There’s an ad on some Word Press posts saying,
‘Don’t Cover up Your Dark Spots’ and I thought,
Whoa, isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?
Keep our sins and prejudices in the attic,
not hang them out like dirty linen in public,
to hide our inner trolls, I know what the ad means.
I’m not stupid. Just got carried away by the metaphor.
And anyway I almost put up a post yesterday
Revealing a darker, nasty side of me but my therapist
Urged me not to put it up, that there are dark spots,
she said, that are best concealed.
- Tribute to Blenholt by Natalia Zaratieger on Pinterest
You scare me.
What did you do wrong?
Once you were the envy
of bloggers like me
hungry for numbers.
Okay, I was competitive
but every entertainer
wants an audience, Right?
And you were the king of numbers.
Then what happened?
You must have been dismayed
as I was shocked.
What does one do to shed an audience?
Put up politically incorrect posts?
Bite the hands that feed you?
Change lanes too often?
Stay in the same lane too long?
Veer off into obscurity?
There is an art to alienation
& you seem to have found it.
I just hope I don’t stumble across it
You scare me.
*what scares you?
*have you written a short poem about fear you’d like to share here?
*pic by hermes-rivera from Unsplash
I’ve been having parties
in the top right hand corner of my head
where the music throbs incessantly
and civility is dead
have another drink , one says
I don’t mind if I do
and the hunchback pounds on the old piano
till well past half two
a bulky fist hammers the door
Joe sent for me, he yells
& a smokey eyeball peers out
is this heaven or is this hell?
I wouldn’t mind so much
take less of a dim view
if due courtesies were observed
& I were invited too
You are furry like a dog
sit at my feet like a dog
follow me around like a dog
always under my feet
but you don’t woof.
You are my slippers,
a handsome, friendly pair.
My ex never liked you.
She said I’d be wearing
a dressing gown next,
smoking a pipe,
reading cozy murder mysteries
in front of a log fire
but now it’s just you & me.
You often hear the phrase
‘let me slip into something
as a prelude to sex
in steamy novels
but comfortable to me
means something else.
You can’t get into much trouble
wearing yr furry friends.
- pic courtesy of Pinterest
I am about to read a book called ‘The Ninth Crypt’,
A novel I acquired for twenty dollars at the supermarket
But fear I may have made a grave mistake:
Browsing through the blurb I see mention of only
The ninth crypt, all well and good, but what about
The other eight? Perhaps the author is planning prequels
Based on the success of this volume but seeing he is
Now a septuagenarian who came to writing late,
This is most unlikely; perhaps if I bury myself deeply
in the text I shall disinter enough cryptic clues
To keep me happy — but at 800 pages !!! I await
Clarification; in the meantime this tombstone of a novel
Shall stand on my shelf of great unread books.
- have you got any big unread books on your bookshelf?
- photo by Grangeburn on Pinterest
I love my community of bloggers.
I love them
Each and everyone.
There’s Hobbo, Beth,
Eden, the Don,
dear old Ed
& a Coyote name John.
There’s Chel. also,
a big fat can of worms
Little Charmer’s pithy poetry.
with her eyes of blue
her mystical poems
their music too.
Karen, of course,
her Yard Sale of Thoughts
teasing us with ruminations
her imagination has wrought.
Then there’s foresty Ulle
what can we say of him?
A man , sharply observant
with a taste for whim.
Then like a shooting star,
there’s our phantasmagoric friend:
David, jester and artificer
on a trip that will never end.
Not forgetting Jewish Young Professional
and Sarcastic Fringe Head
like my mum used to say,
you wouldn’t for quids be dead.
So to my fellow bloggers,
one and all,
each day spent with you
is a real cyber carnival.
So where are you?
In a galaxy far far away.
No. Where are you really?
Isn’t that where …?
Yes, where Billy Pilgrim went.
That time traveller from ‘Slaughterhouse Five’?
Yes, he went there on his days off.
His days off? From where?
Reality. Reality bites, you know.
But what if you never came back?
Like Hugh Conway in ‘Lost Horizons’? Dorothy in Oz ?
And Peter Pan in Neverland.?
Would it really matter? You’d be where you want to be. Would you even want to go back?
Have you a favourite fantasy place ? Which fantasy world would you live in if you could? What if you couldn’t come back?
My rubbish bin has lost its lid
& asks me what to do..
“How would you feel if your Id,
was exposed to full view?
All that rancour, all that passion,
the outright lies and fibs
You wouldn’t want someone peering in
the trashcan of yr Id.
And what if the rain should tumble down?”
“All right,” I say, “all right, don’t be such a squib,
I’ll phone the local council up.
You shall soon have your lid.”
Everyone should have their lid,
pleasant though firmly secured.
The Id is not a pleasant spot
& should not be long endured.