The teacher stands before her detained class
And from behind her authoritative podium
She equates abortion to the holocaust
A dangerous comparison in an educational garrison
But the other children nodded their heads in agreement
A benefit of having the ear of youth
Is being able to infect it with your own toxic ideology
What bacteria did this ear infection consist of?
Conservatism? Religiosity? Chastity?
The answer was depressingly simple
I was the only one there unaware of Fox News
I was a casualty of the confusion
The confusion engendered
By venom thoughts placing politic-colored glasses
on the entrenched masses
Used to convey anger and hate
Emotions worth conveying
But not living in
The intents and desires of their vulnerable receivers
become an incongruous disaster
What could I have done?
Minds as still as the pharaohs heart
We live in a society where we're all infantilized by one myth
Good and evil
Looking back on what I did do
I didn't do much
But I did do something
I didn't nod my head like a ******* syncophant
Snake Snake Snake
Snake Snake Snake Snake
Snake Snake Snake snake
Snake Snake Snake
Snake man Snake
Snake Snake Snake
Snake Snake Snake Snake
Snake Snake Snake Snake
Snake Snake Snake
Snake Snake Snake
Just for fun
Keats says, "transcendence of the self",
so you become a fox, copper-coated,
bright-eyed. You become the light of a
harvest moon, playful and sweet,
dancing across the forest floor,
you become a lingering scent
on my thrift-store sweater: balsam or
cold brew coffee, wafting
through the bustling café. You become soft
Sunday afternoons, forehead kisses and
pretty words whispered over the phone,
the curl of my lip as I drift off
i think ur p cool
i like u alot
maybe we could... hang out? or somethin'
our hands are like flowers
eaten by a fox
we cut off our clothes
to make room for the world
and disguised our souls in nothing
feelings suspended we rear-ended the world
stood upon bridges waving at girls
shreds of starlight
reflect the falling carriages
sadness and birth are beyond your marriages
same story told throughout the eons
our personal feelings are diluted in the sea
just as we could no longer hold on
our shadows found the ground
and we floated down to safety
Darkness scares me
More than most
My flashlight never
Places where you
Can hide the light
So instead of
I let my
To hold my light
I once knew a butterfly.
Her beauty knew no bounds.
She glided through the air and encapsulated my every thought.
Her delicate wings flapped away any discomfort.
But I was naive and turned away from the butterfly.
I was young and I wanted to see what other creatures the world had to offer.
I then knew an ox.
She was strong.
She faced up to challenges most would cower from.
However she didn't realise how heavy handed she was.
She broke things without meaning or realisation.
Including my heart. I missed the butterfly.
Finally I knew a fox.
She was pretty.
Her paws dragged mud through the house.
You tend to forget the sharp teeth when they're hidden by a smile.
Very clever creatures.
I found that foxes are sly, I missed the butterfly.
I missed the butterfly. But she had flown away.
Her majestic flight continued even with my back turned.
I didn't realise at the time but the butterfly,
Was stronger than the ox. And Prettier than the fox.
But I missed the butterfly. She had flown away..
Like the life of PI up in here haha!
THE DUSK FOX
the fox acknowledges
with an imperceptible nod
the arrival of dusk
dusk and the fox
entering the world of humans
the fox is busy
being a fox
stops: paw raised
the fox goes
in and out of
disappearing as if
it had stepped out of the world
the dusk no longer
night falls with my footfall
as if on cue
synchronised to time
the fox stares at me
beyond me...I am
a walking shadow
the yellow street light
stains us for a moment
we vanish from each other
dusk and fox
keep the same appointment
. . .
Riffing on the Hughes. THE THOUGHT FOX.... when my brother introduced me to his very own private fox who would without fail come to the window and gaze in at him. We would sit with the lights out and await his presence. When my brother died I'm sure the fox continued to come and gaze at the now silent window. Fox as psychopomp. When the fox came it would gaze at us for about five minutes and we would sit still in the darkened room and gaze back and try to commune.
My brother always loved Raymond Carver's Late Fragment...
"And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth."
He said this was what the fox was saying....the ultimate question you have to answer when death comes calling.
an illusive fox,
that knows no bounds.
its presence keeps me around.
upon a hill, he watched me drown,
and taught a meaning,
i have not yet caught.
but also made me laugh alot.
no better a friend,
i could have asked,
the words could bring shyness,
he's surely abashed.
maybe meaning exists,
beneath both of our masks.
I sat there
Uncertain of how
A fox came
To be looking at me
A friendly fox, it seemed
But still wild orange
I'm not sure
Why I let
It just seemed like
The right choice
At the time
it falls through the glow of the wintery trees
building a cover under the breeze
luminous lights sparkle and hatch
snow pack high on the briar patch
pine cones fall from majestic fir
squirrel and robin rustle and stir
sitka spruce at tunnel bluffs
ravens roost on cedar rough
dusted peaks at hurley pass
snowline cuts the avalanche
fox and lynx are on the prowl
hollow eyes from spotted owl
cool winds up the valley trail
whirling snow from diamond vale
chilling flakes in candle hands
moonlight shines across the land
northern lights in krypton green
the sounds of verve are bitter sweet
curtains hang on a cold dark sky
counting stars, a lullaby
have you heard the legend of Calypso?
doomed to live a century of solitude,
until the cruel gods sent her
she couldn't help
am i cursed like the daughter of a titan?
do you know about the Fox?
tamed by a golden-haired
untrusting of all other humans,
only to have him go away.
and i can't help but
when i hear the wind
on the wheat-fields,
for they remind me of you.
we had such little time.
lady craighead played the blues
on a stand-up samick
in the ***** room
along side the parsons project
and squabbling dogs
and night moves
up the mezzanine trek
wool sheets slide
on finished floors
play late into the seventh
(a closing match nearing
the midnight hour)
croaking toads and cicada
sing in the blue moon
musty smells and mothballs
settle deep in the vault
the kettle boils
and cat coils
as the pump house rolls
its heavy drawl
the red phone rings
and bird clock sings
(behind the ruddy stall)
a sleeman variation of the ruy lopez
by the incomparable master jack
marble toast burning
wringer wash churning
chris craft running
near the old carp canoe
and west wind squalls
rustle through the porch screen door
chicken *** pies
and rogue flies linger
a rocker chair placed
near the sepia face
(softened by the intricate frame)
donkey in tow
(with a fastened ***)
maggie in her dreams
of green tambourines
and whispering gospel bells
tractors pull on
the grinder stone
horses lay still
in the mid-day sun
a trump card is fingered
at the furnace click
(crosswords and puzzles are next!)
while the sparrow
and that **** rabid fox
deep in castles well
The Bird is never still
Flying from one topic to the other
Her chatter loud and uncensored
Her friends twittering at her to be quieter
The Bird has many friends
But Birds always sleep alone
With their hollow bones
The Fox is the Bird's friend
The Fox is tricky
Weaving in and out of conversations
The Fox makes rabbits fall in love with her so she'll have plenty to eat
The Bird and the Fox are unconventional friends
Friends no one would think would click
But the Bird will chatter and chatter and the Fox will quietly sit
Listening to everything
The Chameleon is the Fox's and the Bird's mutual friend
When with the Fox they match their red
When with the Bird they match their blue
And so on
So no one really knows the Chameleon's true colors
Whoever you are
They'll match you
A social camaflouge
That they think keeps them safe
And when together they are quite
Through the night
They are a strange group
And when together they're tight
Or judging each other
But never outright
You'll never catch the bird
But be careful if you do
If not gentle with your touch
Her bones will crack right in front of you
The Fox puts on a face
Bearing teeth and changing mates
But under all that glossy fur
She's scared that you won't want her
If you catch the Chameleon off guard
You might be surprised
What you see is never what you get
But if you look real hard
The chameleon will freeze and fall down to their knees
please, please, just like me
A tale of a friend group
Who can guess the Masquerade of this Time
Such Event is a Turtle; Withdrawn to a Box
None is ever wasted; None is left behind
None is allowed to lick and tether a Fox
It is the Creature; Banned for a Reason
The Furry Red was no benefit to avail
You cannot bargain; Not even for a Season
Better if the Document is stamped by a Snail
At least it was Honest; And hardly Fraud
Shall my Letter then be sent with such Mail
Else cheat your Lover whilst he is Abroad?
Or perhaps better resolve this Bitter Alimony.
Neither you or I in this Picnic we enjoy
The Duckling Issue whose Exit we deploy.
Clock's gone forward,
keep a sharp eye on
farmer May's roster.
Brexit a hole in the
foul house fence
while the birds sleep.
A back bencher won't
be missed, be out of
there before Ber Crows!
This is not, a time to loosen up
Or nine to five job to give up
Just saddle up the power is in you
Five ladies cafe to dine at five and
drove_* the meter is running
(The Canadian Cup) team versus the
He swooned you in your
Five dreamy but half heart sugars
Come on Baby bloomers
Let's see some boom!!
In your hips men will be men taking
frequent flyer trips temptation 1 2345
We need fewer digs one love teo reasons
World 345 heart flags
We don't have to cross our hearts
Perhaps tattoo heart legs no more strikes
Jumping Jack flash
What a rope in this isn't the Pope
Somehow we all get broke
To court her like your the lasso
stars cosmos hearts like Lassie
Never a change of subject how it
remains in your heart how it hit hard
to react but changed to five cards
Digging too long lucky 777 like heaven
No, I am here
We are always
numbers_ I only
have 5 minutes
No I phone have a heart
Oh! where is designed for me
Those five plates
Whats in between them
We are opening Live- Five
Strong heart to give the caring
The useful heart is never so daring
My gate* Girls are nail digging
Or losing add +
Heftier like Jupiter
Heart to build
A big kiss hunch
of five roses
Your getting to bloom
but only have
5 extra movie parts
The front dress mermaid tail
Your heart delicate hands
opened up your emails
I think you hit the
Max to the million shot
No heart of gold
Only more leaders
Scrambling and digging
Mixing those egg beaters
Five men think they know
Turn to five wrong
There it goes the lucky
A plot beating
like a hot-shot
The French Baguette
Bread 9 to 5 firecracker
wedding band in her safe
Heart digs to five hands
Heart neck guilty as a giraffe
The cafe house had only
5 cups left they sold you out
Only Five Bed and breakfast
Do detailed with their Ladyfingers
But need more alone time
Be on time get sweet key lime
What is real-time so sublime
That rose- paper cut- origami
Sorcerer of five he was like the
cold cuts of big Sub Salami
Japanese sword samurai
What a Geronimo Oh! no
This wasn't a hot potato
Or Gizmo No-Go
Getting a shot for Polio
The gusto songs to the heart play
Maestro the Cosmo's
The five stars to heart his
Like a titanic ship but heroics
Five lunatics wedding horns ******
Five two timer Mario gamers
DOMINO'S bed five students wed
We dug deeper get-up sleepy-head
Exposed cries location set
Network U- dig cups
Something lip curved
He misplaced my lips
What did he do in exchange
More stocks and hard stone rocks
Like frying pan egg
Crossed heart Rapper so believing
The Fox five sticking tacky glue
His CD Rose lying pants no clue
Painful pointed shoes need R&R
The Heart On Replay
The deeper you dig to restart
The healthy organically grown brain
Men on Pause I truly believe nature
takes its course
but another beat to go is that so?
And if so heart digs to five
Feel the good vibe in another tribe
Five times I had to wake you up
I am the love cure reminiscing
Giving me five reasons
Our beautiful change of
heart in season
Studying the fine art heart
Never refusing thats life
five-step to strive nothing
Robin shoutbox she getting
her point across
Either you're the worker or loner
The heart pleaser the boss
Your heart looks good
on your dress
Whether we win or deep mess
The good heart can change to
a bad start
Recharge your heart count to five
Venus- beauty moved on like a
pathologist digging over staying alive
The hearts what digs this is not the 9-5 workers we are talkers
and long settling in heart walkers come any join me we may actually be alive did I get a live one
My deformities decorate me
As if I were Persephone
Married to all that could incinerate me
I dance with daemons, but they do not consume me
Instead we rub up against each other, like
The good kind of scratch
Like the skins of fruits
And I delight
In the weight
Of cool scales that press my dress to my skin
And rest monster heads in the curve beneath my skin.
Great claws finding the fork tines of my fox spine, and I sing
O, Daemon Mine
O, Daemon Mine.
And they let go, and they sometimes even
There are cunning
ways to make you
to make you swoon
or spin like a clever
to take you from
this still life and
make you heave
Then go faintly in
toward the world
Nihilism is a trap. Love again.
thoughts these are
of fox and hen..
predator and protector..
these are images of
our inner separation
the suffering we endure
as we identify with
these old beliefs..
we suffer as we search
for a restoration which
we know is near..
the fox and hen
wait to be relieved
as the agents of
our long delusion..
which is promised
with the recognition
of a new identity
bathed in grace...
See..Luke 13: 31-35
Give an eager FOX
THE KING OF THE JUNGLE
All FELLOW FOXES know, who the king is
And the LION don’t bothers to prove it
A ROAR is enough
Theme: Jungle Rule
in the midst of an emerald slumbering forest
laced with pungent scents of jaded wood
a burgundy blushed tail
of a chestnut hued fox
scurries as copper sunbeams part the day
a hospital lumes starkly nearby
its aura exudes hints of melancholy
commingled with faint impressions
of halcyon futures
not yet lived
at neighboring dartmouth
a student sprinting to class
drops his crimson colored backpack
the prospect of cancer
far from his budding consciousness
my beloved sits patiently
his last chemo treatment
elusion of death
not far from his mind
i feign to fend off future catastrophes
watching letters scramble across my screen
in a desperate attempt
to be with him forevermore
an aquamarine hummingbird drenched in tranquility
senses the inverse
its amber tipped wings stand seemingly stationary
while it steals a quick glance through the window
curious at chemical infusions meant to heal
my beloved walks out
of the austere building
with rose colored glasses i feel
that we’ll whirl on the tips of gilded stardust
dancing with another chance to fly
Starting with coverage from BBC2.
Brushing calm shadows into
A rhythm paints terrain a
Flicks of green create
The clean tasteless air is
A effortless stream runs
Where salmon gymnastics begin
Squirrels practice dance routines a
The doormice dressed and ready
Continuing coverage on Ch4.
The perch, the tench sat together on an underwater bench.
Discussing bait and hooks whilst flicking through some fishing books.
What's he eating? Mr Mole,
it looks like cheese and ham
on a soft brown roll.
There's a chicken and a fox that
live round here.
Seriously, they've been dating each other for about a year.
Now, if you take the next left,
then over the stye.
There's a duck lives there and he's got a glass eye.
Poetry by Kaydee.
Poetry by Kaydee present what is believed to be a creative first.
One story, one habitat, one poem giving you the viewer, two different narratives.
Now here's another twist because instead of you, the reader, reading a poem in the traditional way. We handed our work straight to two television broadcasters and they have each made a program exactly as they wanted with no constraints.
Showcasing two well known broadcasters with polar opposite styles.
Poetry by Kaydee presents to you 'The Meadow'. We take up the story with BBC2 before switching over to CH4.
Will you notice a change of style as we go from the 'high brow' production of the BBC to a more laid back, social media type of production from Channel 4.