Obstreperous

featured in the poetry forum May 1, 2019  :: 0 comments

The sky is angry mouth where a plum used to be
Quick color the departure walls
O! Lord, I can’t believe the news
Everywhere shimmering sudden light

Hey! Do you want to go the Featherwood Hospital?
Anodyne stat!
Hey Doctor! Nothing touches the tired spot.

Clip the clouds from the fingers
Everywhere simmering sudden light.

Let’s check into the Featherwood Hospital.
A tin man, do I have a heart?
Oh no! check my pulse
Quick call a nurse
I’m getting worse!

Wood or feather?
Doctor! Doctor!
What do you prescribe?

editors note:

Diagnose the malady ‘fore dashing off the remedy. Recover or reverse. Yes. Call a nurse! – mh clay

Oh, Not Again

featured in the poetry forum December 15, 2018  :: 0 comments

She has a halo you can
Always almost see
Her kiss will not set
You free
It lingers like a hook
Now you wriggle on
The line
Tasted
You are rotten fruit
On the vine
Wasted
The problem
Wasn’t your
Bad advice
It was
That I took
It.

editors note: The dupe after the dare. (See – and hear – another mad splash on Zim’s page – check it out!) – mh clay

Flamingo

December 15, 2018  :: 0 comments

Hooker spit in my Listerine,
Magic fingers of the professional
We found each other on Bourbon Street,
Got together for a little party
In a rented room around the corner from the old selling block.
The ghosts blinded Satan
Tabasco sauce pooled in eye sockets.
Jesus drunk with Buddha in the alley
Behind the bar smoking a spliff.
God is with his harem.
Oh friends, Feast!
Eating chilled Jim Morrison brain
As an appetizer.
It’s just all a flamingo lobotomy.
Just a flamingo lobotomy.
Flamingo.

Mad Wet Elves

featured in the poetry forum December 22, 2017  :: 0 comments

The unhappiness of sleep paralysis thoughts,
Straitjacket of seaweed and jellyfish tentacles,
A sea hag, heavy as an anchor, rusting on insomniac breath.
Stronger than sleeping pills, trying all the sweat wet pillows again,
What lie will we tell the children
When Santa’s Workshop falls through the thin ice at the North Pole?

Will History label us Stupid or Mean?

What lie will we tell the children
When Santa’s Workshop comes to rest on the Arctic seafloor?

Santa Claus entombed. Mrs. Claus in Tucson sobbing.
His mad wet elves coming ashore
On the backs of the last polar bears.

The Mont Blanc glacier in reverse has no brakes.
The hotel bar is now on the rocks.
The fighting Poets shout at each other with broken noses,
Blacked eyes, bloodied knuckles, spitting loose teeth at each other
“Stupid!”
“Mean!”

editors note:

Another holiday donnybrook; this time between poets for the right to lie and to write the lie rightly. No “L”. – mh clay

New Mexico

featured in the poetry forum August 5, 2017  :: 0 comments

I am old crow
Scalpel beak a sonorous horn
My star spangled smile
Seems smooth
On the atomic level
I am jagged as the crest
As the sun comes over the mountain
I stand astride the continental divide
Tears flowing from one eye going to the Pacific Ocean
Tears flowing from the other going to the Atlantic Ocean
Here I stand on this obsidian razor blade
This edge moment time
The dawn line comes
Cartwheels across me now
I remember her because I see
The dawn line reveals
The murder of morning crows
Jettisoned from shadow’s rest
Two pairs swing on their wings
So black they flash nitrous
Each swoop in the warming air
Binds their lifetime bond tighter
I am lone crow
She’s gone
I clutch my talons tightest on this empty telephone wire quivering
On the edge of I-10 staring west
As the moon is torn from its own face
Leaving black flashing silver
Her smile sparkles
Opalina eyes
They tear like crude rainbows
On the wet stone sharpening our knives
Holding our breath
Kiss kiss kiss
Breath is black hole melancholia
I am lone crow witness
Talons clutched tightest on empty wire
Her shadow wing is passing
Is a kiss on the cheek
5 senses cooking up
Face fireworking 4th of July
Alcoholic hole for eyes
Grab me inside, Melancholia
Just where she wants me
On the heartstring plucking it with her talon
We fly in mad memory
Punctilious Blue Angels
Unaware we uncaring of the dangers of love
Flyingsoclose
That if we touch
We’d fall from the sky and die
So closer and closer we move on the air
I just want
Her talon tap on the heart string
Our shadows hover inside each other
We kiss our beaks
Against the dawn line
Revealing a murder
The jettisoned pairs
Beating their wings
Straddling the continental divide
I am seemingly smooth
But jagged as a mountain mourning.

editors note:

Cross-country cogitations on the consequences of crows. (Read another fine set-o’-lines from Chris on his page; it’s a hot (sweet) one.) – mh clay

Texas in the Summer

August 5, 2017  :: 0 comments

It’s so hot
The sweaty business is
We are going
To love or die
Kissing tongue of the sun
Licks the steamy grass
Melting into brown sugar
Yellow sky
Full eyes squinting
Sugar sand squeaks
Wiggling under bare feet
Sleeping in the shade
With a breeze blanket
Covering me today
In poetry dreams
Joy in the waking of words
Breathing deep
Blowing air, 15 dolphins
Leave little plumes
Passing flowers exploding
Like the 4th of July
Lovely

editors note:

Hot and sweet, together; Texas style. – mh clay

King of Misfit Toys

featured in the poetry forum November 2, 2016  :: 0 comments

I bow before you the king of misfit toys
Always wearing a hole
Always leaving a stain
I didn’t mean to frighten you
I was just thinking like I do
All these years of darkness fondling the dream
Angel versus devil they seem the same thing
All the colors of hurt wing
When love is the hardest thing
Try to fly on a broken wing
When love is the hardest thing

editors note:

To remove a malignancy, yet leave the heart intact; so hard, indeed. (Read another of Chris’s creations; something to crow about, on his page – check it out). – mh clay

Black Crow

November 2, 2016  :: 0 comments

½ way to Death
Exercising this degrading echo
Snatching up in a beak click
Shardied broken mirror
To offer my Love
A trinket of
Adoration

editors note:

To the victor go the spoils. – mh clay

Strayling

featured in the poetry forum December 19, 2015  :: 0 comments

For many sunsets I went out
Into the fields of my home’s
Longitude and latitude,
Desiderium heavy on my heart
Wondering why the winds encourage
Wings casting shadows brushing lips
And then blow them on their way
The gentle fingertips speaking in Braille language
I do not know
My maps are tuned upside down
Which way to go?
Strayling when They showed me the suicide room
I refused to pull the trigger
So, I fell out of the window, window
The breeze was delicious
There I was wing walking on a bi-plane
Buzzing the State Fair of Texas, 1936
The sky a blue bonnet meadow
The wind and I making out
She kissing back my scarf
Like I was, Fancy
She touches with her tongue
Vibrating carillon of thoughts
Tuning atoms to Yes
Witness the altitude
From the edge of a silver wing
Velocity angling me away
I was a fish made of butter in a hot hand
A smile memory melts me
Smearing the seams
Shaking out the stuffing animal
The buttons were unbuttoning
The zippers were unzipping
Shoe laces were untying
A eulogy burdened by desiderium
All was strayling in the wake
I was a comet hat scarecrow
Losing bit by bit the splattering birds
Were taking away my straw
To weave their nidified nests
I was becoming less and less of a real thing
Until I was just fluttering fabric
A flag eaten by the wind
My hat caught in the briar

What.

What?

What
Have I become?

editors note:

What? What ever, what not, what gives? What, ye merry! What, indeed! – mh clay

No Luche Contra El Corriente

March 14, 2015  :: 2 comments

From out of the water, resting in the woods
There you found me like you knew you would.
Liberty, the stroke of midnight’s mouth,
In a staring contest with a mirror,
I wonder which one is me.
Now deep enough in the water
The riptide pulls me free,
I am the angel and the echo
Foolishly fighting what must be