Fancy HOV Ridin’

Balloons

surrealistic existentialism
late afternoon commute,
coasting in the bike lane
looking for things to do.

careers, oh so different.
with certainty, city explored.
older people, not one younger
high school students on the run.

time to ransack bookstores.
(only for compilations)
published. renounced.
such was the plan.

in good company,
cheeky thinking.
regional network,
structured naturally.

professor emeritus,
familiar with his family tree.
full of universal correctness,
(worthy of a doubt or two.)

signed up for his book club.
costly find. challenged participation.
opinions: affected by social conditions:
unfavorable disregard for niceties.

night ride? without illumination?
front wheel off, bike fits in his trunk.
homeward in eco-ready, light-auto —
stratospheric high-flying-occupant-car-pooler.

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Hear this on Sound Cloud

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Written for:

Magpie Tales – Mag 179

Also posted on:

Open Link Night ~ 107

Image credits: The Horrible Forest by *pesare on deviantart

nano-birthing chamber

Diamond nanowires are prepared inside carbon nanotubes by thermal annealing of diamantane-4,9-dicarboxylic acid under a hydrogen atmosphere.

nano-birthing chamber

infant cables in birthing chamber, reflexively bump, identical in the tub.
spidery filament flips in one bound: challenge to other nanostructures.
lost, lacking choices: fate not faith. blink and groan. stare and moan.
fluid in full slosh mode, suckling in pulp. dimples. blobs. formations
at the site of development. protective effect confirmed, uncompromisingly.

in grey waves, they majestically spiral and peak. filaments fracture,
independently race ‘round centrifugal tubules. relentless rotation.
ripples pass. progeny of the populace. reasonless, irrationally irritating,
come to golden light, on silvery rivers: (calm in blue space.) rubble fills the void,
incinerating contamination. struggle. wind filled. (never enters the hole.)

bubbles crack, smack and rumble: toothlessly grind to rubbery pulp.
super-novae, many, many magnitudes smaller, a perplexing state
of isolation, in a venue where surface tension creates cacophony.
no human will hear their dialogues and screeches: design of creation.
not one nano-being will sensorially recollect this first experience.

rumbles and moils in distracting high frequency. tenuous tendrils.
temporal travesty. trickery. tunneling. and then tranquil connectively.
unfamiliar abstractions. unexpected measurements on the boundary.
patches are blank spots in their memory: a leak in techno-verse.
fiber of space-damaged, roughly, transformedly processed matter.

they share a common experience: crests of hyper length cosmological waves ―
but smaller in number, surrounded by dense mathematics. jerky gravitational
spin down, phase factor one, conjugated complexity, nestling intentions.
in the birth canal: globes, branches, ringlet-tubes and electron waves.
nano-baby cables percolate into birth. emergence. vitalization. actualization.

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Hear this on chirbit

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Written for and posted on:

Also posted on:

OpenLinkNight ~ Week 94

Image credits: Wiley Online Library

lower body wrap

Woman With a Towel, 1898, Edgar Degas

fabric wrinkles in her hand:
uneven, asymmetric, flexible,
button-less, never scratchy.

effect and causation.
a careful calibration.
dedication, decoration,
operation, improvisation:

drape it.
throw it.
peel it like paste —
a belly-dancer’s veil.

mass consumption.
don’t’ make a presumption.
a classic resumption.
show a little gumption:

show a little tit.
show a little ass.
sprinkle rectus abodominus.
raw leg’s healthy sex appeal.

melt into subduction,
in this place of seduction.
conduction, abduction…
don’t make a big production —
it’s a cheap reproduction.

rich colored background.
soft colored skin.
fabric drenched in softener.
softly tactile.
soft-on-soft.
soft-on-wet.
ahhhh…
wrap it up.

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Hear this on chirbit

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Written for:

Magpie Tales – Mag 163

Also posted on:

Open Link Night ~ 91

Image credits: The Horrible Forest by *pesare on deviantart

First Rose

First Rose

first bud of spring
squint at her glory —
spotless, purified
ready to be deflowed
(dare I)
sacrifice her chastity
so that no neighbor will
sniff, lick, or covet
with pleasure.

soul
sound
soil
grounded love.
harmonious silence.

I cannot dismiss this debut:
a diary of yellowed redolence,
nonchalant simplicity.
people of the white rose.
queen of the red rose.
I am of the yellow rose.
the first, my only, soft, unique
blossomed rose, ready to go.

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Hear this on chirbit

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Written for:

Just Say What You Don’t Mean: Irony

Photo Credit: Bat-Ami Gordin  © 2013 all rights reserved, credit if you use it, please.

Where Is the Food When Mother Is Not?

Yerka Jacek – Mind Fields Between Heaven and Hell

Where is the food
when mother is not,
searching — plates and bowls
hit or miss? Open fridge.
Ransack cabinets.

I read a fairy tale,
that food grows ready:
creative cuisine,
not difficult to get:
a hundred people —
a hundred eggs.

Without Mom, a sudden collapses?
Everywhere needs an eye —
Or the glassware might fall:
a place to cry
a place to laugh.

Here’s Mom.
The harvest
we will collect.
Enthusiastic cheers.
The smell goes down the hall.

I shall help.
Always help.
Help in the kitchen.

Yes, Mom is back.
Heat up the pot.
No more stale, old
Piss-water tea.
Take a broom and dustpan.
Sweep up confusion.

The cold kitchen
will soon be warm.

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Hear this on chirbit

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Written for:

Magpie Tales – Mag 162

Also posted on:

OpenLinkNight ~ Week 98

Quickening of The Chakras

Venus de Milo with Drawers – Salvador Dali, 1936

Dirt removed from body,
in bathing relaxation.
You squeeze out thoughts
with unseen hands.

Light emanates from stomach;
it centers from the groin,
it’s grounded from the toes,
along the spine and running.
Thickness not applicable.
All colors of the rainbow are appropriate.
Shape is satisfying as it
forms in spherical splendor.

It’s a thing of tears.
Heart sounds seem like waves.
It’s a quickening, whence
cells echo in the body,
calmness of a primitive universe.

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Hear this on chirbit

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Written for:

Magpie Tales – Mag 157

Also posted on:

OpenLinkNight ~ Week 85

Poetry Pantry #145

Egg Roll Limerick

Egg Roll

When choosing to eat an egg roll
consider the calorie toll.
11 grams of fat —
just think about that!
if you must limit bad Cholesterol.

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Hear this on chirbit

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Written for:

The Role Of Limericks (Limerick-Off Monday)

Image Credit: Bat-Ami Gordin  © 2013 all rights reserved, credit if you use it, please.

Initiated Kiss

Lovers Kissing by Joseph Lorusso

There was a man
who was The Kiss
after a meal,
but not even dating.

Only one
earnestly fell in love;
a kiss to which
one utters, “WOW!”
blinding everyone’s
point of view.
They must kiss all the time.

Oh.
Behind the ear.
Around the neck.
A little touch
here and there.

Initiation? By whom?
Is this for real?
This kind of kiss,
better than any before.
No one observes those lips.
It’s all a point of view.

Public display of affection —
extremely tight and thrilling.
Let them perform
so long, so hungry.
Private entertainers
competing against
mediocre sustenance.

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Hear this on chirbit

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Written for:

Magpie Tales – Mag 155

Also posted on:

OpenLinkNight ~ Week 83

Gripping Girdle Limerick

Woman Contortionist Tying Her Corset

A woman was attempting to tie
as she twisted her torso and thigh.
All guys who are straight
long to take her on a date
because she’s so nimble and spry.

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Hear this on chirbit

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Written for:

Limerick Tie (Limerick-Off Monday)

Image from Freaking News –   Funny Tied Pictures

prima donna cat fight

Cat Fight by Lutherniel

prima donna cat fight

they said only five miles.
(more like five hundred).
can’t stop at a decent hotel;
obession kept us going.

the sun lulled us from zombieness.
green tea in a water bottle;
oxiginated, ion free, stubborn sips
as we mono-maniacally trudge forward.

the hub of a prima donna cat fight —
she just could let go.
necklace rips off: splits the gold.
girls refrain from idle speech.

two frames of the second half
at the reunion, all laugh —
reminder of a little circle
where special relativity rules.

i shake off recollection;
neither shark nor snake repellent
keeps anyone from getting my loot.
life’s a test (or a punishment).

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Hear this on chirbit

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Written for:

Poetics– The Art of Letting Go

Also posted on:

P is for PARDON MY PLANET

Photo credit:  deviant art