In the beginning was the word
Was it heard?
Was it absurd?
Did it take flight like a bird?
Or just drop
Like a turd?
Posts
Kiss Off
The voice
A lilt
The head
A tilt
Left me unprepared for the oncoming jilt
It was more like a jolt
My love screeched to a halt
And thus I began
To wilt
Ode to “10-4”
I beg my brain “Don’t atrophy!”
Because my job is numbing me
Is dumbing me
Oh! What will become of me?
Here I sit with microphone
On & on the questions drone
And to hear the ringing phone
Reminds me why I moan & groan!
“10-4” I say
Has taken me away
Where I don’t wanna be
In the land of stupidity
Counting my blessings
Employment is good
But I’m quite sure
I’m less than I could… BE!
No Bones About It
Is my masseuse a misogynist?
The way he makes me turn & twist
When I insist
I’m a feminist
He bends his wrist
To make a fist
To begin procedures on his list
And all this deep tissue stuff
Is that his deep ISSUE stuff?
Is he out of line
While adjusting my spine?
Does he prey
On my vertebrae?
I know his profession is my anatomy
But does that give him permission to walk all over me?
Sweet Dreams Can Suck
I dreamed about my lover
And woke up with a hickey
I didn’t know I had to wear
Pajamas with a dickie!
Escape
PEA left the pod or face an identity crisis, not wanting to remain the other one of two. Rolling off to explore the plate, visiting lumpy gravy over half-baked potato & gristle cut from the bone abandoned to die alone. PEA left the pod to face her own wrinkled self, not wanting to remain the other one of two. Rolling off the plate visiting a pat of butter, also on a journey, away from the stick to which she had been stuck. Now PEA & PAT decided to team up & wander through dinner hour together in hopes of finding… food for thought?
Who Me?!
Dare I say with certainty
I offer no apology
You may call it eccentricity
As I honor my authenticity
My life in this society
Is faced with ambiguity
Which at times turns to animosity
As I honor my authenticity
Walking toward my destiny
Won’t take MYSELF out of me
So I espouse this decree
As I honor my authenticity
To set me free
Eventually
Dueling Hemispheres
Right brain frolics with thoughts to rhyme
Left brain scolds her “Don’t waste time!”
Right brain hums “Tra la la”
Left brain prattles historical minutia
Right brain lost in sensual pleasures
Left brain lectures weights & measures
Right brain marvels at igneous rock
Left brain sets the digital clock
Right brain fills the water pipe
Left brain uses antiseptic wipe
Back & forth… Forth & back
Is my gray matter under attack?
From inside out… From outside in
To be continued…
Which side will WIN?
I Am a Master of Chipping Plaster
Wabi-Sabi is not a hobby
But a philosophy
Embracing asymmetry
Rejecting status quo vernacular
Coarse is fine
Vinegar is wine
Cracks & crevices rank divine
Authenticity eludes duplicity
Musty is a must
Rusty garners lust
I glean no gumption
Toward conspicuous consumption
And all is right in the world
Remains with what is left
Less is more becomes my credo
As I become a “Wabi-Bito”
(undenied…bonified!)
For the Record
The summer of 1952 had more 90-degree days than any other summer in Rochester before or after!
Pregnant Mom weighs in at 105lbs that August… 9lbs 2.5 oz of that is ME!