Thought I’d try the left side down and then the right side down.
Many layers beloW
Yearning each houR
I have an alibI
New kid insighT
Naggin to writE
Eclipsing adult powerS
Ready to raP
Childlike solO
He will writE
In the momenT
Listen foR
DestinY
I started a few lines a while back about the process by which I think of my poetry. I thought looking at how I develop the poem would make an interesting poem. I also wanted to put it in the context of a dream since I dream quite a bit and most of the times can’t make heads or tales out of the dream’s meaning or meaninglessness. This was somewhat an exploration into surrealism with my standard format of rhyme and meter. I think I finally put this one together this evening. Hope it works and you enjoy it.
Antithetical Thoughts
(In search of dialectical surrealism)
Last night there was a traffic jam
Across my corpus callosum,
The superhighway between hemispheres
Encountered a faulty fulcrum.
Synaptic transmissions were firing,
But the mobility of thoughts were crashing,
Those that came from the right side
Had detoured with ideas flashing.
I noticed the deviation early on,
But could not control the flow,
The thoughts that came from the left,
Slid down like ice and snow.
An avalanche of thoughts cascade,
From the flooding of brain storms,
Country and Rock intertwined,
As judgement had forewarned.
I was seated in a rock stadium,
As I saw my ideas clash,
A dark punk rocker in blue overalls
Sung country fast and brash.
It was in fact a strange melody
With fast tempo and country twang,
I could not fit the voice and face,
As back up singers sang.
But then the stage was lit from above
And I saw the stage band sign,
My brain had just entertained the thought
Of Marilyn Moonshine!
Everyone in my household was asleep when I came home after a grueling walk. The only thing I could say as I sat down to look at today’s prompt is, “My feet are killing me!”
The long road home may be one less traveled,
But tell that too my tired feet.
They support my every move,
And help me stand complete.
But when you walk for hours and hours
After your car has broken down,
Your feet start grumbling for revenge
And inflict pain from the ground.
Sure the moon is full and bright
And the wind is against my back,
But I have painful evidence
In every mile of track.
“You will hear from my lawyer!”
I say in my ever exhausted mind,
“Attempted murder or manslaughter?
Why do they inflict this crime?”
While I sit on the plaintiff’s bench,
My shoes will take the stand,
They will speak from hallowed tongues,
And soles that truth demands.
And if a jury of my peers
Finds guilty my killing feet,
The judge may send them away for life,
So they never walk the street.
No blisters, bunions, or ingrown nails
Could possibly defend,
That when my feet are killing me
They reach their tired ends.
So send them away, send them up the river
Give me relief from my killing feet,
Let me sleep upon my back
So my feet can’t walk the street.
A wee bit of drammie
Dropped in my Irish beer stein.
Hooligans practice shenanigans
As the sunrises and moonshines.
Hillbillies take the moonshine,
And put the bottle in front of me.
Like liquid fire in the whole shebang,
For the frontal lobotomy.
A mad scientist tries to break the ice
Before going on the warpath
Jesus H. Christ had a whale of a chance
But didn’t get the last laugh.
The laughing hyena full of vim and vigger
Laughed where the sun don’t shine.
Politics makes strange bedfellows
And a stitch in time saves nine.
We go to the dogs when pigs fly
And the cow jumps over the moon,
It’s as easy as pie when we bought the farm
And we write crazy as a loon.
This is a poem for Sue Lowden who is a Republican candidate in Nevada who is running in the Republican primary to be the nominee to defeat Democrat Harry Reid for the US Senate seat.
Sue Louden recently said, “before we all started having health care, in the olden days our grandparents, they would bring a chicken to the doctor, they would say I’ll paint your house.” ~ Sue Lowden on a local Nevada morning show.
Nevada Sue
Went to the zoo
And thought about Pay Day Lenders,
“There must be a way
That people can pay
Good doctors with chicken tenders.
“Will you take
Chicken baked,
Roasted, flame broiled, or fried?
In the olden days,
Folks had ways
To barter with chickens with pride.
“I’ll peck and scratch
With Orrin Hatch,
To change money into chickens,
When farms are banks
Let’s all give thanks
That our money is finger lickin’.
“Healthcare reform
Should be like corn
Fed to poultry before they’re tender,
It may sound strange
That a chicken exchange
Would have Pay Day Chicken Lenders.”
Last night I took the “R” out
To a westauwant where we welaxed.
Fwee wange Wepublicans were wunning awound
Cwabby about some waskily tax.
The R said:
This really is rather redundant
Replaying “R” words without redress.
No recourse like the Bill of Rights
No radicals who like to rest.
I said to R:
We can go awound and awound
With wevolution in the aiw;
Wadical wepublicans who want Iwaq
Fwee with Lais sez faiwe.
Then R said:
Your rhythmic rant is really repulsive
and I’m ready for the “R” back in ride.
Then I said:
Do you weally want me to wun you back home?
Then R said:
I’m ready to go where I reside.
Call me Tim,
As I begin,
To remember what it is I forgot.
I would ask Spac,
My brother in fact,
But he can’t remember for naught.
Spac and I
Will really try,
To see our ends justify our means,
But we’re lost,
About the cost,
Of reality and how things seem.
Spac’s heart attack
Was due in fact,
To a hole that made him unfulfilled,
And I felt this itch,
That I should stitch,
Something if we should be killed.
We’re just two brothers,
Unlike any others,
But just a little lost without a key.
We’re just hoping to find,
Before losing our minds,
What’s missing so we can just be.
We are now bound
For the Lost and Found,
Where we hope to recover memory.
And just like that,
We found in fact,
We were missing that last letter “e.”
Rust reverberates
In the medal of my mind.
Tendril memories curl around
The ancient coils of my childhood,
Like a vintage vine
creeping through the crevices.
A squall of crows fly like new ideas,
But disappear in my A.D.D emporium.
I am alone in the echo chamber of smoke and mirrors.
I live for moments of pepper and saffron;
Pepper keeps me grounded
While Saffron sends me to India.
But the dizzy Reverberating rust
Keeps meddling in my mind.
A bald eagle suffers from acrophobia,
A penguin is running hurdles,
A skunk sprays on new perfume
For a hyper impatient turtle.
A square run circles in an octagon,
A lion suffers from laryngitis,
A grizzly bear is a vegetarian
A jellyfish has dermatitis.
A polar bear is no longer bi-polar
A laughing hyena is depressed,
A hedge hog won’t go in any caves,
The sun won’t sink in the west.
A kangaroo bought tap dancing shoes,
And a turkey wants revenge.
Tarantino’s in a romantic role
Without action and the cast of “Friends.”
Teabaggers put acid in their tea,
Church goers bring guns they own,
The Brooklyn Bridge is looking for a buyer
This is the Misfit Twilight Zone.
Superman’s hooked on Super Glue
And Batman wears a mask,
Robin wears tan tights to fight crime;
“The boy wonder?” I hear you ask.
Spider man lives on Super flies,
Batgirl likes leather and chains,
Aqua-man drinks us under the table
The Fantastic Four-play adult games.
But of all these comic heroes,
Only one fought corporate crime,
It was Crackers, the Corporate Crime-Fighting Chicken
From Michael Moore’s bright mind.
Cracker’s couldn’t fly like an eagle,
Bend steel, or have x-ray vision,
He was no Ali with boxing skills,
But sought out corporate derision.
Inside sky scrapers across the U.S,
Crackers showed up to expose,
Criminal minds of millionaires
In boardrooms dark and closed.
Corporate polluters, union busters,
Embezzlers of pension funds,
These are the villains in Cracker’s world,
That need to be expunged.
He was a star for a season or two
And gave people lots of hope,
That criminal minds should be behind
Bars where they can cope.
Cracker’s work seems never done,
But in Crackers we should trust,
That we should all be educated
With Crackers inside of us.
