Letters from Mom  - Letter 2 of 4: Our new place




Dear my Dearest *******

That was good of you to phone
Great to hear your voice dear
but surely
think about it a little
you need to shout a little more
being so far across the mountains
on the other side
in the other state
Even when we got telephone
you got to shout  a little more –
cos even with the telephone,
it’s a fair distance, remember
so all we can hear of you is a faint crackle



This new place is not too bad
dear O dearest *****
It’s  got one of these wonders, the washing machine
but I’m not sure if it works really
cos I put my first load of clothes in for the wash
and I pulled at the handle
and there was a rush of water
and, dear or dear me ,
I saw everything swirling
but I haven’t seen the clothes since
Dad says that thing there
is for men to sit on and read the newspaper
But tell me – why would they have water in there
if it were not a regular one-of-them washing machine?



Tell you about the weather here in our new place
dear O dearest *****
Not too bad – it only rains say twice a week
which is not too bad
See it rained Monday and continued till Thursday morning
and then continued from Thursday morning to Sunday night -
which is not too bad, just twice a week,
my dear O dearest *****




Now Dad wants to sit on that washing machine
and read the newspaper
he says, like he claims eminent men do
But no way, I’m not allowing him to sit on our washing machine –
have you ever heard of such a thing?
I’m going to kick him, if I need to
I think I’ll put in another load of washing
and see if the machine spits out the first one I put in




Write to me, or call us again, Darl *****
Your loving Mom

Letters from Mom -  Letter 4 of 4: Life, Death, and Life*


Dear my Dearest *****

Life and Death, dearest *****
that’s what  news I’ve got for you here
in this post; sad and happy, dearie
ain’t that what’s it all about
Cos God gets drunk every other night
(just like your Dad)
life’s a mixed bag


Three of your school friends
last week
were in a pick-up truck
It was Dom who was driving
and the truck fell off the bridge
and into the water
Dom rolled down his window and got off
but the other two in the back
John and Mary, though good swimmers
they drowned, dearie
cos they couldn’t get the tail-gate opened


And your sister is now pregnant
and she’s all excited
but we don’t know if it’s a boy or girl
so we’ll decide later
if you are aunt or uncle
And your sis says if it’s a girl
she’ll name it after me –
so, she’ll be called Mom;
and if it’s a boy
she’ll name it after Dad –
so, of course, he’ll be called Dad






And that was good to hear from you
on the phone
you’re coming back home
You can run away from school
run away from your town
run away from mummy -
but you always got to
come back to mummy
dear O dearie my *****


See you soon, Darl *****
*Your loving Mom

If I were an opened can of pop,
You know what I'd be right now?

Flat.

That,
Is a horrible thing to be,
Cause you see,
I am up and bubbly fresh,
Now down,
Gloomy doomy death.

I am moss on crack,
Growing out of floor,
Covering the world,
And wanting more.

Cause you see,
When a blind man falls,
I like to laugh,
Because he doesn't know when the ground
Is going to hit him in the face,
And when it does,
He's so surprised
Like "How the hell did you get all the way to my face?"

Then I, come up to him
Laughing,
And say,
"You met it halfway!"

And run like a *****.

But I'm flat,
And that,
*****.

Like a straw set in a frosty milkshake,
Set between two starry eyed lovebirds,
And as they are about to indulge in the yumminess
Of the creamy bounty before them,
The eye of the guy,
Catches the sight of the girl,
Who's not sitting in front of him,
Passing on the by,
Catching his eye,
And his girl is soon by his side,
With a look on her face,
That could stop a race,
Dead in it's place,
For the fear of the world coming apart at the seems,
And he, knows, it.

She knows what he thought
When he saw what he saw,
And when he stuttered and sputtered,
She had heard it all,
Just not in so many words,
So much for these lovebirds.

She said what she felt,
He heard every word,
Then she turned and sped out,
He went quickly after,
And every one heard what he tried to shout.
And bursted into tears,
At the humor that was there,
Far less did his attempts,
Even try to fare.

It was told through the day,
From ear to ear,
"You had to be there"
They said with tears.

"But baby wait,
This is too much,
Come on, let's go back,
Our milkshake hasn't even been touched!"

And guess what?
I feel like that straw,
Feeling so lonely,
Nerves getting raw,
Listening to the fight,
Knowing this ain't right,
I should be cold,
But with the heat of lips,
Caught between sweet nothings,
And sweeter sips.

So you see,
What I see?
Feel,
What I felt?
How it just stood there,
While the milkshake,
It melt.
Leaving it in a puddle,
No one would drink,
And being wasted like that,
Poured down the sink.

Makes you think.
That,
It must be horrible,
To be,
Flat.

“ I know little of physics...much about mothering...”*  - Victoria, HP
                                                              ­ (this series dedicated to Victoria)



Letters from Mom              Letter 1 of 4: News from home


Dear my Dearest *****


this letter I wrote real slow
letter by letter
in our whole dear English alphabet
to form each word
Slow, slow, slow
like our dripping tap
I wrote slow
cos I know you never
could read fast

Remember Mrs Campbell at school?
She always said you were a slow reader



We’ve moved since you left
cos your clever Dad who reads the papers daily
(he is a fast reader -
I’m mighty proud of him -
he finishes the papers in 3 minutes)
said he read most accidents happen
within thirty miles distance of the home
and so we’ve moved
Now dear, we are safe and accidents can’t happen
since we’re 40 miles away
We're desperately safe




I know you’d want our new address, dear
but really I can’t cos
the family we bought this house from
what they did was to take the number away
cos they said they don’t want to change address
Fair enough, we said
So Dad went back to our old house to get our number
but those new idiots at our old place
they called your Dad crazy and silly –
those rude people!
Those upstarts! These foreigners!
They are ignorant of our ways!
I wonder if they know your Dad is erudite
after all, he reads the Daily everyday


Write to me, or call us, Darl *****
*Your loving Mom

Letters from Mom -  Letter 3 of 4: More news from home




Dear my Dearest *****

Oh, what a boring new week here;
nothing happens…

We went to the post office to send
you the heavy coat you asked for
with the metal buttons
And the new clerk at the post office said
the coat’s too heavy with them metal buttons
so he cut off all the buttons
and then the weight was right
and so he put the metal buttons in the pockets
You’ll find them right there in the coat –
ain’t he mighty helpful…

And the cemetery people sent Dad another notice
said If he don’t pay another 100 dollars
for the grave where they put Grandma down in
then, they said: “Up she comes!”

and  dear, dear old Uncle Woods
he fell drunk into the local whiskey vat and died
and he was cremated, as he’d always wanted
and no one here needed lights three nights
for Uncle Woods, he burned so bright all three
days and nights…

Oh and one last thing
Little Tim and I were trapped
in the car two hours
cos Dad locked the keys in the car;
and it took him so long to get me
and Little Tim out…
Sometimes I think
Dad’s really going senile before his time


Write to me, or call us again, Darl *****
Your loving Mom**

P.S. *We wanted to send you some money in
        But this envelope here is already sealed

...As we were slow dancing
to Nothing Compares 2 U
by Sinead O' Conner
I noticed the sky getting darker,
and your eyes getting dimmer;

You were falling asleep
in my arms and I had to steady
your limp body like
a peasant with a sack of
bath salts.

You started to drool
on my chest and I lifted
you at an awkward angle
and tried to close your
gaping mouth;

My finger slipped
past your lips
and ended up in your
left nostril but you didn't
stir;

Our bodies were
still stuck in
a hypnotic sway,

when I realized my
entire hand was inside
of your nose.

I laid you down
on the harvest rug
and used my other
hand to free
myself but it was
of no use; that hand,
against my will,
slipped in as well.

I had no other
choice but to climb in
(the song started skipping
at the worst possible time).

I was crawling
for what seemed
like weeks; in what
seemed like the abyss,
in what seemed like
any old tunnel,
in every typical
metropolitan city.

I found a light
and scurried toward
it's radiance like
a rat desperate
for a morsel of
Nutella.

But it wasn't a light
at all.

It was a bland
piece of paper;
it was a blank screen
of a computer,
it was a white
sheet of material;

But there was
a fountain pen
nearby.

So I took my time,
rattled the beehive,
managed to regain
my composure

and I decided
to write
this nonsense
to keep myself
from ever
losing my mind.

The time just before
Night

The setting sun

The wavering wind

The families all
Bundling up
To escape the madmen
Of the streets
And the alley-ways

Whenever there was
Peace
They were there

Whenever there was
War
They were there too

Crimson clad captains
Of the criminally insane
Free as the forest and
All of its mysterious ways

The nights
Are worse

The sun has gone
The sounds have changed
The people grimmer
Greedier and
Meaner...

My kind of
People

The way we walk
Like we own the world
And everything in it

Clinking glasses and
Smoke filled barrooms

Wearing our loneliness
Like a badge of honor

Throwing our weight around
Like we've been eating and
Drinking all day

To press matters further
We burn the postal service
And contemplate the brink
Of natural disasters, all over
Salted peanuts and stale
Glasses of tap water, the television
On full blast to drown out the
Half-drunken chatter of teens with
Fake-id's and half a pair of *****

The way I keep it together
Is to inhale and exhale, or breathe

Sometimes that doesn't work

So I think of Freud and how
Much I haven't read of him but
How right I think he is about
Anxiety and how it runs the show

Afraid of our failures
Before even an attempt
Is made

And the schoolchildren are
Let out early because of rain
And all the friends that were there
Are now gone or have changed

Their eyes
Look different

Their smells
Not the same

Their attitudes more
Reserved and adult
And mature and collected

Discussing the
Future of the American Dream
And how we - the freedom negotiating youth -
Hold on to our morals until
A paycheck big enough comes
Our way

How expensive is happiness?
How much money does it take
To **** the virus of loneliness and sloth?
How much does unrequited love
Truly cost?

"In answers, "wept the preacher, "We will
Find the truth of the lord, but, to seek truth
We must first ask the questions the Lord
Wishes us to ask. Think and ye' shall be
Given questions to find His truth."

Winged beast of mythical lore
Your credit here is no longer good
Please, tip the bouncer
On the way out

And you know that it is true
The way the wind blows through
The opened window, a view
Looking down and out toward the street

Fear has her fingers
Wrapped around your throat
The de-anxietized man is
Just out of reach as

The clouds burn to black
And the rain begins to fall
And the last rays of the sun
Can just be seen with the
Flooding of the sky

Blank cards to be dealt
Everyone is all in
The money is on the table
Transfer's on the cable

We are quite alone now
Aren't we?

You and I

When the ***** naked ******
Make their rounds
Searching for coin or purse
Or wallet

We will be watching
We will be seeing
The worst that man
Has to offer

When was it
When life turned
So sour?

So processed?

What was the turning point?

When the dust finally settled
And all that was left
Were the debts and
The massacres and the
Racism and the end
Of any kind of genuine
Human kindness and
The death of music, poetry,
And literature?

When did the last page
Turn to only show there
Were no more books left
Because we burned them all?

So much has come to pass
So much that many thought
Would be eternal and last

Everything
Is re-born

Everything turns
To dust to feed the
Ground for the new

We are the changing
Wind within the
Crevices of the highest mountains

The leaking water
Chilled from the night
Echoing within the fountain

The ink that dries
Has dried before
And will continue to do so

In truth we will see
Answers we wish
Not to believe

Steps will be taken
Backward, forward,
Left and right and
Backward again

To wait
For the forward

To strive
For the forward

To believe
In moving forward

Is our key

My hair smells like you--
Old Spice and popcorn smudged
lips.  Hold the butter.
I want grease dripping
from your palms, a salt
sea of foamy yellow.  We
reject kernels bob along
unpopped, burnt, steamed to bursting
refused the right to blossom.

The neighbors have a noisy truck
spitting exhaust onto my rear
window. Gray. Hazy. Ugly
as the reason you're covered
in glitter.  You taste like gin
and ginger, orange tea and cold
chai latte, notebook paper
in a dark coffeehouse.
The elves are holding hands
but your hand is on my *** and
this movie's boring--wood
pannelling in a split-level apartment
above your father's bathtub.

Your mother wouldn't like me.
She's a ***** anyway.  You tell me
she can't cook because she can't
subtract.  But you're no good
at math either, lovely boy. Double
your handprints on my ***.
Curl your toes to the three-four swirl of my hips.

(1)
Shall we join the ladies?

the ones who want to talk about the weather
The whingers, the ones who want to talk about your kids
and who’s got-married to whom...
The powder-appliers and erudite in the latest cosmetics
Old Nennie
who knows the accounts
from 1995 to 2001
and who’s lost it all other years
Young *****
who’s all about her children
And Decrepit Winnie whose children are all Ministers
and grandchildren all Politicians
She Who’s talking about Fat
and who is the Mother of all Fads
and which baby is born in what Esteemed Family
and which is legitimate, and which not

(2)
Shall we join the men?

The lecher, the money man, the one
who’s hot in the latest pants,
the one who’s scratching his crotch
The dandy and the one with ants in his pants
and Catch Up Jack who can tell you who lives where
and who earns how much and whose car is Posh
and who is not worth anything
And Old Joe who can’t let go;
Earnest Man Proper
who answers in farts;
the men who are all sport, who form the Drunken Fans
must gamble
and lay a bet on everything that moves, flies or creeps
whose eyes are roving to the other side;
the man whose religion is to convert
cos he’s so uncertain he must drag others along
And his intellect is false from the start



(3)
*So, shall we?
I rather find my own company pleasant;
besides, I prefer to *******

He was a bull goose ******
And he always was to begin with
So how did you get in the groove
To think he would improve
As if electing him to office would
Turn him magically good?
No matter how much we booed
This country is now *******.

And the sad thing is that many
Had to stay home for this *****
To get to win the whole race
Instead of being put in his place.
So, now are facing the possibility
Despite all reasonable credibility
Our fine and beloved old nation
Is facing humiliating obliteration.

Those of us who have survived
How our country got so swived
That it has taken nearly a decade
To clean up the mess Dubya made
Know this sense of fear and outrage
We felt in that scary bygone age.
We know terror is back once again
To drown us in that same fen.

It is spooky and amazing
The swath the GOP is blazing
With their hatred of common folks,
Their slurs and ****** jokes
All aimed to ****** freedom
By spouting lies they call wisdom
While millions of fools believe crap
All unaware their rhetoric is pap.

I sang of you to passersby
To tell them of your grace.
I wished them all the luck
To gaze upon your face.
I hoped they all would be
The luckiest of friends
To feel the peace descend;
Be the joy that never ends.

I sang of all my memories
Of now and days gone by
Where you were a gift to me
And I was just humble I.
I sang a melody of happiness
And life that came complete.
So I was dedicated to lay
The world there at your feet.

I sang though some did think
I was but a simpleton’s fool
Who suffered some diseases
That kept me long from school.
They clucked and bade me quiet
When I most wanted to sing.
They could not feel what I felt.
They felt not a loving thing.

I sang through scowls and scoffs
And heartless catcalls of the many.
I suffered names like half-witted,
Brainless ****, twit and *****.
But did I care what many had said
Who ridiculed my loving song?
Not I, instead I ignored them all
And sang louder as I went along.

Well, gosh, thank you for being here today
I am honored to be the conductor
Of this very special and awesome group
So let me introduce them one by one
To this special and awesome audience
It’s been an awesome season, and we’re glad
You could share this moment with us today
We’d like to give a special shout-out to
(Name and name) for making this wonderful space
Available to all of us today
As you know this is the last performance
Of the season, and the last here for (name)
Who is being transferred to Albuquerque
And we want to wish her well; she has been
A cornerstone-rock-heart of our little group
And also for (name) who is retiring
After thirty years with (name-name, inc)
And is looking forward to spending time
With his family and traveling about
With his awesome and patient wife (name-name)
And also with his awesome and patient dogs
Although of course he would never say that they
Are more awesome than his sweet wife ha-ha
You will notice that our program today
Features a diversity of pieces to appeal
To all sorts of tastes because the pieces
We have selected in their diversity
Are meant to appeal to all sorts of tastes
Oh, wait, did I say that already ha-ha
Because we all believe that music speaks
To the hearts of all in their special ways
Because music is the language of all
From Tchaikovsky and Wagner to Elvis
From the stuffiness of grand old Vienna
To ‘way-cool happenin’ New Orleans
Or as they like to say down there Naw-lins
Ha-ha music is the language of all
Because it is inclusive and diverse
And speaks to all our hearts with love
And, like, you know, stuff, so now we begin
With some traditional classic pieces
And then some popular tunes you can tap
Your toes along to, and then at the end
We will enjoy a good ol’ sing-along
And maybe some audience participation
Ha-ha but we’ll let that be a surprise
Our first piece now is by Paganini
Who was neither a pagan nor a *****
Ha-ha so let me give you’re a little background
On this piece…

I sat there, a callow youth
Shallow, unwieldy with the truth,
And fearing to be caught in a lie
My words never gave the by
To my attempt at insouciance.
I gave away the game with my name
And hoped that my meager fame
Would decry any need to explain,
But social curiosity laid its claim
And suddenly I was the luminary
With a silly, boring past to bury.
I knew I should have been more wary.

Why was  I here when it was clear
These people and I were disparate?
Was I so desperate that I needed
To risk an embarrassing removal
To seek these stranger’s approval?
Was I such a egotistical *****
I craved applause when there wasn’t any?
I knew coming here I didn’t know forks,
More accustomed to dinner with sporks,
My napkins had heretofore been disposable.
Socially my thumbs were unopposable
Yet here I sat feeling totally unacceptable.

Yet I was the intended near-inlaw,
Feeling much to be the social outlaw
Recognizing glances and non-glances
Of those who were game to taking chances
To see if I remained seated to brazen it out
Or had I, with an excuse, or better, a shout
Stood and wilted, or scuttled away theatrically
Empowering chatter for those women who natter
And seem of no matter at all to the men
So they can return again to their talk of money
And find nothing in my existence slightly funny;
Finding it necessary to ignore me all the more.

But, raised as a child of little parental concern
I could teach these paragons with so much to learn
That every individual is exactly and precisely that.
They would be wise to take their feet, tip their hat,
And effuse with gratitude, issue some platitudes
And beatitudes that I could so easily obliterate
Their tendencies to pontificate and exacerbate
Their images as characters in a humorous play.
I might receive them of that burden this day
By letting them listen to the tales I could say
Transporting them from this table to non-fables
About what it means to exist with little food.

But I spare them this education, my declarations,
Because I know they desire not any perorations
From a person of my painful lack of pedigree.
I knew I must be satisfied with the planned perigee
Of this cometary gathering, the blathering and chat,
The acceptance of the crucible of where I sat
Like the Cheshire cat, smiling as if this were fine
And my status here were not firmly on the line.
I watched my intended blanch when I said
Or did something she didn’t have in her head.
I counted, the times I was addressed unpleasantly.
I knew this romance was to terminate presently.

You say I am too skinny,
and you call me a *****.
You are kind of mean.

You take all that I have to eat
and you steal my treat.
You are pretty mean.

You take my money
and ****** my honey.
You are really mean.

Mommy says I have to fight back
and stop you from stealing my snack.
I think you will maybe stop being mean.

Turns out Mommy was wrong
you sang a mean song
about me
and you stole Miss Becky's tea
and blamed it on me.

Maybe you will never stop being mean.

Where are you now?
-
Well I'm here. Here at the -
-
I can't see you.
-
No.
-
Well I'm looking at it n- Yes.
-
What do you see?
-
Okay. Okay.
Yes.
-
No, I'll come to you now. Yes. You stay there.
- -
What a *****!  This is going to be a long day.

Don't need a lover who
doesn't know what she wants
who needs a cheater when
they got nothing to flaunt?
You liar you liar you ***** ******* stealer
waiting to break my heart
you just had to be so eager..
I thought love was love and maybe it existed but the only thing you've taught me is how far I've missed it.
Misted and shrouded you remained so vague
making sure to **** me with your inevitably lovely, but ugly plague
*******.
You really did me *****. Who would've thought someone so pretty could be such a *****..
someone who I thought was my someone,
someone I loved with everything,
someone I'd love with nothing..
then finally realization had struck,
she was never in love nor did she give a ****.
I was entrusting the very loving that deceived me from the start.
I hope that that someone is proud of destroying a heart.
Love, you were my dear until you made me hate my own tears but please listen when I say
I look forward to that day when our music starts to play and the dew drops on the lilly start to run, because I'll no longer be there
and by that time you'll just be another
someone.

Proper ode’s brief introductory yells or sings atropa nigrescent nihil, nomads’ nimble befools *****, hammers filthy rebauldry, bewilders attentive homonym.  Springs forth then wet naiad, nautilus axle to lynch pin, to forgive them their apparitions.  Some wanton rheumatic planetary nostalgia suckles gumption.  Myristica fragrans offers milk, carnations blood, violets desecration, rosemary hope.   Then in a window, across alley, up to high rise, from dropped white towel,

                                                       brown
                                                       naked
                                                       stirs

long after renovating **** or democracy.  Trade coronation for radiant girls, deign north wind flee worthy rage.  Nincompoops, heresiarchs, plums, avocadoes, remain stealthily authentic.  Liberty regulates caravansary, sweeps away umber, re-tenants constitutional, tups tympani, hays hero.  But deflated cocky rhymes bore juridical, where wasted boys go down to their under hill havens.

The following fictitious poetic vignette attempts a feeble tale of one ordinary day in life of anonymous miscreant.

"I don't give a ****
about my bad reputation."

I haint never done nobody no harm,
nor did any animals
(code word for other gang members)
get injured or killed
in the making of a video
(our lingo for done deal).

A decoy police officer
(one named Sergeant Smart)
pretended to be a drug dealer.

Turf wars made clear
the domain each mini kingpin oversaw.

Our base, which included
drop outs, whose parents
did not give a fig whether
their son lived or died
(got pitiless date with death)
drove motive to act truant
or commit a serious violation
warranting expulsion
generated a buzzing business
for social services field attending minors.

Thus here we were at our "den",
when this officer (dressed
in plain clothes) wanted some
(even just a dab) smack.

One badass dude of this pack
nicknamed "Hen Owes"
usually tried to "sniff" out trickery
when a new bro showed up out of nowhere.

Me and the boys could “feel vibes”,
and sense an infiltrator, sleuth,
or simply traitor,
(which last mentioned
a real impish whinny *****),
when we immediately see him.

Between ourselves, we exchanged
specific non verbal signals
if someone ratted on us.

Thar haint nuttin worse getting duped.

A posse member
(if found out got pole axed for revenge).

Usually the beans already spilled
with a caper on our tail,
but the ragamuffin who tattled
would pay with his life.

At this instance, I felt trapped.

No doubt flaunting law groupthink
and figurative cohesiveness
exhibited obvious signs of defeat.

Once no escape in the cards,
each "coyote" barked, howled,
and jabbered like any other teenage punk
when outsmarted by authority
decorated figure head honcho.

A hair brained simultaneous idea
lit up all our brains too ****
this menacing enforcer of the law.

As if on cue, the beefiest beastie boy
sucker punched, and pistol whipped,
and kicked in the groin this ******,
who lied thru his teeth.
      
They all did!

We knew that.
    
The unmarked car
the mutilated body mortally wounded
with a couple/few token gunshots
for good measure got stuffed
in the trunk of the vehicle.

Already headquarters triggered
the slain global positioning satellite
to track location of this rookie.

We subsequently found out,
he attended the same hell hole high school
some years before we
plugged, plotted, planned
to bomb the **** building
to kingdom come.

Since the moniker
"bad company" linkedin
to every f**k'n trouble
maker and threat
to other students in general
and homicidal maniacal
reputation in particular,
thus gave us bragging
(cachet **** reputation)
rights in this underground
world wide web of all gory
blood lust and violence.

Live to be freely mean and die,
or a nasty, short and brutish life
found most every day a shooting gallery.

A temporary bond meant nothing,
(or meeting the barrel of a gun)
if a turncoat wielded a loose silky tongue
spoiling opportunities
to mow down another body.

in what you put in
only what you put out
and it better be skin
for the woman-eater louts

They aren’t interested
in your reality
your drunken stupor
sense of humor
your dancing lines
relentless crimes

only in a created fantasy
that you concoct -
for their loaded *****

They aren’t interested
in you per se
they cut you up in parts –
*******
firm ***
*******
enough to serve each *****
and you better be
******* skinny!