poetry

Five minute poem?

Following the example of Schmutzie via a project from Amy Turn Sharp, here's a poem that took five minutes to write. I had no subject or particular place to go with this, but I decided to post the result, no matter what.

“His father in law is Ingmar Bergman,” houseguest says.
Spouse generalizes, pulls a thread out into a balloon,
which is where we go, on a raft that feels like spoons
lashed together from suppositions.
Spoons gathering water, each taking on their tiny share,
and down we go.
Full fathom five my facebook updates,
my networks going on without me
like a horn that pours forth salt into the oceans,
just brining up the place.
What a waste.
I've got places to go, copyrights to infringe,
a beard to brush out before the ants come
on their tiny feet.

poems for monsters #9: a dream of spiderman (with video!)

Poems for Monsters is making the leap to video, which is all in keeping with the tremendous leaps in camcorder technology over the last forty years. If I'd done this in 1973, there's no way I would have been able to afford the equipment and time to bring you my poetry (sic) in such an exciting format. Add to that the complete lack of internet, the absence of Flash video and the fact that I was two years old in 1973. So you can see why it took me so long to put this together.

Anyway.

Note for Facebook users: If the video isn't showing up on my feed, you can see it on my website In Palinode's Palace.

Poems for Monsters #8: Grimace

Hello burger lovers –
Have we got a surprise
For you. Grimace –

Our lovable mascot –
Has come to play.
So smile as Grimace goes by.

And – we cannot
emphasize this enough –
do not move

or sip your drinks or speak
above a whisper. Do not whimper
when Grimace goes by.

Quiet your babies, think
softly – picture a meadow
when Grimace goes by.

Avoid his shadow.
Plug your ears.
When Grimace leaves

The staff will come by
to dispose of your food
and give you a Happy

Meal, with a smile.

Poems for Monsters #6: The Borg

Data come down and seduce
these Borg away

they’re building a colony
on the corner lot

and I know I shouldn’t
judge

but what the hell? Their house
is a giant metal cube

They ruin every barbecue
with their folk songs

and have you smelled a Borg on a hot day?

They say their connections
corrode in a bath

but really
Data come down

and decode their molecular desires
into dumb atoms

We’ve been lost
ever since they came

Poems for Monsters #3: Zombies

Attention all staff
Please stop with the shopping cart
zombie races

Shoppers have complained
of finding zombie pieces
in their groceries

Furthermore

Management asks that
staff cease pretending the heads
are promotional items

Heads are not promo
Items – they smell and they bite
and some of them curse

Some of you no doubt
have nothing better to do
with your coffee breaks

Than use company
property like spoiled children
Nice attitude folks

We do not accept
responsibility for
the unsanctioned dead

And we are tired of
hosing down the parking lot
during zombie hours

Thank you

Poems for Monsters #2: Frankenstein

Ten minutes left on our coffee break
But there’s no stopping Frankenstein's
Monster on a roll

Blah blah blah he says I was so misunderstood
Peasants and pitchforks and bolts in my skull
I just wanted my own set of Tesla coils
And a nice summer cottage
To play with children
And love goddamnit

Criminal tears trace scars on his face
Meanwhile the entire food court's gone quiet
They're wrapping and unwrapping sandwiches
Nesting birds at twilight
wondering if pine boughs and darkness will shelter them

Hey he says
Have you heard of dianetics?