My Poetry Blog

[popo3737-blog]

Bad Memory

I should have known I’d lose my glasses

When a screw came tumbling out

When a screw came tumbling out

And I slipped them into my pocket

When the weight of the light sturdy frame

Felt a delicate chick

Methodically I slapped my thighs

But lost track of it quick

I should have known I’d lose my glasses

When I noticed the empty socket

I searched around but never found

The spot where they had vanished

[popo3737-blog]

On The Wall Enclosing The Butcher

In smashing, I wield a hammer,

50 gallons tall and wide and round

Such that I cannot feel the bones smashing or guts squishing

Yet the wooden smack electrifies me,

For not all vibrations can be dampened

Not all voices can be ignored

Reflective glass relies on light -

Although we keep our bulbs well-powered

(Pompous in our suave sunglasses)

There will come a day when they dim

And the rows and rows of revolutionaries

Will shine like fiery stars

And we will be forced back to our pews

And dollops of our hair will fall to the ground with a splat!

And the remaining truth will whimper in uselessness

According to our darkest fears

And, if they exist, the Great Supervisors will shake their heads

And wonder why, in predetermination,

Were we allowed unsupervised volition

Coupled with powerful weaponry and sleep masks?

[popo3737-blog]

Rock River

Walking here in this

Southern Californian wrinkle

I feel young old

Old young

Rocks turn beneath my feet

They flow without motion

The trees listen to me

I stop running, I stop walking

Butterflies fly

Moths sink

The dry hills fold, origami

Shape to my paper skin

From which heat extracts moisture

Leaves me warped, wrinkled

Like this barren turf

Of forgotten calmness

Uninquisitive

Unsoliciting

Antiaware

Negameta

A pointed punctuation to your

Golden Rectangle

Which otherwise spirals Inward

Hour upon hour

And on the hour

I’m due back at my post

[popo3737-blog]

Shattered Flower Field

Scattered brown roses

City with empty vases and trash cans

For when time allows, lighted for painting

Searching up through the blue holes between the grey squares

Commuters being efficient

But they missed the dirt in the pavement

Eventually it piled up and ants gravitated

Where dreams shrink as aspirations grow,

Mobility is imobile

Brown roses scattered, though putrid,

Surprisingly veiled by the thick

Fog of Tomorrow

[popo3737-blog]

Screen Roast

I was pretty proud of this roast one until I realized it could be interpreted as an anti-immigration poem... :( thats NOT the intent but probably this will not go anywhere due to that possibility. The ships are metaphors for mobility, not literal ships. Come on guys! Redburn scraped my side cheek, it was high noon at the quay Stormy ships approached me from the high sea towards the bay And though the great white star dried out my eyes with awesome heat I grasped my plastic armchair and stayed planted in my seat Blisters bore new brothers on the tippy of my toes Crusted until crumbled was the pointedge of my nose “Is he but a statue!” cried my homeless kin “Yes” did I reply and still I overlooked the sin I knew The sailors all were fink rats and were dressed in minor’s clothes Their metal little fingers tap and type for ore and gold As quickly as they came still quicker will they go And leave me and my pool chair in this leather heat to close I’ll throw away their trash and I’ll give their children hugs I’ll brush up the broken pieces of their bright company mugs And as they use their profit to go traveling around I’ll do everything I can to stay planted to the ground

[popo3737-blog]

Starvation

In the absence of actual sustenance,

A little lard can go far

[popo3737-blog]

Mesmerization

I thought I saw you by the ice cream truck

You were hoping for mint chocolate chip

I thought I saw you at the record store

You asked the clerk who sang that hit

I thought I saw you on the playground

You were bouncing the ball

I thought I saw you at the cafeteria

You were the shortest one of all

I thought I saw you in the game room

You were complaining about losing

I thought I saw you by the amplifiers

Your ears were filling up with hum

I thought I saw you on the airplane

You were communicating with your network

I thought I saw you in the everglades

You were just a gator

I thought I saw you hurry to your midterm

You were an angel out of nowhere

I thought I saw you at the barbers

You were cutting someone’s hair

I thought I saw you at the burrito bar

You ordered chicken

I thought I saw you at OVT

You had an oversized razor scooter

I thought I saw you at the res hall

You were drinking my desire

I thought I saw you at the track

You nearly made me collapse

I thought I saw you in the clearing

You said goodbye forever

I thought I saw you a few years later

I never saw you again

I thought I saw you on the subway

You were looking down

I thought I saw you while I was biking

Whirring through the crowd

I thought I saw you at the gym

You pegged me with the ping pong

I thought I saw you in the lab

You worked far too hard and long

I thought I saw you in the hallway

You wore tears of expectation

I thought I saw you in the market

Eyeing up the beef tongue

I thought I saw you in the mirror

But what I saw was me

I went back to the desert

I rolled in the dust

I went back to the drum set

I broke the crash

I went back to the ocean

I listened to the memories

I went back to the garage

I was the keyboardist

I went back to programming

I was the 40 hour man

I went back to the game room

I worked on my end game

I went back to the studio

It was right where I left it

I went back to where I thought I saw you

I went back to where I thought I saw you

I went back to where I thought I saw you

I went back to where I thought I saw you

[popo3737-blog]

The End

And that’s a wrap! I didn’t quite get a poem every day, but I still ended up with 28 poems in 32 days. I think with these things it’s important to not get too wrapped up in following through perfectly, or disappointed in yourself if you don’t follow the rules, but to keep going regardless.  Not all the poems I wrote were keepers, but I was able to explore a lot of different forms, styles, and topics in the last month, and I walk away with a surprising amount of solid poems, or solid starts to poems.  I think with a little editing, a subset of these could turn into a collection that I’m proud of. I’ll try to make that happen next year. A lot of these ideas were preconceived, but some started with me rambling at 11:30 at night, and interestingly enough there were good ideas that came from both approaches. And through it all, I think a voice I can call my own began to emerge.  I won’t be posting regularly to this in the foreseeable future, but I might occasionally put stuff here if any poems come to me. Merry Christmas, thanks for reading, and here’s to welcoming the new fresh year ahead! - Chris

[popo3737-blog]

28. Kaleidoscope #2

acorn beak

resolute peak

 bathtub percussion

roasting God

what dinner?

 beyond chemical

network ears

jungle improvement

 blanket skeleton

concrete horizon

tension nibble

ambition disposition

personality integration

 Comfort tasks

disembodiment stretches

loop fatigue

 news nostrils

nose questions

slight barbecue

 possible piles

deserted containment

television home

 Names boundaries

use Mountains?

Lack task

thankless Isolation.

 Bald together

personality can

turtle pad

 big fading

harmonic victory

denial scent

Ink pant

cap memory

Ruined insides

 nylon keys

plastic sliced

2 wooden cavities

 tender oil

frets saw

 crack effort

Laugh context

enter dampened

Saliva encroaches

Uncured warning

 chk

[popo3737-blog]

27. The Adventure

On an otherwise ordinary day, he detoured and

heading leftward, came upon numerous birds

like a rope in a sky, ascending uniformly and single file

Through the crisp air, acorn in beak, unhurriedly,

resolute yet detached, they journeyed to the peak,

dropped the seed, and flew out beyond sight

A process of accumulation which must have proceeded for days

Millions of acorns towering thousands of feet tall

When he came to, immediately he backpedaled

He hightailed it out of there

for he smelled blackness and demons in the foreign earth

An unusual petrichor that strictly reminded him

why the trail bends to the right

[popo3737-blog]

26. In The Trenches

I am sitting in silence

Legs crossed, hips open

Back straight, abdomen relaxed but supportive

Shoulders rolled back, palms facing upward

Knuckles on knees, neck loose and extended

Eyes closed. Conscious breath.

Body in unison, planted to the acrylic tub

Practicing close listening

The hiss of the faucet, seemingly steady but

A granular composition of instability

An unpitched symphony

My body, the bathtub, all percussion

Sound synchronized with sensation

Heightened attention to the changes in temperature,

The layers of wetness, the massage of rain

Rain limited to this enclosure, this artificial cave

Premeditated and practiced are my actions

Conditions controlled in my artificial cave

A layer of clothing, a correcting tilt

Is this latest stage in the never-ending journey to equilibrium

[popo3737-blog]

25. Confirmation

What’s roasting in that pan, God?

Are there chestnuts for my tea?

Is there corn, ready to jump?

It must be brimming with potential energy.

The oncoming stench is familiar but unidentifiable.

The sounds are intriguing.

This kitchen is spacious, the table seats a family, I set it for two.

What are we having for dinner?

What hovers above the stove’s blue flame?

Beyond the hiss of gas, the crackling chemical reactions,

Above our roof, reflecting along the arena boundaries, in the blues and greys,

Are waves, networks, you must hear them with your omnifrequntial ears

Only you could parse this noise into signals

Questions and queries, antsier and more nascent with age

Observing...boredom masquerading as curiosity and concern

I know this as an active participant, a navigator

This murky jungle encourages introspection towards home improvement

In actuality, it incites misappellation

I want something healthy

But as you know, in your omnipotence,

I am the omnivore, The Voracious One

I will devour what you put on my plate

And I volunteer to wash the dishes

[popo3737-blog]

24. Freestyle

Left. Cover me with a blanket. Right. My skeleton is a concrete pole. Left. Push my eyes under the horizon. Right. Unconscious breath cannot be regular. Left. Dissolve asymmetry to obliterate tension. Right. Memorize one second. Left. What can I do. Right. With a nibble of time. Left. Simultaneously above. Right. And below. Left. Motion trumps. Right. Emotion.

I, recognize, ambition and, accept my motivation. I also acknowledge that, my disposition and personality, facilitate integration and, overall provide ease and comfort, to otherwise challenging tasks. For this I am grateful yet proceeding warily.

Left. Static scenery opens to detail. Right. Other bodies can be observed playing and prodding. Left. Debate myself using persisting. Right. Experience leads toward disembodiment. Left. Time stretches like lane lines. Right. Stuck in a loop. Left. Fatigue fatigue. Right. Progress identified. Left. Moments captured. Right. And released. Left. Rush. Right. Home.

[popo3737-blog]

23. Dance For Rain

Check the news for answers. Reset the table slightly humbler. Outside, dry nostrils, ashes clung to nose hair. Sleep with ears wide open. Ask repeated questions with slight variations. Hours pass looking at the same pictures. We passed the barbecue in silence. One way traffic, a return flight later if possible. Piles of clutter saved, piles of clutter deserted. Counting containment, speed, distance, growth, destruction. Welcoming waves at our new and temporary home. Smoke abound announced “I am here”. Plan for change, if. The television sang warning songs. Return to our old new home. Answer repeated questions with slight variations. Thoughts fled for fear.

[popo3737-blog]

22. Ruminations

Should I redraw the map? I have my pencil and paper ready.

How many countries are there? What are their names? Where are the boundaries? What colors should I use? Do I include states? Mountains? Where are you from? Point to it. My local geography is looking much more detailed than over there. All I can imagine are shadows.

Miles and miles of lack. But my task must be completed. I am drawing the shapes of shadows. Get your hands off of me!

In the end, my categories leave something to be desired. To be redesigned. It will happen, sooner than later. It is my thankless task to be tried

in Isolation.

[popo3737-blog]

21. Lunch Poems

There are so many strands of hair on my head

Like cards in a deck, or gravel

Each day I remove one

I lay them out like dominos

How can I choose between them?

They all belong. Where will they fall?

I’ll be bald. What are they together?

A house of cards. A magic trick?

No, there is no magic here. Only personality.

How much personality can be found in such a thin slice of me?

[popo3737-blog]

20. Reverence

There once was a turtle

Now I have an elbow pad

It doesn’t make any sense

I need two, or four

The turtle lived a long life, I think

Turtles, as animals, demand respect

Mostly for metaphorical applicability

But the shell was right there, among the rocks!

And in the time it took to scan my surroundings

I had decided, and there was no sound of scurrying

Besides my own

And from this I gather

That when someone calls me short

As I give my lectures

I cannot complain