"...the mind's muddy river, this ceaseless flow of trivia and trash, cannot be dammed, and that trying to dam it is a waste of effort that might lead to madness." - Anne Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
the debris of me
there are signs of me everywhere
lying amongst the debris of life
rubber soles stare up from the rubbish
they once allowed me to tread carefully
atop the decisions I made
but they remained slippery and unnavigable
so the shoes and my stability
ended up tossed away and forgotten
that discarded soapbox
is the one I used to stand upon
and preach beliefs unfounded yet heartfelt
how I liked the sound of my voice
until I realized it was the only one I ever heard
if you look longer more of me will appear
like that postcard partly buried in the dirt
depicting a place I once visited
but whose memory
could only be recalled by a picture
on a flimsy piece of paper
how transitory it all is, and was
what is this? a comic book?
how appropriate
sequential snapshots of scenes
reminiscent of a life lived haphazardly
and at times colorfully ignorant of reality
ah, a sea shell, beautiful and delicate
like the one of innocence I had when young
that grew hard and resilient with maturity
there are signs of me everywhere
lying amongst the debris of life
all you need do is look
and see the garbage
that once was me
Inspired by Friday Five at
PoefusionThis weeks words are a tribute to Lewis Carroll's Jabberwocky:
caprussule - mozzle - cack - skrey - glureon
Note: I gave caprussule an accent so it would rhyme with skrey
Mozzle Proofing
math is awfully, awfully hard
but if you mind and listen
I can teach you such a trick
your learning will it hasten
one and one is usually two
three and four will follow
but when you have to minus five
you’ll always get a mozzle
unless of course you have cack
then please do add a skrey
if you don’t you’re always left
with a mean caprussulé
have you written all this down
I see you’re still confused
but if I run it through again
you’re sure to be enthused
two and two can make four
eight and nine no less
but then you have to add one more
for a glureon regress
I see you’ve got it written down
I’m proud that you have learned
how cacks and skreys will always
add up to a mozzle spurned
so math is really not that hard
it’s only the equations
that make us want to smash
our heads on multiple occasions
I hope my prose has helped you dear
to figure out the truth
math consists of made up words
that truly lack some couth
***
Okay, I’ve probably pissed off a few mathematicians out there but I will have you know I got straight A’s in college level math. But come on - quintic, polyhedral, Gaussian elimination?
So, yeah, don't be trippin’ over my dividing a few cacks and skeys to proof my mozzle. Okay?
Division
avocado eyes glistening
each a hemisphere of pain
watching the wall of rejection
go up between you and I
each brick an accusation
built one upon another
as high as the ceiling of hope
she once had for reconciliation
our hurtful words the
gasoline fueling indignation
lengthening the miles
between her understanding
and the justification for
why these loving parents
have torn her world in two
Inspired by Friday Five at
Poefusion
Meandering Musesfizzy, hissing, bubbling thoughts
percolate in the deep recesses of my mind
surfacing amid the
rabble of rationality
seeking the safety of solid logic
not finding any place to land
these figments of fantasy
become floating islands on the
freckled facade of my consciousness
above the bedlam a
Sylph appears
taking pity upon these meandering muses
her subtle
suasion gently guiding
them to safe harbor and home
Friday 5 from Poefusion
racket - snug - green - boggle - snake
Serpentine Love by J.C. Montgomery
Snug in the comfort of a den amongst others of your kind, you only
Emerge to find that single solitary spot which will warm the
Reptilian blood that courses through your iridescent green body
Purple highlights tinged with red boggle the mind and senses as you
Entrance onlookers with the sly, undulating movements of your body
Nothing escapes your perception except the din and racket of pounding hearts
Tortured by the thought of your fangs against their skin
I am enamored by your grace and the power of your being
Not once have I ever feared that which you are, or the death you inject with
Each grind of your jaw, no I am not afraid of you, my serpent, my snake, my love
