High School Poetry: Part Trois

Dance of the Memory Kittens

her pink nose twitches.

the scent of your sweet cologne

permeates her nostrils.

the minuscule rosebud points to heaven

sniffing around in the dark for you.

fluffy white puff balls

bat the black yarn back and forth

pounding the inside of my skull,

a taunting metronome

pulsing your name:

a bitter waltz.

one, two, three

one, two, three

Dance of the memory

kittens

cloaked in the black silky strands

that my fingers once caressed.

the pads of their feet,

soft,

freckled,

your skin.

c'est tout.

I applaud

but the kittens will give no encore,

their mouths pursed in the same way

your tender lips once were when your face

fa d  e   d     a     w      a       y

into the dark recesses of my mind.

my fingers reach out

slowly, gently, so as not to alarm,

not to disturb their steady purring,

the droning stream of prickly memories.

Just one touch will surely

smooth their coarse manes.

But those fickle felines

with their fickle hearts

elude my grasp which proves too harsh.

High School Poetry: Part Deux

You Are Now Entering the Supermarket Zone


It is freezing in here!
It's
summer and I'm wearing two
sweatshirts
inside this ice box that is
literally hell
frozen over.

I'm nowhere near the frozen food section.

The incessant ding of this
cash register that
never fails to
shut down
in the middle of a
HUGE purchase
is driving me
up the Metfood wall.

It's 3:00. I close at nine.

Today, a blue haired lady
turned the same shade while
yelling at me for ringing up
cucumbers instead of zucchini.
I'd tell ya where you can put your
green vegetable, lady, if only I could
while keeping this friendly smile
plastered on my face.
See?  Have a nice day!

$5.50 an hour for this? Might as well get nothing.

I'm squinting.
But no sunlight can penetrate this cave
filled to the brim with packaged,
processed, why-don't-they-just-chew-it-for-you-too
quotation-mark-food-quotation-mark.
Oh, wait.
It's just the fluorescent lighting
reflecting off the shiny surface
of my boss's bald head.
The same boss who waves me
out into the pouring rain
to retrieve shopping carts
at 8:00 on Sunday night.

No one is going to need one.

There's a line
out the door
to jump into my spot.
Why would anyone subject
herself to this?
I didn't even get paid
for my training.
You know what,
that's it.
I'm throwing in the towel,
hanging up my apron,
grease stains and all
for the very last time.
Screw you, baldy!
I'm going to work at
Pizza Heaven.

High School Poetry: Part Une

Whateverosis


Unzip the zipper of your sternum
and step outside.
Examine your soul,
black with the smoke
and cheap beer you feed it;
An emaciated child
from Ethiopia
starving
for your repentance
for absolution
for His big O.K.

His ribs stick out
stretching the skin
over his gaunt torso,
the chaste bones itching to
perforate their leathery package
of sin wrap and false foil.
The outline of his teeth indent
his sunken cheeks;
He's a shadow of who he used to be,
a mere sketch
of who he was to become.

Now unbutton the skull.
Grab hold of your potential,
or what's left of that
bruised, rotten
apple
once a shiny crimson,
alive.
Teachers, friends, even I
glanced up at the healthy
tree of that mind,
saw its shiny promise,
wanted to climb up, snatch it
taste it, greedy for a purpose
pure and uncorrupted.

What has caused
this plague of your body,
diseased from the inside,
seeping corrupted pus
through your orifices
to form invisible boils
on your skin?
What has caused this
acute maturation of
apathy?

This cancer
infects more young people than HIV,
causes dazed, half-opened eyes,
slouching,
a shuffling, sauntering step
and a lethargic demeanor
which saturates the air;
You're a human garbage dump
and I can smell you from here.

Edward Estlin Cummings was Beautiful.

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

——————————————————— i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)                                                                      -e.e. cummings

Oh! The Places You'll Go!

Never give up.  Never lose hope.  Be thankful and persevere.  Be positive at all times.  Find the good in all things.  Look up.  Everything will be alright.


Oh! The Places You’ll Go!
by the incomparable Dr. Seuss
Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You’re off to Great Places!
You’re off and away!

You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself any direction you choose.
You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the guy who’ll decide where to go.

You’ll look up and down streets. Look’em over with care. About some you will say, “I don’t choose to go there.” With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet, you’re too smart to go down a not-so-good street.

And you may not find any you’ll want to go down. In that case, of course, you’ll head straight out of town. It’s opener there in the wide open air.

Out there things can happen and frequently do to people as brainy and footsy as you.

And when things start to happen, don’t worry. Don’t stew. Just go right along. You’ll start happening too.

Oh! The Places You’ll Go!

You’ll be on your way up!
You’ll be seeing great sights!
You’ll join the high fliers who soar to high heights.

You won’t lag behind, because you’ll have the speed. You’ll pass the whole gang and you’ll soon take the lead. Wherever you fly, you’ll be best of the best. Wherever you go, you will top all the rest.

Except when you don’t.
Because, sometimes, you won’t.

I’m sorry to say so but, sadly, it’s true that Bang-ups and Hang-ups can happen to you.

You can get all hung up in a prickle-ly perch. And your gang will fly on. You’ll be left in a Lurch.

You’ll come down from the Lurch with an unpleasant bump. And the chances are, then, that you’ll be in a Slump.

And when you’re in a Slump, you’re not in for much fun. Un-slumping yourself is not easily done.

You will come to a place where the streets are not marked. Some windows are lighted. But mostly they’re darked. A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin! Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in? How much can you lose? How much can you win?

And if you go in, should you turn left or right…or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite? Or go around back and sneak in from behind? Simple it’s not, I’m afraid you will find, for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.

You can get so confused that you’ll start in to race down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space, headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.

The Waiting Place…for people just waiting.

Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come, or a plane to go or the mail to come, or the rain to go or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow or waiting around for a Yes or No or waiting for their hair to grow. Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite or waiting around for Friday night or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake or a pot to boil, or a Better Break or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants or a wig with curls, or Another Chance. Everyone is just waiting.

No! That’s not for you!
Somehow you’ll escape all that waiting and staying. You’ll find the bright places where Boom Bands are playing. With banner flip-flapping, once more you’ll ride high! Ready for anything under the sky. Ready because you’re that kind of a guy!

Oh, the places you’ll go! There is fun to be done! There are points to be scored. There are games to be won. And the magical things you can do with that ball will make you the winning-est winner of all. Fame! You’ll be famous as famous can be, with the whole wide world watching you win on TV.

Except when they don’t. Because, sometimes, they won’t.

I’m afraid that some times you’ll play lonely games too. Games you can’t win ‘cause you’ll play against you.

All Alone!
Whether you like it or not, Alone will be something you’ll be quite a lot.

And when you’re alone, there’s a very good chance you’ll meet things that scare you right out of your pants. There are some, down the road between hither and yon, that can scare you so much you won’t want to go on.

But on you will go though the weather be foul. On you will go though your enemies prowl. On you will go though the Hakken-Kraks howl. Onward up many a frightening creek, though your arms may get sore and your sneakers may leak. On and on you will hike. And I know you’ll hike far and face up to your problems whatever they are.

You’ll get mixed up, of course, as you already know. You’ll get mixed up with many strange birds as you go. So be sure when you step. Step with care and great tact and remember that Life’s a Great Balancing Act. Just never forget to be dexterous and deft. And never mix up your right foot with your left.

And will you succeed?
Yes! You will, indeed!
(98 and ¾ percent guaranteed.)

Kid, you’ll move mountains!
So…be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray or Mordecai Ale Van Allen O’Shea, you’re off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So…get on your way!

Mortality

It means that you can never give up—

People are counting on you

People love you and need yours in return.

It means that you must never give up—

No matter how much it hurts

Or how hard it gets.

It means that you’ve got to live your life

To its absolute limit,

Its fullest capacity,

Until you think you might pop,

Bursting with alive like a hot air balloon.

You’ve got to live it for Kaitlin

And Tim Sharkey

And Jamie and Paige and Mike

Because they won’t get another chance.

It means you must never let your light flicker

Or dim—never let it extinguish.

You must always be your most

Brilliant, vibrant, wonderful, terrific

Terrible, awesome, unexplainable

Self!

Because you’re alive!

Because you’ve got shoes on your feet

And feet in your shoes!

Breath in your lungs!

Teeth in your mouth! A brain in your head!

Lovely eyes to take in

the lovely world all around you

and lips to be thankful

for every last
speck
of
dust.

What is this life we’re given?

We’re not meant to know—

The answers are not here,

Not in any concrete way.

But it means you must hold on with every last

Ounce of strength you can muster

To this
this life, this breath, this moment

Because you don’t know when it’ll suddenly—

Terrifyingly— much too soon— irrevocably— be

gone.

Rest in peace, Kaitlin Kenneally.  The world is much dimmer without your light shining brightly.

Snippet

God is in the trees.
He's in the wind that kisses the leaves,
in the breasts of birds that fly on wounded wings.

As You Like It

I am the girl in the yellow cardigan.
I am the one who got away.
I fall in love with one actor per play,
and a few humans per ride on the subway,
so don't think you're special.

I am the girl who notices a missing line.
Mere mortal, fool, I forgive you, but
every line is essential,
even the seemingly throw-away ones:
The words or lines He added
just to complete His obsessive compulsion
with language and math, rhythm and rhyme.
Was it painstakingly purposeful
or did perfection come naturally?

I don't know anything about actors.
I never studied them in the wild.
My thoughts are loud and crowded,
tucked away so neatly that you'll never find me,
though I imagine you'll look.
I should not have come alone.

I am the girl who takes
one prolonged gaze out into the Audience Sea,
one moment of smiling eye-lock,
the simple poetry of lips forming measured words,
and files them in my card catalog heart
marked under "A"
for "actor" or "apple," "Avon" or "ache."