She had met him once
But his judgment remained
A stick up her ass
The little brat
Just like that
She kicked him to the curb
The whole thing about fairy tales is you actually kiss the frog with the expectation that he will turn into a prince
Cannot say that has not been tried
try to stay in love : with people-
Yet it would seem that -walking on eggshells
Is more the case
So fragile we are
Someone I know has begun to fragment
A lucky fellow he can no longer remember
Who that is
A friend s son went to the park
And got shot
Dolphins dying off the coast of Peru
They have not taken the tumor out yet
My son does not like it that I drink coffee
He says I’m erratic
I think maybe it is true
But without coffee I might start mainlining sugar
Pies cakes cookies
I would be busted for fat driving
God
If you are who they say you are
We need help
If it’s aliens. Help
Please
Upset
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Upset
reason is over rated, as is logic and common sense-i much prefer the passions of a crazy old woman, cats and dogs and jungle foliage- tropic rain-and a defined sense of who brings the stars up at night and the sun up in the morning---
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Re: Upset
A lot in this. As with much modern and contemporary art/music/poetry----maybe even novels or essays----there are shifts of focus in this poem. The transitions are abrupt but the subject isn't the particular stories being quickly (and effectively) mentioned but your emotional throes. The particulars of the poem build on the idea and perception of "walking on eggshells". I think the end of the poem---asking for a little alien help---may seem like desperation and maybe---well, yes, there is some of that but what the poem says to me is that "wait a minute, I'm not who you say I am"---both about God and yourself.
It may seem like a cliché but this poem is thought-provoking. I'm rereading it and getting deeper into it. The two minefield lines are a friend's son being shot in the park and the tumor. Dolphins? I'm sympathetic to dolphins and other wild life (dolphins approach or surpass human intelligence) but the human suffering is what I identify with----though I can imagine myself (to a degree) being a dolphin, though one with human emotion----can we ever put ourselves in the place of other species and enter their emotions, instincts? Anyway, this poem will stay with me awhile.
It may seem like a cliché but this poem is thought-provoking. I'm rereading it and getting deeper into it. The two minefield lines are a friend's son being shot in the park and the tumor. Dolphins? I'm sympathetic to dolphins and other wild life (dolphins approach or surpass human intelligence) but the human suffering is what I identify with----though I can imagine myself (to a degree) being a dolphin, though one with human emotion----can we ever put ourselves in the place of other species and enter their emotions, instincts? Anyway, this poem will stay with me awhile.
The Irish Sea Is Always In Turmoil, Even When Calm.
Re: Upset
raw and honest
as all of your poems
you have an uncanny ability
to dig deeper than most
and convey your findings to a larger audience
which always feels very real
for me poetry has always been partly therapy for me
and I sense you approach it that way as well
as all of your poems
you have an uncanny ability
to dig deeper than most
and convey your findings to a larger audience
which always feels very real
for me poetry has always been partly therapy for me
and I sense you approach it that way as well
If you do not change your direction
you may end up where you are heading
you may end up where you are heading
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Re: Upset
It is a week with breezes warm and balmy
The jack rabbits can be seen on the skyline at dawn
It is raining in a California sort of way
You all are like a campfire of poets that never let the fire go out
I know where to go if I need to breathe
I feel you
Thank you so much and yes I once had to hide in here
Butterscotch cookies calling
Come to palm desert and have coffee and an evening of open mike?
The jack rabbits can be seen on the skyline at dawn
It is raining in a California sort of way
You all are like a campfire of poets that never let the fire go out
I know where to go if I need to breathe
I feel you
Thank you so much and yes I once had to hide in here
Butterscotch cookies calling
Come to palm desert and have coffee and an evening of open mike?
reason is over rated, as is logic and common sense-i much prefer the passions of a crazy old woman, cats and dogs and jungle foliage- tropic rain-and a defined sense of who brings the stars up at night and the sun up in the morning---
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