Red

January 3, 2019 § Leave a comment

We know how Red feels

Warm

The more it is touched

Hot even

Inflamed

But how does Red taste?

Like blood? The blood of Christ?

Wine then.

Ruby Bordeaux with a ribeye

Seared blue

Red and blue coalesce into luxurious purple

The palatine shade of sovereign indulgence

Red meat on the bone and exclusive vintages

The color of a pulsing vein

Engorged with warm, hot, inflamed

Red

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The Long Trip to Paradise

November 13, 2018 § Leave a comment

A pineapple cookie in both shape and taste

8000 feet below are souls I’ll never meet

The newly wedded groom has beer, his bride, vodka

Three hours has exhausted polite small talk with giddy strangers

Shades pulled. We are a fuselage of midnight

Crossing coordinates our bodies cannot understand

No matter how patiently the brain explains

Night swallows the East as the West basks in gold

We glide ahead of shadows on the shoulder of Apollo

Classes separated by diaphanous curtains

The sounds of crystal, silver, smiles

Drift back in a cloud of gourmet aromas

To the starving ears and noses of the budget proles

Hush! London is sleeping. New York yawns.

The stomach of earth churns and vomits

Molten sick into the shivering Pacific

Eons of uncomforted turmoil and viola, Paradise

Salted nuts and a cold martini, sudoku, a movie

Words yet unexperienced assemble to be written home

On the pale paper underbelly of a stunning view

I dream of white noise in sleep’s fitful lap

Stiff, restless, motionless at the speed of sound

Sipping black coffee in heaven’s blue parlor

I smell an exotic flower blooming in the travel guide

Her ancestors adorned waving, brown bodies

Welcoming His Majesty’s brave sailors

Ravenous with ribs showing, thirsty mouths agape

Months adrift in Neptune’s wilderness

Surviving on salt pork, beetle and grog rations

We dine on pasta primavera, white wine, salad

The nectars of dry land restored a sailor’s faith

Finding God waiting for them in a heathen paradise

Puzzle Wit

November 2, 2018 § Leave a comment

A bright light in the Texas sky over Walmart. Also, spoke that guy in German. Joyce filled Ulysses with enough symbols and metaphors to keep readers busy for years and criticized critics who criticized him for his lack of prudence and restraint for being puzzle wits. How does one reach a puzzle wit who tosses your masterpiece aside for a fast paced bit of pulp fiction? Is the author responsible for edification or entertainment? A concertina is limited but can still play a memorable tune whereas the extended range of a clarinet playing Schoenberg is ignored and from it a hasty retreat is made. The bright light in the sky over Walmart advertised a special on bratwurst. Sausage is a popular menu item at a Texas barbecue restaurant. It is has lineage to early German and Czech settlers who got lost on their way to Midwest homesteads. Just like Ulysses. Well, sort of. I wouldn’t know for sure because I am a puzzle wit who tossed the novel aside to watch the Dallas Cowboys. My mother’s family is from Texas but are not German or Irish like the brilliant James Joyce. Or, for that matter, Czech like Kafka who said of Ulysses, “one should not write while drinking.” Kafka was an Eastern European puzzle wit who might have benefited from the vitamin D in the Texas sun but he would have found the sausage too spicy, probably.

The Lament of a Veggie Sandwich

July 5, 2018 § Leave a comment

veggie_sandwich

I’m the lonely veggie sandwich on the catering tray

No one wants to eat me and I’ll just get thrown away


Despite my zesty pesto and portobello meat

Ham and Swiss that old standby on rye is hard to beat


Grilled on open charcoal my zucchini hits that spot

Yet pastrami gets the attention with mustard that is hot


The tuna and the turkey breast are popular indeed

Even though I’m served on bread topped with pumpkin seed


Roast beef with smoked cheddar is a hearty midday meal

Yet somehow roasted peppers carry no appeal


Even the egg salad fills a culinary niche

Like curry chicken salad wraps, I might as well just be a quiche


Regardless of my first-rate healthy lifestyle cachet

I’m the lonely veggie sandwich who will be thrown away

For Leilani

May 14, 2018 § Leave a comment

Erupting Volcano credit Steven Hager

Photo credit Steven Hager

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am an active volcano
Beneath my mantle is magma fommented
Sulphur roils into toxic venting clouds

Seams tear through my crust, opening
Furious pools of boiling crimson, spitting
White, scaly ash in the air, landing
All over everything like oily snow

Capricious Pele is offered sacrificial ointments, salves and creams
Pacified, the inflamed goddess sleeps
Dormant for days, erupting again with no warning

And yet I am not Paradise rising
A gift to Heaven from the Sea
Covered in flowers, fruit, and trees

Swan

October 20, 2017 § Leave a comment

swan

I have nothing against the duck

They are very well and good

The emerald sheen on the mallard head

In the flesh or a decoy of wood

Yet sometimes they hint of discarded old shoes

On the banks filthy and wet

Then in glides the swan and all that is foul

We are obliged to forget

Penance of a Stampcrab

July 13, 2017 § Leave a comment

poor-little-piggie

If you are familiar with your Old English then you must know that the word “Stampcrab” refers to a person who is heavy-footed, clumsy and ungraceful.

Although I am slight of build, in days of yore I could have been known as Stampcrab Truelove especially by anyone living in the chambers below me or by the fair maiden accepting my invitation to dance the gigue.

My stampcrabbiness has landed me into more trouble recently in the form of a broken toe. Before the age of modern medicine this type of injury might have proven fatal but in 21st century it just serves as a painful reminder of my oafishness with every step.

There’s nothing wrong with my hands, thankfully, so I scratched out a little verse under the influence of Percocet while icing my poor little piggy.

Penance of Stampcrab

Every footfall, an electric prod of human frailty

Each limp betrays weakness to predators

Each and every slogging step sends a contrite apology

Ahead of me, people wait impatiently

Behind me, the swift curse at my heels, exasperated

The price of a clumsy gait through life

Rusted Honey

Poetry, haiku, tanka, and micropoetry

@ bittersweet diary

Floating thoughts, A place where my beautifully weird thoughts floating around in my mind are posted.

Klog

Culture, Politics and Abject Nonsense with the yolks broken

Covered in Beer

by Thomas Cochran