    a dendritic denizen for    the   cypress, Willow that   's hung!     Willow that sung!    Soothing it   hugs      the    sights — such   sour honors  — so smooth-over the boy's club,      so you can get in or      out    whichever    youregoingfor; bring    them their rose water   which drips   next to the      chiffon and the    lubricated sewing table — the grape to-   mato-mottled lunar  ligament: by  dew of the top lip, do lay —      go gray    in taut winter
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Aug 18, 2019
Aug 18, 2019 at 6:42 PM UTC
goes blonde in summer
Advent at the Dollar Store The ***** roachy desperation of the unswept dollar store’s cellophane dreams At Prices You’ll Love boxes of oilless popcorn poppers deep-fat fryers massagers to sweeten generational desperation behind the counter cigarettes locked up We Cash Work And Welfare Checks can’t afford Lives collapsed so we console ourselves with electric hair-curlers and boxes of chips singing NFL coffee machines shiny new bicycles to be stolen before the end of January or left out to rust in the February rain dusty plastic holly shiny CD players for the administration of anaesthesia Jumbo Bargain Gift Wrap for Your Happy Holiday Shopping Pleasure No Shirt No Shoes No Service No, No, No Hyphenated Industries of Chicago, Tokyo, Seoul, and Taipei wishes us a Merry Christmas
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Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 7:34 PM UTC
Advent at the Dollar Store
Do you know what we men love, ladies? We love the raisins in our apple pie when we just want apple pie We love the broccoli in every dish how you beg 'just give it a try!' We love the fortune in toiletries so there's no room for our combs perfumes, shampoos and body creams blow dryers, curlers and foams We love how you sneak to the bathroom just prior to us awaking we plea for you to hurry as our bladders are sorely aching We love to join you shopping and discuss the cashier's hair and if we happen to like it do we tell you...do we dare? but most of all we love you for the biggest, most valuable perk is the motivation you provide to get our ***** off to work!
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Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 1:41 PM UTC
About Men 2 (In response to Crazy Diamond Kristy's 'About Women' )
There she waits on the doorstep of doom with curlers to scare as she points with her broom. There he totters up the street with beer in his brain and two left feet. "Where have you been" "cant you guess that!" He replies with a brave note Bowing removing his hat. Not wise, the broom raised He moved in the nick of time awkwardly - backwards in the gutter amongst the grime. she smiled, her curlers winced The broomstick bent The drunk wondering from where the stars were sent. She threw him a blanket the gutter for a bed. "Make your bed, lie in it" She madly said. the door slammed He was with his dreams She cried buckets or so it seems. Her and him it will always be. Him outside and her indoors that is plain to see.
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Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 12:29 AM UTC
Her and Him
is short and stout (the kids in the neighborhood call him "roly-poly" but not to his face) he's somewhere in his late seventies cloaked in a dark green l.l.bean hooded coat sizes too small on him and he's shoveling snow when he suddenly falls down topples really in the gathered snow a small heap of flesh buried slightly where the driveway slopes down a bit after a short time a few neighbors run over to the site and turn him over one of them checks his pulse the crowd thickens someone cellphones 9-1-1 and then ever so slowly the man opens his eyes starts to smile his head turns to look at his nameless neighbor across the street a neighbor framed in a window he's a kitchen poet in fact who stares right back at the forlorn sight mister roly-poly's wife runs out of her home in a skimpy blue housedress her damp blonde hair wrapped in curlers she looks very angry yelling at him calling him "a spectacle... a drunken ******* to be exact in the meantime their two labradors who've been watching the drama from a bay window seat inside charge out of the house and the wife yells "no! no! no!" the man sits up for a moment the whimpering dogs run to him they start to lick his face and the man tries to get up then an ambulance races up the street skidding on the icy patches the siren screeching insanely in the frigid air the wife keeps yelling "no! no! no!" the dogs keep licking and all the 9-1-1 people rush out of the vehicle and everything looks just like a scene from a marx brothers feature but no one's yelling "CUT!"
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Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 2:54 PM UTC
the man at the end of the driveway
is short and stout (the kids in the neighborhood call him "roly-poly" but not to his face) he's somewhere in his late seventies cloaked in a dark green l.l.bean hooded coat sizes too small on him and he's shoveling snow when he suddenly falls down topples really in the gathered snow a small heap of flesh buried slightly where the driveway slopes down a bit after a short time a few neighbors run over to the site and turn him over one of them checks his pulse the crowd thickens someone cellphones 9-1-1 and then ever so slowly the man opens his eyes starts to smile his head turns to look at his nameless neighbor across the street a neighbor framed in a window he's a kitchen poet in fact who stares right back at the forlorn sight mister roly-poly's wife runs out of her home in a skimpy blue housedress her damp blonde hair wrapped in curlers she looks very angry yelling at him calling him "a spectacle... a drunken ******* to be exact in the meantime their two labradors who've been watching the drama from a bay window seat inside charge out of the house and the wife yells "no! no! no!" the man sits up for a moment the whimpering dogs run to him they start to lick his face and the man tries to get up then an ambulance races up the street skidding on the icy patches the siren screeching insanely in the frigid air the wife keeps yelling "no! no! no!" the dogs keep licking and all the 9-1-1 people rush out of the vehicle and everything looks just like a scene from a marx brothers feature but no one's yelling "CUT!"
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