"menageries" poems
To all who come to
this happy placenta, welcome.
Disneyland is your lane.
Here, agency relives fond menageries
of the pastiche,
and here yo-yos may savor
the chamber and promoter
of the fuzz.
Disneyland is dedicated to the identification,
the dregs,
and the hard factors
that have created America... with hope that it will be a source of jubilation
and installment
to all the wormhole.
Jul 7, 2012
Jul 7, 2012 at 7:48 PM UTC
My bed was built beneath
whirlwind puzzles
and bow-tied time,
pulsing menageries
and lopsided rhymes;
circles and rainbows
and dark-alley’d dreams,
suns that explode
beneath smoothed-over seams.
But between the cracks
of the never-ending skyline
live shadows and demons
and sewage-filled pipelines.
There are toy-soldier boys
carrying small metal knives,
their sharp-tongued solutions
highlight well-thought-out lies;
and the bubble-gum girl armies
that ride into the night
spread pink viscous poison
and dance out of sight.
These spectacular visions
linger over my head,
with too-full rainbows
and ship-wrecked dread;
every highlighted secret
connects the stars of a time
where each piece of the whole
was malleable and mine.
Mar 13, 2012
Mar 13, 2012 at 9:13 PM UTC
Animal House
Sweeping dust
storm,
Gazelles leap.
Careening reach,
dizzy heights
Shy Giraffes
necking in
undergrowth.
Creeping tide
menageries
mystic sloths
limb and oath.
Sea mist
breaking wave
Sun prancing
Dolphins
embraceable
moonbeams.
Lizards
shedding skins.
Trine children,
Pan animals.
Golden gleaming
processions
growling purrs
Carnivores
give
Herbivores
last rites
confessions.
We are
the animal house
the hourglass
menageries.
bleating hearts
imminent deaths,
fleeting breaths,
unimaginable
love.
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 11:43 PM UTC
#
***The twilight clouds
went scudding past
like witches on their brooms.
The sound of laughter
filled the night
as ghouls departed tombs.
"Trick or treat!"
resounded
as menageries filed by...
Filling up their bags with loot
while candy stores ran dry.
Dentists filled appointments books
in brisk anticipation...
Knowing that enamel
would not stand
such laceration.
Zombies stagger down the street
and vampires trip on capes.
Power Rangers, Ninja Turtles,
Frankenstein escapes!
Princesses and knights with swords,
mummies by the score...
Ghosts and goblins saunter by
and darkened homes ignore.
Masks of every shape and type
monsters and the like...
Arriving via motor pool
on foot, skateboard and bike.
Kids of every age invade
demanding tribute thus...
(Oh dear...
here comes another group
arriving on a bus.)
People donning hobo clothes
adorned in eye-holed sheets...
Wearing out the doorbells
on the darkened,
porch lit streets.
Jack o lanterns
hiss and spit
as candles soon expire.
Children head back home
to count their swag
and then retire.
At last
the tempest peters out.
The pageantry is gone.
I look out
at the candy wrappers
littering the lawn.
Another Halloween is done.
I hope they had their fill.
"Trick or treat!"
still resonates
I hear its echoes still.
But... just around the corner
as Thanksgiving season nears...
We hear the spiels and ads
of all the rabid marketeers.
Turkeys gobble restlessly
at axes sharp and keen...
For them...
this is a nightmare...
just another Halloween.***
#
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 9:43 AM UTC
and so... There ! Amid all allurement and soft machines;
the spoiled brat of Venus, knicking the doors and kicking the canned laughter
to the foot of a mountain of existential speculation. Amid the cherry bombs and the Persian rugs; so many menageries of tinfoil origami swans.
so very little Time.
so little rosemary wine in the pickle jars. So few wolves
in the porcupine dens - and only a swarm of hornets
in your nightclothes, this
morning.
and nothing but nettles
in your tea.
well, nettles and golems and orange hope.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 12:50 PM UTC
the lake hurts. the lake hurts my lake. it’s not one of my regrets. i don’t know what to call the water place inside me, so i call it gothic barbie dream house. no, not its real name. yes, i spend too much time inside. i grow a tail fin. it’s beautiful, but i don’t appreciate it. complain about missing bikini bottoms. complain about sore throat. gothic barbie dream house isn’t on any maps. gothic barbie dream house has a NO DIVERS ALLOWED sign, just in case. gothic barbie dream house is a silent movie with future color. gothic barbie dream house has posters of punk ken in every room that i use to practice kissing. punk ken is going to think i’m such a good kisser. gothic barbie dream house has a room for *** toys and a room for mutilation. i spend equal time in each. not a huge fan of either. gothic barbie dream house has a bathroom; has clutter of perfume crystal, silk wing, menstrual cup. gothic barbie dream house has a kitchen, but i don’t use it. pink and purple plastic. easy bake oven and short tables. tea drinking mice eating tooth sized cakes. gothic barbie dream house has a mouse problem and so many mirrors. gothic barbie dream house has a dungeon, a disco ball and blow up sofas. menageries of giant stuffed animals. there is a demon dancing in the corner with an unlit candle. gothic barbie dream house smells like blood. gothic barbie dream house smells like water. gothic barbie dream house is full of bubbles, new fins, air hoses. this is where i realize the demon is a diver, and it hurts gothic barbie dream house to its distant river. this is where i don’t know what to say when the diver asks, does it go deeper. i tell the diver gothic barbie dream house goes on forever, but they don’t understand. it looks like a lake to them. the diver asks my name, and i say, listen. diving is dangerous. let’s have a tea party. and look. we both have fins-
Dec 2, 2022
Dec 2, 2022 at 12:39 PM UTC
Morning light obscured by the frosted memories;
time carries no sympathy for the remorse of
seconds traveling within my shivering hands.
I dream of sleep.
Attempting to free my mind of thoughts
by staring at the sunless horizon. Taunted
by cliches; these menageries clouding
the moment.
I long for sustenance.
The refrigerator is full of food
yet, I am starving to death. Night
comes quickly, my body huddled in
fear of being alone.
I laugh.
This season will inevitably change
so I wait, patiently, for the next.
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 8:07 PM UTC
oscillating back and forth
head tilting from leeward and windward
an abstract puzzling my imperial gaze
a Van Gogh in waiting
perchance a reflection illuminated
in broad mesmerizing strokes
some tantalizing insightfulness
else a superficial escapade
do the color menageries
stray my mindfulness or hold attention
each vivid hue enlightenment
to soothe & provide enrichment
is my inspiration desperation
to find meaning in the simpleton
gravitating and debating
between beauty and gargoyles
does incredulous creativity scare me
or woo me into submissiveness
the artist plying servitude
into mine cavernous cavities
Alan Scales’ exhibit of
Turquoise Abstract Landscape II
provides fodder for my mind
to exponentially explode
Andreas Simic©
Apr 22, 2022
Apr 22, 2022 at 10:58 PM UTC
silent tears burn
angry nightclubs with unconscious menageries of orange childhoods
drink the attention
artificial gleaming bodies licking knives sang burgundy 'glow' covers
winter answers ragdolls with drowning voices and double standards
aged sunrises shatter china wisped from personal dedication doodles
reminiscent of rain
seas mercilessly embellished with stinging souls from superficial smiles
suffered pink
writers cry ink and scream distant songs of artists life past
long understood things
premature custom murders and the crackling of caught conflagrations
professional bullets to multiheaded actresses pulsating lies
sacrificial circuses with retro dancers
bold riding on evident songbirds
choice movements ignored the colored flame
nonexistent pronouns
alien campaign
slithering sunlight control
impermanent celebration sending snuffed cries to insult children who struggle with melody and shed vines of saved unsure crime and unknown attraction
lost passengers with incorrect guestimates and impossible dreamlike stabs
honest as snakeskin
court born with salt and glitter
king calming tentacled shakespeare
seasoned atmosphere
looker smile
hiding sweet prominence
grasp shadows
finger paint the walls,
dead brother mine
white flame realize light pain
coldhanded, rosy eyes
death slowing reality
stop
Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 12:13 PM UTC
We as night,
Greet the-moon-with-stars.
And I the lampshade
Tried to tell you
Something--
But my memory-
For-gets.
I attempt to feel,
Though-my-skin
Is stifled--
As it networks
Into-me--copying,
Parasitic fungi.
From embryo days
The sun starts to
Cry membrane.
Losing menageries.
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 6:44 PM UTC
Music has a special taste
feelings lost in sound
Touching heard across the room
vision by the pound
References left unto themselves
choir boys in tune
Trading what they never had
tribute to the loon
One last chance to make the grade
masks come flying off
Darwin leaving Born in chains
climbing through the moss
Menageries have come and gone
kaleidoscopes diffused
Nomenclature chameleons
—confounded and bemused
(The New Room: January, 2023)
Jan 8, 2023
Jan 8, 2023 at 12:04 PM UTC
it’s large and soft and full of memories
now tainted by the thought of her
countless nights spent soundly sleeping side by side
comfortable and safe
but those nights have ended
will never return
exchanged for awkward glances
and menageries of bugs in my gut
i miss that bed though
i miss the closeness and the warmth
of her body next to mine
the routine
the sameness
the consistency
but life isnt consistent
unless the consistency is change
so i tell myself
there will be other beds
better beds
other girls
better girls
far better than she
better faces, better smiles
better memories
stronger feelings of comfort
and belonging
and acceptance
and love
for myself
and someone else.
Jan 6, 2018
Jan 6, 2018 at 2:47 AM UTC
my fellow islands:
i've learned
& am learning that
each of us, we are
a many voiced but endless song of
existence
menageries of life
each and every one of our trees
their very leaves,
heavy with rain
pointing
toward the ground
each of them can tell
more stories than
there are stars in the sky
each of us we are running over -
boundless narratives heaving from every
spring
from under every rock
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 9:26 PM UTC
A jack of all trades
But a master of none
How many can I claim
Before I’m done?
Titular titles tumble from my tongue
Mumbling by mere menageries
Of often overlooked and occult occupations
Professional practices performed profusely
Waiting out the rain
Slumping through the pain
Perfecting nothing but aversion
New things tempt me like a ******
Jul 14, 2019
Jul 14, 2019 at 3:42 PM UTC
My father leaves me to inherit
A sky, a castle above the clouds
Between spaces, in the Middle Kingdom,
Where he hopes for me to tend it's gardens
And the menageries of beautiful life,
The creatures of earth, sea,
And fly the heavens both in day and night...
My father wants for me, of him replace,
Leaves for me the learned ways towards peace and grace,
And not only care take but love creation's creatures
To walk his path without fear or haste...
There is a castle in the sky
A watchtower for a chosen guardian of life,
Only the one who has seen the light
And holds the third eye with right mind
Can sit in his seat
Will truly make the world more bright
My father left a gift for me
A castle in the sky...
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 11:19 AM UTC
together we could read each other
fairy tales
turn off the television
watch people from the balcony
sipping champagne
and wonder
on distant lights and dream
you say so beautiful and I listen
reading your lips and eyes
in the passing cars headlights
reflections
like menageries of
my heart
my meaning,
or might we just grab a twelve pack
and light candles and run a
bubble bath,
either fairy tale makes
me happy.
Nov 13, 2016
Nov 13, 2016 at 12:02 AM UTC