Friday, August 31, 2012

Tigers and Gazelles

         (A Tritina For the Doppelganger within)

Tiger roaming free, a predator or prey?
Interminable, a quotient of your star
The teeth, my dentistry, agitate equivocally

Correlative in mien, virulent smiles perch equivocally
Dismiss thou ubiquity, thereupon apace; hie sweet prey
Lest ephemerally glint thy fulgent star

Ingénue, esurience wrests hold my star
Unseen tenets stir equivocally
E’er toggling ‘tween predator and prey

Sweetest Prey, beseeching star, fates aligned, equivocally.

Over at D'Verse,  Sam Peralta is hosting Form-For-All and has introduced us to a pretty fun form, the Tritina.  In short, it's somewhat related to the popular Sestina.  For more, I urge you to take the time and read his excellent write-up of the form, including the history of the form and a brief bio of it's originator.  Once finished reading Sam's article, click on the Linky and check out the Tristina's created by the other poets at D'Verse.  And, as always, if you feel inspired, create a Tristina of your own, and then share it with D'Verse.

Another quick note:

Been kind of off-line past couple days, well off the computer anyhow. I was able to read all the comments that came in, but never had a chance to properly thank all those who congratulated me on joining the D'Verse staff.  

It is an honor to step behind the bar and am looking forward to, hopefully, creating some really interesting and inspiring posts.  Everyone over at D'Verse is top notch, and I've always felt that way.  In fact, I've always felt like a part of the D'Verse crew, which I'm sure I'm not the only one to feel as such.  I assume this is due to the engagement of the staff, who've ever only been respectful, educated, and willing to share/inspire/expand what and who they are, with... well, basically the world. 

So, needless to say, but I am thrilled to be joining such fine poets and more importantly people.  Anyhow, thanks again to all those who offered their thanks and support, sorry about not replying personally to each, but did want to make mention here at least.  Ok, enough about me.  Head on over and get your Tritina on!!!  Cheers.

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Words Repeated By Children

There are certain things one restates
When in the company of children

And then there are those,
That lose all potency, when a softened
Stance is struck

There are certain things
That kids these days
unexpectedly repeat

They’ll spin back those nasty verbs
The ones you didn’t think
 they could’ve overheard

And oftentimes, they’ll use such terms
When an argument ensues

But instead of admonish them
You cannot hold back the red
And demand they repeat back what they just said

For there’s something inherently funny
when vulgarity is spoken by
innocent girls and boys

oftentimes, such a riot
you cannot remain quiet
and your laughter quickly turns to tears

which of course
is something children hold so dear,
that is, the sound of elation in you they’ve caused
so, unfortunately they’ll surely use such words again, if only to regain your delightful applause.

And so, to compensate
you create made-up languages to replace such words
Or simply become that parent that always and forever spells

Monday, August 27, 2012

Unrefined Opinions

An indentation fixed upon
Those spliced agendas
         Too often ignored

By salutations bred in happenstance,
An uneasy gullet appears, stirring forth an awkward shuffling of
         Distracted feet

“I think I’ll have Chinese”
“sounds great…ooh, I’m
getting the California roll”

Sometimes it’s best not to offer penance when there is not a scar to erase—
Sometimes it’s best to allow the errors come back naturally, rather than explaining away some insignificance…
Tell that to the Japanese….
Tempura right
Damn ignorance is like a jackknife into a pool of rocks
But, it’s an offense even the most cautious and
Deliberate must at some time defend—
         Which of course
Does not absolve the responsibility stirred
In restitution’s anti-trust…
         It most certainly doesn’t exonerate one from their bigotry, just because one was born that way, taught that way, only lived a life in an environment as such….for if it did
         Well then we’d wind up with too many jackasses on parade, evil so and so’s dancing about with equality’s severed head dangling from a blood soaked hand—
                                    And all of our disgust will swiftly wipe away with a singular flash of that mentos smile…glimmering in obnoxious pools of blissful unconsciousness
         Only to awake the next sunrise
Wondering where the throbbing brow was first born
         And when the recognition finally sifts the clues together, pasting the picture back to whole…the nausea hits

and overcompensation seems the natural recourse—which
will seem forced, be out of character, out of place—thusly
it’ll seem false—which, of course, it is…not the actions necessarily, but the motives behind them, and I sit here then, wondering, which type of bigotry is worse…

There’s no easy answer
Lengthy deliberation will
undoubtedly paint some foul
sometimes, it’s just best
to shut up and seem cold and uncaring—
which, of course, you can write off as being afflicted by demons you’re trying to sort out, or you are going through a bad patch, depression has a hold on you, yadda yadda yadda, and the like, all viable reasons, but those ready to condemn you, don’t care about what got you to where you are, they just want someone, anyone to blame…they want a goat, so once again, they can be reassured when they look in the mirror—

an epiphany delivers
it’s message, loud and clear
         like a drop of blood
                  in a lake so clear….

Sunday, August 26, 2012

Intemperance: The Insignificant Parallel of a Denigrating Identity

Bottles by Borg de Nobel / / used with permission /
For Poetics: Borg de Nobel @ D'Verse, hosted by Claudia Schoenfeld

9 to nine
aligned, atop some fragile ledge-
at least that is how it once appeared-
when we regretfully never paid much attention- to the
finite desires and infinite dreams of those details deemed
as immaterial noise-whitened by conundrum and muted under
the guise of second nature-

when we had already forgotten the appearance of our first

Broken, fragmented, blurring, shard-like daggers-
driven deep, from the imagined dimension residing
only inches behind the retinae-

Corroded by dancing apparitions,
unconcerned with division or caste-open wide,
lean back-until
the spine quivers from denial-
and then
through design
for antidotal reassurances-

where it won't matter
if you fabricate
the meaning and the mores
as long as the intention is
to propagate an atmosphere
unique to here

by lipstick and whitewash-
careening imagery
blends into smear-
only to seek shelter
from the dirty mugs that persevere-

the hours, drenched in withdrawal-
yet ever awakened at the slightest scent

elixirs, potions, prescient concoctions
potent yet potable
protraction in non-invasive postures-
bled fresh for that falsified sickness burrowed impossibly within


bottles of what-might-have-been,
condemned by their isolated indiscretions-
validated through witless reminiscence
and the scouring that envelopes all
enlivened beasts-

Where the frothing disturbances blink-
concomitantly with exaggerated frames-
originally built for the demons of phoresy-
the remoras of your world-worthless in
many ways, yet still, you allow them passage
in bewildering effervescence,
adulations, you've grown too frail to dwell upon

and despite all things antithetical to a state of proper
being, you gain a fondness, a possessive remorse unto-

alternating chromatics
imbuing the hearth with
flames that burn
flush, flashing forth from
a lost prism's fire-
where forgotten
invitations colate and concur
in dystopia's
cascading obfuscation

Make sure you head on over to D'Verse, and read through Claudia's excellent write up.  If you're like me, you'll really find the Q and A between her and Borg de Nobel fascinating.  Finding poetic inspiration through her art was extremely easy.  In fact, it was virtually impossible not to find inspiration.  That said, if you like this piece or any of the other's from Claudia's article, do yourself a favor and check out the artist's site, lots of excellent pieces there.

And, I guess, I might as well throw in some shameless self-promotion here.  I also paint for fun, digitally though, and have an art blog as well.  While not really even in the same conversation as the work Borg does, but I do a lot of abstract, experimental painting, that perhaps you might enjoy.

Saturday, August 25, 2012

Sashay (Suburban Slake)

Sashay to chasse
the heel’s followed close
by feet that flow—
so smooth, it seems
as if the toes really do

Antigone, a girl,
condemned to death
in a tragic display,
the edict of a king, which
forbid the flames to encompass
the air, avoiding the traditional
sense of burial…

Toggled in immaterial surrounds—
you peer the sky for answers found,
and while minutes fleece the glass it’s
sand, down stream tears to salten your
already softened cheeks—twas when hazed
eyes did glimmer, a reflection of a sinner—daft
as the street kids would call, scaling long the rails
beside that radiating hall…

In seconds sweetly tripping breath, your blood curdled
but not cold—for destiny had, in such a somber sequence
of might, may have offered you a second chance—as here the glass
of emptiness wince would not, and there, the ledge unseen
appeared as clear as dry your voice had been…and sidling
across you’re form inched slow, until opened a concealing grate, where frame and pane connect, but are not the same, but enough is much for foot to foot to enter most forward
of arch to heel, and into safety’s unsure blanket once more…revealed

First you drank your thirst aright, and then…then
you joined your truth there at dawn
after sashaying deep
until the night
was all but