23 Emotions: Anecdoche

seven minutes approaches,

but for now,

cacophony.

we did this,

oh yeah, me too

except.

that sounds like,

last summer,

magical.

he was there,

i wasn't,

occasionally.

and then layers and words all mashed up and sandwiched together a jumble like unsolved puzzles just tipped out of the box hands grabbing at the pieces like tongues tasting the words.

(minute seven)

silence.

anecdoche

n. a conversation in which everyone is talking but nobody is listening, simply overlaying disconnected words like a game of Scrabble, with each player borrowing bits of other anecdotes as a way to increase their own score, until we all run out of things to say.

23 Emotions: Jouska

Jangling 'round my head, 

a jouska, following the usual thread.

'round and around in circles I go.

A one-sided conversation, I know, I know!

It can't be helped, this dialogue of one.

I wish, at least, that it were fun.

The control is all mine, in this mono-dialogue.

Ha! ...and of course it has ended up on my blog.

I've reduced you, first, to words in my head.

Oh, I wish that it were somewhere else, instead.

Reduction continues, it plays along.

You've become a binary code, it seems just plain wrong.

Once you were a man, flesh, blood and bone,

but now you're nothing (just bits of code).

and I am alone.

Alone.

one

jouska n. a hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head--a crisp analysis, a cathartic dialogue, a devastating comeback--which serves as a kind of psychological batting cage where you can connect more deeply with people than in the small ball of everyday life, which is a frustratingly cautious game of change-up pitches, sacrifice bunts, and intentional walks.

23 Emotions: Chrysalism

In that moment,
chrysalism shattered.

Mirroring nature,
ourselves so, too.

Transitions require a break,
within,
and without.

Fluid movement, of moment.
Soft welcome fracture.

It started raining inside.
Fat drops falling from the ceiling.
(above us)

Water, 
washing away the dust from the broken wall.

We move to the other side.

Beyond the rubble.

A other space.
One in which to examine what built it.

The promise of water.

The promise of dust.

(the process of both)

You k(no)w
I know.

Promises require stones.
The "after-rain" requires stones.






Chrysalism n. the amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm, listening to waves of rain pattering against the roof like an argument upstairs, whose muffled words are unintelligible but whose crackling release of built-up tension you understand perfectly.

Little Rat

Oh little rat,
so furry and fat,
why are you in my walls?

You skritch-scratch at night.
I hold my bed covers, so tight...
thief of my land of Nod.

Oh little rat,
so furry and fat,
THIS is your chance to leave!

I think you'd much rather,
not be a little rat cadaver,
but spend the night snacking on cheese.

Oh little rat,
so furry and fat,
it really is time to go!

The cat's on his way,
it's not a game you should play,
and tragedy lies at the end.

Oh little rat,
so furry and fat,
the choice is now up to you...

Get caught in a trap,
run away from the cat,
but I'd choose the hole in the wall!

and then...gone...it was much ado...

"Your silence most offends me,"
Will and his way with words,
words describing so accurately their lack.

Someday you will not stop talking,
words tumble out of your mouth,
running away, carrying me on a stream of your imagination.

That will be the "you" you,
not this false shell of you,
and you and I will swim in our imagination.

Swept away in the conversation,
that will last until you are no longer "you",
neither am I, "I".

I dive into the vast ocean,
not this dual river,
in conversation with the fishes.

Into the silence,
underwater you will not hear me say,
"Your silence most offends me..."



(Quote curtesy of Mr. Will Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing)

Pinstripe Ink

Penned in pinstripe,
a reprobate meets a rogue.
Crossed quill and sword,
one-two makes ten.



Inky black vignettes...

(now)

(here)

(gone)



With sleight of hand 
and slightly aware,
a question hangs...

that has hung,

men.



How could I do to you,
what has undone me?


~ R. Poet

Jabberwocky

In honor of all nonsensical poems out there...have a Monday that embraces the lighter side of life. 

 ~ R. Poet

Jabberwocky

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
     Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves
     And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

      The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

      The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand;

      Long time the manxome foe he sought—

So rested he by the Tumtum tree

      And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,

      The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,

Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,

      And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through

      The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

He left it dead, and with its head

      He went galumphing back.

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

      Come to my arms, my beamish boy!

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”

      He chortled in his joy.

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogoves,

      And the mome raths outgrabe. 

~ Lewis Carroll

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Ennobled Dirt Blanket

dirrrrrt blanket...
O' dirt blanket.

your filthy -ness?
was our warmth
on a night that needed none.

...an island in a grassy sea of magic.

O' dirt blanket
a many stanza-ed verse was written in your honor
alas the memory of which
melted like the velvet night
into dusty dawn.

O' dirt blanket,
where are you now?


~ R. Poet