Illustration Friday: Hatch

My scanner isn't working properly :[.

I was trying to write in my journal, but was uninspired, so I drew all over an old entry instead.

Illustration Friday: Entangle

handless people mesh with
wicked minded hands
entangle with wicked thoughts
actuating the hands

ineffectual dexterity
plucking anemone tentacles
from sex books strung
together like beads

feeling foreign philosophies with
acquired unstable tactility
organizes books, but
salvaging anemone is futile


only a week late, but oh well, thought I'd post it anyway.

Metaphor

on I-10, I’m a silver Honda
conservative fuel efficient four cylinder
headers’ asphalt fantasies
obscured by exhaust

windshield cracked
paint fading to grey
factory radio screams lithium rock
speakers can’t keep pace

broken road taunting
with broken limits
concrete barrier keeps me east bound
constructing civility before rage

weaving through traffic unnoticed
hurrying nowhere
sunsets seen only
in the rearview mirror

Plunge

Plunge…

into Forbidden Lake
warm waters massage aching feet
pushing pain out through pores
orgasmic dispelling of anger
defecation floats to waves above
resurrected desires sink
into ripples of light







See more Beach Birds at Silk Creek Portal.

Funeral for a Friend

Funeral for a Friend

They cut away at her
attempting to starve the demon
possessing her bones
They force her to run
using all remaining strength
to a chapel door
An alter candle burns out
the ascending medicated confusion
wafts and dissipates as
the door closes
Where was I?
Puking in the ditch
back on Zion Road

Diligence can’t prevent
the birth of guilt at death
Intercourse - an awkward exchange
of secret emotions in this pew
I don’t belong here
They judge me unfit
Disfellowship me

Gone But Not Forgotten

I took these photos back in February on my last trip to Galveston. I've been meaning to post them for sometime now, but have been very distracted lately.


This was taken at the east end of the island where the bird sanctuary used to be. Somebody named Chris spray painted the words "gone but not forgotten" on the steps. The clean up process after Hurricane Ike is going to take a while, but the birds are making do. There are more photos of birds on my other blog Silk Creek Portal.


This is where my favorite restaurant used to be. I'd park at the east end of the island, and walk about 2 or 3 miles, eat lunch, and then walk back.





I was so happy to see that there were still so many birds here.

Flying Blind

Missing in action, marked
by defective compass -
absent medications
dissolve his directions.

Magnetic arrow points
to twisted perceptions
Blindly navigating,
hurricane confusion,
he's high on delusion,
thinks his conscience intact.

Absence of his conscience
invincibility,
freedom - insanity.
Medications reveal
limit of directions,
compass calibrations,
labored navigation,

altering the compass
consciously


Invincible


Chemical Abandon

Special thanks to Ashok Karra and Sharon Warden for all their help with the poem!

Avatar Projections

Avatar Projections

Is there anybody out there?
Can you feel my cyber quivers -
fidgeting mouse uncertainty?
Hear my mp3 groans -
cracking backspace key?
Smell my electronic friction -
running fetid program RAM fumes?
See my pixelated facial expressions -
stuttering keyboard skittish smirks?
Am I real or virtual?

To be in the present is
to be alone
Winter feet blue
Hard drive hums speechless for days
Candle scents lack of hygiene
Week old pajamas can’t remember a smile
What do you see when you look at me?


This poem was inspired by an article I read the other day in a Psychotherapy Networker magazine called "Screenworld" by Michael Ventura.

Rants and Vents

laying in a bed of piss

cradle of birth
dried up
prolapsed -
once nurtured
topiary progeny
now lays in a
bed of piss

fruited heirs
drop buds of blame
divesting their guilt
“She did this to herself”
angry at her for
being angry at them


Cured

how many times
will you be cured?!
do you really think
I’m that stupid?
how many excuses
repeated time and again?
do you really think
I’ll come running?

you’re so much holier than me
God has chosen you
above all the sick and dying
healed, yet
you can not control the voices

you can not keep a job
you alienate those who care
do you really think
I’d believe you’ve been blessed?!


I Can Choose Not To Listen

“Thank you Jesus, for healing me”
He cries out
Wanting more pain meds
Refuses to take his psychotic meds
Doesn’t care how the hospital bill gets paid

“Just be strong and take care of things”
Clueless fatherly advice
Running thousands of miles away, so
He won’t see the mess he’s left
Thinks he can buy respect

Two generations of
Self righteous rhetoric
Spat out
Condescending benevolence for
Their own benefit

At my expense

Illustration Friday: Contained

The Caretaker

What use are you to us
When you make yourself sick
Wallowing in self pity
Won’t listen to our advice?

Because we’ve spent our money,
You have no excuse
You owe us an explanation
Nothing’s free

You are not living up to our expectations
We have given you what we deemed necessary
You have been judged to be in arrears

Now you need to return to
Your previous role!

BluerPrintReview Issue #19

The new issue of BluePrintReview is out, and my article The Season's Solace is included in it! Here's a note from the editor:

"the new issue of blueprintreview is online!
#19: beyond the silence

silence:
the absence of sound. refusal or failure to speak out. a period of time without speech or noise.

and beyond the silence?

unified fields . and voids. a terrible beauty. and a claustrophobic little boy. flowers. and a meeting with Oba-chan. the shape of grief. and the way it should be. the season's solace. and rain, rain...



yes, this one is a vast issue, both in theme and in size. it also marks a new level: again, there was a new peek of submissions. plus, blueprintreview was listed as one of the 100 favorite online journals by the Women's Poetry Listserv. parallel to that, i received my first hate-mail. (karmic balance, i guess).

here the shortcut beyond the silence: blueprintreview #19

and here the quick guide to the issue:
to start the silence, erase all the sacred texts.
to end it, remember the things you know by heart.

thanks so much for adding your tune to this issue ~
have a beautiful, inspired and magic year 2009 ~
doro"

Hippy Geometry

Hospice Engineering

Step into quadrilaterals
Stand and pivot for transfer
Train track keys of a player piano
Strike chords with apathy
Reverberate on rails of life and death
Geometric notes
Measured begrudgingly
Side by side into the next depot
Dirge of a run-away-train whistle

Step onto meshed polygons jumbled
Indifferent symmetry spirals within
Lounge car player piano
I’ve become an inconvenience
No scheduled destination
Black and white parallelograms
Depress and release
Clack-clack tracks below

Stand and pivot or
Remain confined to this berth
Parallel rails don’t reconcile



Linda Perhacs' Parallelograms
Paul called this "Hippy Geometry". LOL, I love it! Thanks for sending it to me, Paul.

Dream of the Gifted

Dream of the Gifted

long hair thick with power
a genetic gift
voice written with
celestial notes
underscored with chords of callow haughtiness

small stature belies her strength
delicate child climbs
ancestral monument
ancient stage carved with her heritage
searching through faces of history for
the source of mystery and power

suspended center stage
long sharp spear
once grasped, androgynous dancer
appears, amusing and entertaining until
self-indulgent curiosity pierces its human neck
rabbit face distraught
turns ominously toward her
“What have you done, child?”

daylight obscured
nature’s balance blackened
dance ends in death
severing lyrics from melody
darkened stage
keeps performing on its own
haunted, materializing
over abundance of food for her family

a score of negligent indulgence
is written
for her repertoire


I submitted the first draft of this poem to The Critique.
Dallas, an editor, offered many helpful suggestions that you can read if you follow the first link. Below is the first draft. Let me know what you think.

Gifted

youthful hair thick with power
and a voice written
with celestial notes
underscored with chords of callow
haughtiness
her tiny frame climbs
an ancestral monument
an ancient stage carved with her heritage
searching through faces of history
for the source of mystery and power

suspended center stage
a long sharp spear
once grasped, the androgynous dancer
appears… amusing and entertaining
until self-indulgent curiosity
pierces it’s neck
it’s rabbit face distraught
turns ominously toward her
“What have you done, child?”

blackened balance
ends the dance in death
severing lyrics from melody
the darkened stage
keeps performing though,
materializing
an over abundance of food
for her family

a score of negligent indulgence
is written for her
repertoire