Dear Diary

[Doreen Peri]

I met with the Mad Hatter today for tea.
He looked at me the way a madman would,
of course, his nose all crinkled up, his eyes
all aglow, as if he were projecting a psychedelic
light show from his irises.

I dare not stare back into his eyes for fear
I'd lose myself to his spell. It was as if hell itself
were focused on me when he dared to glare
at me like that.

After tea, he let me be. He was kind enough to
move on. He got into an old jalopy of sorts and rode
off down the road laughing. I stayed and ate a few
more crumpets brushed with confectionary sugar.
I dunked them in my tea. It was an orange spice blend,
the type to warm your bones and send your heart
soaring. It was a lovely afternoon.

Once I was finished dining, I walked back up the path
and found a nice tree to lie down under. I fell asleep
for hours, it seemed, and then the thunder woke me up.
Lightning brightened the sky and I,
a little weary from the event, had to count the
money I'd spent but couldn't quite figure it out
since it was gone. How do you count something
that isn't there? I wondered this for a while
and then for another while again.

An odd little creature held his coat over my head
while escorting me to shelter from the rain.
I can't describe him exactly but I can tell you he
appeared to be a lizard, or had a lizard face at least,
and was half as tall as me. He never spoke. He didn't
mention his name. He wore a top hat, carried a cane,
took his coat off to cover my head from the rain.

This was only a fraction of my day today
and now I'm tired. Tomorrow when we meet, my sweet
new friend, we'll have to talk to the butler that I hired.
He will bring the sugar for our tea.
I'll take two lumps. Better in the cup
than on my head.

I have an ache tonight between my ears
because I fear, it so appears, that I took two upon
my brow today some time while trying to find my way
through the entire fiasco.

If I could only find that door mouse, maybe he could sing
to me yes! And sing to you, too! My brain is so hot, on fire
like I spilled tabasco on my crumpets by accident.
This has not been an easy day for me.
The highlight was the tea
with the Hatter, though as mad as he could be
he wasn't really mad at me and that's why
it worked out pretty well.

I'm still awake as far as I can tell.
That's always the most difficult part
to decipher.

[revolutionrabbit]

i was born in a rabbit hole
and i always wanted to know
how deep does the rabbit hole go

the late 60's was a blast from the past
and the future, when the incense and
peppermints just seemed to last and last
"who cares for games we chose, little
to win and nothing to lose"

comin out of the wild psychedelic storm
i need a way to write all this all down
but i did not know if i could write at all
it was almost as if i had to remove some
spell, some social awkwardness that had
hit me like a if i had a hammer
i knew not much about grammar
i had become a social misfit, i could
not hardly even begin to express the
things i felt inside, i was hiding
and trying to escape

one fine day, one of the most beautiful girls
in my high school said to me out of the blue
write a poem for me. and it just hit me
that was what i had to do, find a way
to write a poem that would tell it all

when the future finally arrived it was still comin
out of that rabbit hole past, and out of that came
Gone Hallucinogen Freeway, just an honest story
about what it had been like for this here teenager
with the surrealism i had picked up on my journey
with that Alice through the looking glass refraction

[Doreen Peri]

Dear Diary,
I had to buy a new monitor because my Acer blew.
This one's called an Asus. It has a nice-sized screen,
24" wide and a resolution of 1920 x 1080.
Invested an extra $50 in a 4-year protection plan
just in case this one decides to blow.

See how "new" rhymes with "blew"?
See how "1080" rhymes with"blow"?
Of course you do.
What do you know?

I could rhyme in daylight. I could rhyme in the dark.
That's why my poetry is so Hallmark!

But back to the story of the day.
Before, when I had my Acer, I had to log-on two times
in order for the log-on to take. I thought it was the way
my Safari browser was working. A cookie problem, perhaps.
But now with the Asus, I only long-on once and bingo! I'm in!
I changed no settings on my browser, didn't touch a thing.
How can a monitor make such a positive change?
I didn't touch the preferences, didn't rearrange
the cash or the cookies.
"Change" rhymes with "rearrange."
Does that make me a poetry rookie?

I do like to rhyme, I confess, Dear Diary, my friend.
I could rhyme for days, for weeks, for months,
hell, I could rhyme until the world comes to an end.
It's so much fun, I'm telling you!
I do it on a lark!
I'm seriously considering applying for a job
at my favorite store..... Hallmark!

Well, Dear Diary, it's time for me to go right now.
I have to go to work and figure out how
to create some stuff which will warrant pay.
And after work, I'm going to study hard
to learn how to make my poetry more cliché.
It's something that I strive for, something I must do!
And so farewell, my Dear Diary.
I wish a good day to you.

your friend,

Doreen Peri

[SadLuckDame]

I'd read it Rabbit
sounds my cup of tea
as soon as I'm done breaded
broke. It'll mean more saving
up for it. Thanks for getting it out there.

Alice Temper

[revolutionrabbit]

thank you, for the thought, lady, the reason i began writing poetry, was because i saw it as a journey, and as a vehicle for self transformation, what does that mean? It means that each person that looks into the their own soul, becomes a voyant, in the words of Rimbaud..."it is necessary to be a voyant...to become a voyant"

The Poet makes himself a voyant by a long, immense and rational derangement of all the senses. All the forms of love, suffering, and madness. He searches himself. He exhausts all poisons in himself and keeps only their quintessences.

this was the key that i used to unlock the unconscious, to undertake that perilous down going into the deep self.All else is a curse, an obstacle in the path of the self-respecting poet, in order to accomplish this vital task, one must concentrate all ones psychic energy, as language itself must be entered into in the fullest, in order to arrive at the universal language,

the quintessence, remember all else is a snare.as Rimbaud continued:

He is responsible for humanity, for animals even. He will have to make his inventions smelt, touched, and heard. A language must be found. Moreover, every word [utterance] being an idea, the time of a Universal Language will come !

thank you again...and good writing, peace, love and diggers

[sooZen]

Dear Diary

Diary looks a lot like Dairy
but is not as creamy

Today I will pick the last of the pomegranates if plans don't go awry
but one never knows
(Plans have a way of going their own ways despite intentions
it is what it is)
They are perfectly ripe, those pomegranates and I can tell
the birds tell me
Bird shit is decorating some of them but it makes me think
fertilizer
Cow shit is okay but bird shit is better
or so 'they' say

My studio is unattended and unloved right now
it beckons to me
Dreams of design rumble like an old Rambler in my head
top down and cruising
I must kick my ass to kick start this old babe but the deck
it calls to me
Sitting and watching the birds eat pomegranates
is my kind of art

Even sitting here talking to you could be considered
a waste of time...

But, who cares? Not I, not me or my selves.
sometimes Life is just perfect just as it is
Isn't it dear diary? Time for some milk.

[SadLuckDame]

Ill, only to heal
by the tail
I devour.

To the Magician
for showing me a perfect
circle.

Yes, I hear that.
I'm on a diet.
Just the basics.

[gypsyjoker]

Sitting on my front stoop watching the stray cats make their rounds tonight.
No outside cats allowed here
But everyone feeds them
Nine old women
One is a witch
She has a statue of St Francis in front of her apartment
She has declawed her cat
No irony there
And my grandmother was always standing guard over me
making sure no one would put the evil eye on me.

my poetry is hipper than yours
yugo ego me-go leggo
on and on and on
it goes

I am a poet and you are not
so there it is.

[SadLuckDame]

Yours may be better now,
but what about tomorrow?
Who here has more hunger?
I ask Jack.

Jack, which of us can down
more of this gallon of JD?
Jack says, 'She will."

neener neener neener

[stilltrucking]

dag nabbit
don't make me smile
don't make me laugh
this is serious

Race you to the river

[SadLuckDame]

I'm wearing a dress
beat you in.

[stilltrucking]

me too

[SadLuckDame]

I've more practice
on the fastenings
confidence in dressing
or undressing

strip tease
I've almost mastered it.

[Diana Moon Glampers]

I can walk a a mile in my sister's panty hose
(the Joe Nameth model with the fly)
But I can't walk a mile in her shoes
they hurt my ankules (thinking about W.C. Fields pronunciation of the word)

[Doreen Peri]

Dear Diary,

Yesterday I was so lost
if I found myself,
I wouldn't know
where I was.

Today, I'm right here
doing exactly what
a lost person does.

I'm looking for solutions,
seeking out remedies
and love.

I'm down below down
but above above..

It's an awkward place to be,
I'm sure you know that's true.

But at least, Dear Diary,
I know exactly were I am.

I'm sitting here writing to you.