"monosyllabic" poems
i see the words floating on
message boards or perched
upon the lips of jocular hypocrites
double-standards that demand
sensual chastity and virginal sexuality
in endless iterations of irony
the concussive
monosyllabic words
slung like stones
cast like arrows
****
*****
*****
all labels for
women possessed of
the courage to pursue
their own passion
once upon a time a
Nazarene insisted a ********** had
more integrity than a rich
statesman throwing self-serving parties
so tell me why so
many Christian politicians
propagate patriarchal notions of depravity
in blanket attempts to regulate
the bodies of women
if being anti-choice was really
about preventing abortions
why do rich right-wing conservative
Republicans spend all their time
and money picketing free clinics
when the solution lies in comprehensive
****** education universal healthcare
complimentary birth control
and comprehensive child support
don't dare use the reprehensible
rhetoric of pro-life unless you're
at once anti-war
and anti-death penalty
riddle me this
what pray tell is the
difference between a jealous
religious misogynist
and a secular sexist
it's rather simple actually
while the former bases his
slut-shaming on the edicts of
a two thousand year old letter to
the Corinthians inconspicuously
sandwiched between a celebration of
love and a section on speaking in tongues
the latter’s learned behavior is
birthed by a hyper-masculine culture
grounded in dominance
either way we await the day
when wild women raze
these ideologies
with torches before
rising like phoenixes
from the ashes of
decimated passages
dismissed by intellectuals
as archaic and outmoded
deaf blind and dumb to
the vestiges of modernity
that sap unscientific
philosophies of their potency
and render them utterly obsolete
in their wake
these proud women
erase the hate
from words like
****
*****
*****
and reclaim equality
with a far more
comprehensive term
feminist
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 11:50 PM UTC
Stochastic perfection
Staccato smoothness
Screaming comfort
Mental duress
Gutter rat beauty
Sensory control
Primal sophistication
Mutating soul
Indecipherable pitch
Blinding vision
Deafening clarity
Reckless precision
Simplistic genius
Street-wise intellect
Monosyllabic truth
Politically incorrect
Emotional apocalypse
Raging articulation
Distorted calm
Dominating freedom
Numbingly sensitive
Inappropriate dignity
Contemplative explosion
Tempestuous tranquility
Feb 14, 2012
Feb 14, 2012 at 5:20 PM UTC
too often you **** me with your
monosyllabic question: your lips
form it, so gradually, and hence,
inquisitively, that i, i would not
miss that diphthong you emphasised,
that question of why - yet too often
i find myself unable to proceed
beyond because...
Mar 18, 2012
Mar 18, 2012 at 4:24 AM UTC
LET me be monosyllabic to-day, O Lord.
Yesterday I loosed a snarl of words on a fool,
on a child.
To-day, let me be monosyllabic ... a crony of old men
who wash sunlight in their fingers and
enjoy slow-pacing clocks.
2.4k
The jagged rocks flow through the air like daggers laced with the most toxic of poisons. Adverted eyes avoid the abyss of spewing lava for fear of being burned. Those in the path of destruction, they are the unluckiest of victims. Monosyllabic stones of hopelessness find their way to the scarred skin, bloodying the bloodied, breaking the broken. The volcanoes are worthy of repugnant titles, sharp like their tongues or decaying like their souls. The victims should run, should cry, should lash out against the lava, protect themselves. But everyone says that if you choose to live at the bottom of a volcanic body, you are already dead. The lava will only harden you, despite attempts to remain cool in your passivity. Lava burns, and no amount of composure or preparation can protect you from the overwhelming presence of hatred and intolerance; the hating fire fueled only by oxygen.
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 7:02 PM UTC
Some where he sits or gorily sleeps
The blank stare behind a rigid cut
Eyes of a seductive Mongoloid
Offering nothing for the poison of the sea
The arbitrary swirls of mechanical time pieces
Add heavy track to this an
already shady beat
all the While A reproduction of some Germanic doll
Shrinks smaller into the keyholes
of his frontal lobe
A pleasant amnesia of the purist kind
This anglo doll she is now just a capsized pin
Her black and white knee socks mold into a geosed canvas
Ready to be re-painted with all the emotions he has left
What if I told you I loved you?
By the stairs with the works of post-modern misunderstanding
But it will be just a whisper of shear for the racket builds upward
The spinning mechanics joined by the school busses stopping forever
Yes that statement of old is clearly devoid
Merrily a swallow’s anthem
An absurd tangent of malfeasance
Almost a monosyllabic destruction
Only some misshapen coke spoons remain
As well asthe hands of a man who is much safer out of bed
The saline was much too dodgy
And the sheets…..Well they were never clean
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 9:11 AM UTC
Your name
like a monosyllabic sigh
like the wind through the trees
Beating like a symphony
in my heart
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 9:42 PM UTC
The burning hunger of fractured regret
Your blasphemous assumption of my stupidity?
in whose material conundrum of a word?
in what abstract thought on your minimal plane?
An endless valley of craters and breaks
Monosyllabic color in your grossly proportioned mind
With all rotting media disgust and YOU mock me?
You ballooned beast of a drunken horror film nominee
The paint on a pigs face will always burn inward
Scarring the inside craniotomy
Until nothing is left but the repetition of a credo
An incline of standard flat bodies
****** up and deposed All living in a drawl world
Steeped in liquid
Stretched thin to cover the inquiries
To burn over and brand the thinkers and the lots
An Oklahoma city bombing is still carved into your fair-haired breath
Your bigotry is hilarious because my disgust could eat us all
Yes I am leaping off my high horse but **** you I deserve it
We frown upon pride unless it is clothed in metaphors of suppression
And to what do you overcome?
Your perfect quiet suburban upbringing
Exposure blackballing the floor boards filled with lies
Lies that are my foundation
Rocks that rust into marbles rattling
Around my stomach
With every rung the anger in my rib cage calls out to you
The yelping, the sheltered closet and the oriental rugs
Yes I am dumb like you
More happier in this fatal dichotomy
of a trip **** holy **** despotic mess.
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 9:26 AM UTC
Monosyllabic
Is a five-syllable word
How ironic right?
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 10:23 AM UTC
I followed him
watching my feet
following his,
evading puddles
of an early monsoon
I said, yey
He said, yey
And with that telltale
monosyllabic
guise
Our mutual
feelings
were acknowledged.
We like each other.
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 3:48 AM UTC
Cease the peace.
We tease ourselves
with every crease on this paper;
we call our lives.
Folding in ourselves
to make better
when we can do better.
Decrease the least pleasant day
from your mind, only this time
you’ll find a piece of paper, within you.
Written with words.
Not monosyllabic expressions
Of yes, no, and may-be, so
There will now be phrases that erase the seclusion.
Creating, and not copying
Leading, not following
And finally realizing
Humanity is at a loss
A loss from this paper
That is not glossy
Cause it should reflect
Who we are
Feb 23, 2010
Feb 23, 2010 at 12:14 PM UTC
The stroll took place around 7.30pm
Pathway narrows off coming to its end
Tarmac river escapes to the other side - push on or go back?
Step out with trepidation, speedway of death growling
Clear head, open ear – to carry me
Uneven ground takes over the direction
Poppies swaying among tall strands of gathered grass
Almost removed from my skin
An alsatian leaps and barks – introduction or warning voice?
The undergrowth moves and cracks
Sky light continues overhead, securing me
A passer by greets me and continues on
It is strange to be acknowledged in this way
A small group of adolescents takes their turn also
I am encouraged from this monosyllabic stage of life that they would even bother
Reaching the tunnel of sounding motorway transport, it echoes
I notice homes not seen before in swift passing
Branches bathed in green, stretch out blocking
As though reaching to connect
Pushed aside, I continue
My head freeing up
Jun 16, 2012
Jun 16, 2012 at 6:13 PM UTC
witches adorn the front covers
of ecofeminist zines
in an anarchist bookstore
nestled on the Left Bank
of Seattle's waterfront
rare rays of sunlight
filter through sheer curtains
photons glimmering
through fading droplets
clinging to cracked panes
refracting multicolor
i sit in the window-seat
listening to a homeless
balladeer's somber renditions
of Jonny Cash and Woodie Guthrie
serenading the locals bustling
down Pike Street Market
while the Olympic Mountains
keep their vigil
across a lonely bay
Emma Goldman whispers
for Alexander Berkman
and i balance on mismatched cushions
considering Proudhon's insistent
inquiries while Bakunin smirks
nursing secret heresies of insurrection
colorful posters are paper-machéd
across the walls with slogans of struggle
scrawled in sisterhood and solidarity
stickers plaster the narrow halls
encouraging visitors to Smash Capitalism!
or *Read A ******* Book*
as jam-packed patrons chance
sly peaks at the black flag
suspended in the back room
a faint breeze flutters intermittently
drifting across the open threshold
lifting spirits as if sifting
through grains of sand
not unlike a child
digging for answers
armed with one
monosyllabic question
why?
the banner
cheerfully pirouettes
for a revolution
without dancing
is not one worth having
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 8:19 AM UTC
when you were five
remember how you thought words
were some of the most beautiful creations in the world
and you put exclamation marks behind everything
because your father said you used them for exciting things
and everything was exciting
and you never stopped talking
because everything was a melody
how you picked pages from the dictionary at random
and let the sounds slip and roll over your clumsy tongue
slide down your throat and taste them sweet against your lips
you promised yourself that growing up and adding years to your age
would never change anything-
but it did.
i watch you sometimes
buried in a heap of textbooks and assignments
the light seeping through the crack under your door till two in the morning
and i hear you curse the very existence of the same words
you once so revered
there is no meaning to
(or love for)
the letters you pen and the ink stains against snow white sheets
and i wish i could turn back time to see
the little child who thought the dictionary held wonders of the world
and gave more than monosyllabic answers to questions posed to them
heaven knows when the curiosity in your eyes died (and why i never noticed)
but god knows i would give up so much
to see it there,
again.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 1:55 AM UTC
Policy or personal
questions? In the poem Two White Wines
a child adopted from Cambodia
is a thing of beauty, and so she is
as she showed herself to be yesterday. Lovely. However
the poet implies market, i.e. economic, forces brought her
to America
when, as her parents know, it was war,
the sad Vietnam War or the War with America
as I think the Vietnamese remember it.
Honor and bravery
equal courage. Reed Whittemore's poem about
a photo of Viet Cong prisoners, stoic, defiant
under an American officer's boot
expresses admiration for the enemy. Then and now
a dangerous sentiment. Your fellow citizens, denizens
of convenience stores, even your family,
may come to see you as the enemy. Once ostracized,
the other,
not belonging to the loved ones, you're not long for
this world of dew.
**** and ***
Ken says, describes America's culture, not its poets
or jazz. What's worth fighting for?
Your land, your right to be stupid on your land.
Now there is one large land, one people
and many. The vote is a crude, monosyllabic grunt,
no way to express the subtle degrees of experience
our long lives represent. Thus,
it is good, when the family gathers, to talk,
each person speak
of what has been forgotten, forgiven and forgone.
Trading or taking
every family must be tithed or taxed.
Every man who finds his meaning in war
will be pained into wisdom and gentleness.
Who comes home
comes home to a future that bypassed the fighting, or did it?
The oil must be sold,
even Saddam or Osama cannot withhold it.
You can drink your quota of water
and still your heart can ache.
Empire or democracy
of nations? We can choose to be the reigning kings
between the last empire and the next
or we can implement a vision
of collective deliberation.
America the seeing-eye dog,
not America the junkyard dog.
Going question by question
toward predictable, transparent governance.
Example: How can a people become a nation
without resorting to violence or incurring violent reaction?
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 8:31 AM UTC
You always have a way
Of trashing the band of color
With greyscale
Like acting to be
A ******** monosyllabic
When I spill the L word
Or changing the weather
From purple rain
To extreme cold winter
Like making candies
Tastes like stomach acid
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 11:29 AM UTC
You speak in metaphors
lies dribbling down your chin
Sword fight with syllables from long forgotten prose
backwards beliefs your armor
faux frailty your shield
Couplets carefully constructed to keep your composure.
Monosyllabic sympathies concealing your cancerous truths.
How long will your *** boil
wretched witches brew
Silver sticky lids spill over
a waterfall of ironies.
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 11:28 PM UTC
she sits, across from me
********* the loose threads
of her genes
they are attatched to the fraying of her mind
this, it girl
who is
falling apart, before us all
an honours student,
stumbling quickly down from grace....
silence, is her cloak...
these day....
and in this desperate,
wanting,
of invisablity.
her distress cries loud enough
for all ....to watch...
tears,
fall and track,
silently down her face,
as we quest for the canker...
reponses,
monosyllabic
and non commital...
issue forth....
defiance...
her weapon of choice....
we can,
but, reiterate,
our duty of care...
and hope....
that when she falls....
it is within earshot
of one who gives a ****
she leaves....
no more intact...
than when she entered.... and hitches,
her ragged psyche
and theadbare jeans
up over
those slim, woman-girl hips.
...as she walks, out of
my office door.
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC
Am just an ordinary man, whose lows bring down your highs
a true man of soil, who was trained that sorry is an expensive word
a **** of life, a novice in matters of heart and feelings.
I acknowledge my faults and my crevices of character,
all in all my pride rides me down
hope that my dear wife you will understand.
just as a kite tries to fly without wind,
I feel me disconnected from you as a flash of lightening so quiet without thunder, totally unreal.
before you i thought my self complete,
in my ignorance I felt okay
now you have come n am jolly, n my alphabet totally complete
hope that my dear wife you know
as days are growing red and grey,
and the cares of life n pressure mount up
if I appear distracted an unresponsive,
giving monosyllabic answers n wearing a grim face,
it's not you my sweet wonderful love
am just dealing with the rawness of life n all that it might and has thrown at me
hope that my dear wife now you know
my hope is that long life n great health be the gift given us by Almighty
an in my endeavors hope at least to meet your life long desires
and in my fulfillment you shall find your contentment
where every evening we shall celebrate with laughter n glowing of our hearts.
in my hope I wishes that my dear wife our journey through life shall accord us more sweet memories
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 8:54 AM UTC
Heartbeats are not meant to be regular.
They're meant to sputter, wet and dark,
Underneath too many layers of skin.
When broken they must be robotic,
Rhythmic, monosyllabic and
When loved, they must pulse against
The lips of your lover at the neck.
Hearts were never meant to be
Unattainable, undesirable,
Detrimental.
But rather they exist to be heard
Through your shirt and skin
And commitment issues
And to be felt in moments draped
In fear and strength.
But here we stand, you with your
Steady pulse
And silly me, with the taste of comfort
Once again on my lips and
The smell of you in my messy hair,
My own heart reminded of the past.
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 9:01 PM UTC
Monosyllabic swish
She draws her sword
Not for blood
But to light the world
With the glint
Of swords shiny tip
Her eyes.
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 12:49 PM UTC
That cold slab of concrete,
It just sits there.
Sits through the sunshine,
Wallows in the moonlight.
It beckons for us.
It enjoys our company,
Because it had gotten used to our capacity.
We'd pass monosyllabic expressions back and forth,
As if it resembled gunfire.
We'd share laughs like they were on sale,
And we had coupons to buy them.
I looked at it today.
I stared at that cold slab of concrete.
Images filled my mind of parties and celebrations,
We had the best times there.
We, meaning we all shared in the good.
But when it came to bad times,
There was only one occupant,
Me.
I wore the burden of pain.
It's like you didn't even care.
You'd run just like the rest of them.
You'd run toward anything other than me.
You'd run like you saw laughs on sale,
And you had coupons to buy them.
I sat on that cold slab of concrete today.
I was actually glad I was alone.
The silence was soothing,
Like an early morning beach breeze.
Knowing that no one would run or ignore,
That reassured me.
It was nice to sit on that cold slab of concrete.
I sat there and said to myself,
"I think I like it here... by myself."
I got up and left,
Just like all of you did.
But next time, I'd be back.
And the time after that,
And the time after that time,
And for many more times after that.
If they ever put that cold slab of concrete up for sale,
I'd buy it.
Too bad you ran away with all my coupons.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 2:14 PM UTC
dented
fragmented
battered
bruised
monosyllabic
after a mile
in another mans
shoes
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 3:10 PM UTC