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Poemasabi Jul 2013
As I sit here, at the dining room table and stare over decaf coffee at the screen on my Mac
my eyes are drawn, once and awhile, to the picture sitting on the buffet in the butler's pantry.
Before we continue you should know that "butler's pantry" in this case
means the "third bedroom" that we saw in the listing on Realtor dot com before we bought the house and that,
in the usual real estate-ese, is an optimistic label at best.

But I was talking about the picture.

The picture sits, slightly askew, in a carved wooden bowl given to us by my wife's boss
as a housewarming present.
It, the bowl I mean,  came with salad tongs or forks,
depending on what it is that you call them,
made of water buffalo horn.
They sit in the bowl too and,
although she'd never admit it,  
I know that the thought of serving salad with water buffalo horn salad forks...
lets just say.....
doesn't appeal to my wife.

Right, the picture....

It sits in on the buffet,
in the carved wooden bowl,
next to another wood bowl.
This one full of carved wood fruits and vegetables,
which evidently, includes sugar cane.
When my wife's dad moved from his house to an assisted living facility
the kids, my wife, her brother and sister, took turns going down to help him move.
My wife was the last and dad insisted that
someone
"had" to take the fruit.

But, the picture....

It, and the wooden bowls full of fruit and unused salad forks,
are surrounded by both faux and real glassware
and placemats
which all sit perched
on the top of the buffet as precariously as refugees
and all of their belongings
on the deck and roof of an overloaded fishing boat
chugging from their homeland
to some place that is hopefully better.

The picture...

It was painted by my father-in-law and,
of all the others we have in the house,
is one of my favorites.
It sits on the buffet, askew in the carved wooden bowl with the horn salad forks,
amid polycarbonate and glass drink ware,
and placemats,
unframed for some reason.
All of his other works came framed
but this is one he did not...
and did I mention that it is one of my favorites?

I like his choices of frames on all of the other pictures we have,
but this is just canvas, stretched over a frame,
sitting in that carved African wooden bowl
with those salad forks made from water buffalo horn
on the buffet next to the other wood bowl full of wooden fruits and vegetables,
and wooden sugar cane,
in the butler's pantry.
Oona Sep 2016
In this story,

she’s made of only blood, flesh, and bone. Her pair of
white-hot eyes trail down polycarbonate
bodies like liquor over skin, yes, I’m moving to
New York next weekend. Yes, I’m very excited.
She’s a
simmering bowl of office clerk and
caesius veins, swimming, always swimming.

It’s not like she has a lot of *** or anything, though she
likes bodies against bodies and the smell of
salt and sweat and gasps and heaves and
the thrill. 40s jazz and pill-shaped
freckles; she pulls her sweater down over her hands,
tries to calm down a heart that'll never stop
beating.

God. Yes. Yes to whiskey, yes to the new car, yes to falling
asleep without eating dinner. It’s about the new, the news, the
ivy and the flowers and the way that roses are so beautiful and yet they are
covered in thorns and green is a very pretty color until
jealousy turns everything brown and rotten and it’s all about the

way Venus fly traps are so wonderful and so so cruel.
B Jun 2014
Eyes closing in the driver's seat
and maybe it's because I'm tired or maybe
I'm proving a point
You had one rule
break it if it's not broken and
I wasn't but I hid faster than you could shoot
you're still looking for me
shotgun in hand
but bullets don't go through
layers of glass and polycarbonate material
and I'm made of it
I hope your future children ask about the scar under your chin
and you tell them like my frantic nails had nothing to do with it
People look at me like I'll die
at the mention of your name but
you're in the back of an ambulance
every time I say I love him more than I ever loved you
Don't kid yourself
I only have real feelings when
they're artificially put in my bloodstream
but even then you can't call it authentic
I stopped counting the days
and imagined a million ways
to erase them
just in case men
were after me.

'Scot free?'
nothing to do with Scotland
and sod all to do with me

I've paid,
and the rise in
testosterone levels that leach out
small amounts of polycarbonate,
(more medical miscalculations or
the effect of chemicals on certain
stimulations?)
are what I get or they are
according to some research paper
I recently read

who said, bored stiff but not dead?

I count the nights now
and
not knowing if daylight
will catch me watching
I pull faces at the stars.
Date:
August 26, 2010
Source:
The Peninsula College of Medicine and Dentistry
Summary:
Researchers have for the first time identified changes in *** hormones associated with bisphenol A exposure in men, in a large population study. BPA is a chemical commonly used in food and drink containers
Riz Mack Jul 2023
If the perfect storm was never enough
what can blow us away?
Can't tell the difference between lovers' love
and a love for lust anyway

something in the way we stare?
Open souls are laid to bare
weigh the difference
between lovers' lust
and a longing for love and care

Connections seem few and
far between
when we exchange our hands for screens
affection expressed through
likes and memes
projecting the best of our lives
in dreams

Something new
in the way we all stare
digital pinnacle
obsolete miracle
there's something to
how you look in the glare
something mythical
infinitely kissable

Swipe right
just to see see how you're doing
don't want your number, we just need a room
polycarbonate amorous gloom
the future resembles the present's doom

How many times can you save yourself
before you lose fidelity?
How many matches are made
to melt a heart of insincerity?
something something online culture
The majority of mine lxiii years
expended delving deep into imagination,
yours truly escaped, loosed, thwarted...
reality courtesy bookland
roaming cerebral cortex terra firmae
did not amp pulley satiate
seemingly depression found me
(an uncompetitive, oversensitive,
intuitive, contemplative bookworm)
with scrunched pate,
a day short and a dollar late

one dime a dozen lad
hood scrimp and scrape,
a familiar pattern typified fate
viz - hand to mouth bleak
how zing existence aye equate
extant throughout three score
plus three years date
journeys round el sol,
this varsity schlepper, procrastinator,
malingerer did create
current emotional state
mottled with sea henna tint
financial, emotional and

psychosocial characteristics stint
aye serum eyes while
in utero the blueprint
indelibly etched analogous
brand York Peppermint
also analogous to musician
recording tracks upon primed glint
ting digitized compact disc
clear polycarbonate plastic substrate,
a reflective metallic layer,
and a clear protective coating
of acrylic plastic
breakable as flint.
  
Though afflicted with severe
panic/anxiety attacks
suffering became manifest destiny
for decades housed née sequestered
in abominable barracks
(one common joe biden his time)
made debut during prepubescence,
ambivalent toward and quite lax
concerning mien kampf,
when adolescent/puberty at max

metamorphosis from boy
to man found me strongly in pax
averse to growing up
Anorexia Nervosa latched did tax
developmental height and weight,
whence this grown male did wax
nostalgic for his boyhood-
literally starved himself -
not quite to death,
or unconditional self-acceptance by peers.

Mine psyche felt ship
wrecked upon the jagged shoal
of abject apathy, self-injury,
and jury-rigged penury now a pall
duh, these psychological idiosyncrasies
perfect breeding ground to maul
and rent asunder psychic ground
for lack of pride slinking along hall
ways resonating with flapping wings,
his doppelganger exhibited gall
wherein yours truly remained
face down from a major fall
when both parents alive
(thine mum deceased
almost eighteen plus years,

when grim reaper didst call
now octogenarian widower pop,
who since this initial writing
passed away about
sixteen months ago)
espied sense to bawl
upon death ova
me mum, and sensibility
evinced inquisitive kindled
linked opportunistic quest
misunderstanding, avoiding
whirled wide web
as a young whippersnapper -
wait, that iz not awl.

Inform me if you wanna explore
additional tidbits glore
cuz long poem comprises more
lines offering metaphorical tour
within me body electric
akin to teenage wasteland
after internal near deadly war.
After descent of eventide
luminescence of freshly fallen snow
still illuminates the terrestrial firma bright
even upon the onset of dusk,
when dark shadows
betoken the edge of night
analogously herald outer limits
invoking intimations of the twilight zone,
which visibility amplified
with appearance of full moon
accentuating brilliant blinding white
across the bucolic expanse.

No matter familiarization
with precipitation falling to Earth
as ice crystallization,
nevertheless a child like mirth
bubbles up inside of me,
the shear beauty worth
more than words can spell.

These transitional bifocals I wear
become naturally tinted
(upon exposure to radiance)
courtesy law of reflection
which states that, on reflection
from a smooth surface,
the angle of the reflected ray
equals the angle of the incident ray
essentially darkening material
comprising lenses for glasses,
which constituent chemicals for lenses
come in four types of plastic:
polyethylene, Trivex, polycarbonate,
high-index polymers, and glass.

After looking away
from brilliantly shimmering raiment
displaying full regalia donned
courtesy the nearest solar body,
one might see dark spots or patches
within field of vision,
which ocular entities called afterimages.

Afterimages happen because
the cells in your eyes that help you see,
called photoreceptor cells,
get tired from the bright light.

There are two types of these cells: cones and rods.

Though myopic, I still marvel
and feel blessed at ability
to experience capability,
no matter nearsightedness
insync with color vision deficiency (CVD)
diminishes fullest breadth and scope
to see with perfect
(meaning 20/20) vision
ever since a wee lad
way back in second grade
nearsightedness became quite evident

and difficult to ignore
forsooth in while deep in the womb
visionary genesis made
with slight inability
unable to distinguish
one or more chromatic colors
also in the chromosomal store
and so-called “floaters”
like my own private kaleidoscope
played tag across field of view

in the process concentration wore
out ability to attune other senses
to lend even a shade
now as an older fellow,
who dons bifocals with pride
eligible by optometrist/ophthalmologist
to undergo laser surgery
to shine on (me) lens
and render spectacles superfluous
as necessary guide
once anonymous philanthropist pens

adequate check for costly procedure,
whereby ocular weakness to hide,
whence ability to see keen as a hawk
with zoom empowered by tens
meanwhile this wayward fellow
will pilgrimage to the oracle of Delphi
hoping the priestess can deliver
like some divine
miracle worker for near blind
and if prayer
(to be free of glasses answered)

will become prophet
(written on subway walls) well nigh
and wordsmith will no longer
make spectacle of himself,
additionally no longer at the mercy
per groping in the dark
for misplaced eyewear to find
able to discern celestial objects
far away in the sky
which cosmic phenomena
t’will hypnotize this inquisitive mind.

— The End —