why old men drink gin

life lesson number one:
decisions
determine
the pattern
of bruises

ok, this fucked me up enough to go to bed and hope for any other dream.

this makes me wanna puke, and that is praise to the poet that can express and repulsion   unspoken
compulsion to revenge
unexplained connection

physically or metaphorically...or just me.....oops

david

calves in the field

long days

long grass

no rules
no wolves
no tyranny
no tears

time and pressure and age and nerves

the tips of holes
on bands and belts
fray and shred
at the end of
usefulness

why old men drink gin

life lesson number two:
when all else fails
fake it

Silent Lotus,

Thanks.  It looked like a good place to stretch out. 

Tiko

David,

Cringing is a valid response.

Thanks,

Tiko

why old men drink gin

life lesson number three:
lube on the table
does not mean
you can put it
there

curbside cupcakes
  (urban revival)

a school of leaves
two days removed
from branches
jiggle and scratch
along the asphalt
walk

but there isn't
tree for
miles

my lesson:

why Gin is always available:
because she never fakes it


c

why old men drink gin

life lesson number four:
the color of peace
is lily green

feathers have no
feeling until
detached

cranberry is best
used as a wall
cover

love is retarded
so we spit
when sleep  

Hmmm...well I will never ask an old man why he drinks gin again.
All the information in life is right here.

now, I think I'll go to bed.

sweet dreams,
cherylanne

life is full of alternatives

the problem is
i don't like
carrots

they are supposed
to be the wonder
food
cures all
helps all
see all

the color is
alluring like
candy corn
and the shape
is made for
boys at play
"DUCK"

but they
taste like
sweet potatoes
with a hint of
asparagus
and saltines

am i destined
to be marginal?
lackluster?
other than
wonderful
because i can't
absorb the
benefits of
carrots?

nah, i'll be
alright

i can drink
vodka

http://www.carrotmuseum.co.uk/history.html

The origin of the cultivated carrot is clearly acknowledged to be purple in colour

and in the Afghanistan region mainly because it was known to exist there

well before reliable literature references or paintings gave evidence of Western carotene carrots.

It is thought to have been in existence a couple of thousand years bc. (Brothwell)

bullets without merit

the other
side of
envy
fades

from
meadow
green
to deep
ocean
black

where
day
breaks

without
sweat on  
the pillows

or
on the curve
of top lips

and light
seeps  
through
pinholes

pushed
through
stretched
skin

why old men drink gin:
lessons from the sober

undone is a technical
term in america
akin to frazzled
tied in knots
out-of-bandwidth

undone doesn't refer to
bras hanging from
pale freckled shoulders
shoelaces dragging on
the men's restroom floor
Pop's pants after the
Thanksgiving meal

it's when a man
understands
his useless
and
the poet
misplaces
his words

good thing
we were
almost
absolutely
neither

dear Tiko

not sure if it is imperative for you in the last stanza to have the tense   i'm

for my ear  we were  sounds a bit better


good thing
we were
almost
absolutely
neither


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


silent lotus

Good call.

Thanks,

tiko

Christmas birthdays and anniversaries


opening
gifts

customary
cliche

except
when
they
smile

as
you
remove
the
wrapper

am i capable
of finding
my center?

swerving is
so much
fun

it’s difficult some days
to find different ways
to describe leaves
and trees, water, love,
sex, or loss

sometimes, a tree
is just still and green
down yonder way
unnoticed
surrounded by wild grass
unmarked by lovers

and water is at times
unimpressive
stagnant
in the holes lining
overused streets
or in half empty glasses
with lipstick or
chicken nugget residue
smudged on its
side

love
sex
are interchangeable
trifles
discussed over martinis
and whiskey sours
differentiated
only by the tellers voice --
never satisfying
almost measuring up

loss is loss
the same mark
across a different
sky


----Silent Lotus.  thanks for the earlier read.  decide to move this.

-tiko

Nice, Tiko. The chicken nugget my favorite spot, but all good. Tom

Tom,

thanks for the read and the comments. 

-tiko

she gives me pears on
our anniversary

says she loves me so

i am shaped like a pear

assume she loves them
too

enjoyed, Stella. 
tiko


merci, tiko.
Stella

the sky
has been
trampled

the sky
has been
trampled

hide the flowers
in hand dug
holes

whistle
whistle

all who can,
whistle
 
call the ducks
to arms

come
quickly

come
now

we will
shelter
under the
lilies

a bite
a slight bite
on the inside
of your elbow

a scratch on the
outside of your
thigh

a stretch
a yawning stretch
in your hips


knees back
                 back
                      further

no we can
dance

Tiko, I kept reading "now we can" for "no we can". The correct reading sends my curiosity all over the place. Tom

LOL, good catch and thanks.  i think i'm going to post this one.  i did it while cooking dinner.

thanks again.

tiko

did WHAT while cooking dinner?

whatever you liiiiiike.... ;)

crooked ties.
blackened eyes.
rosie cheeks.
mascara streaks.
missing shoes.
horrible news.

the bride was shagging the best man.

no first dance.
no last chance.
no champagne toast.
no groom to roast.
no thrown bouquet.
no bride to lay.

we still must pay the band.

tiko, you go, guy.  you actually pulled off all that rhyming. great job, and very funny.

cheryl

a guy wearing
a tie said  my
poetry was shit

a guy
wearing
a tie
said
my poetry
was shit

a guy
wear
ing a
tie sa
id my
poetr
y wa
s shit

i need
to find
my tie

poetry
is best
written
in the w
inter wh
en the v
iews are
not obs
cured by
frisbies a
nd spani
sh moss
when the
drinks ar
e stiff th
e fire is
warm an
d young
girls ope
n their l
egs like
umbrell
as in th
e shade

*works better as a journalese

stand
tall
my
good
pupil

lean
towards
your
own
determining

trample
the
petals
of
wayward
teachings

carry
the
folded
leaves
         i've
         given
         you
to the
edge

now
eat
them

last letter


don't throw it
away

tuck it in
your favorite
shoes

it'll be there
when
you need it

alien love

i
could
never
tell
the
difference
between
blue
and
purple

are you naked yet?

sometimes it trickles
from a purse
a pocket
a bag of milk and beans
a hole in an old shoe
a book
a song
a parking ticket on a windshield
a tea light
a pink tree
a half eaten bagel
a strand of red hair
a bowling ball
a 2 iron
a wig
a transgender go-go dancer

or a
twitchy eye
friday
at 4am

i LOVE this.

c

Cheryl,

thanks for you comments on 'origins'.  they are the reason i put them in submit.

Silent Lotus,

glad you like it.  it was birthed from alcohol.

thanks,

tiko

she put on her dress
laced her shoes
tossed me her panties
picked up her money
walked out the door

her face was red
hot red
crawfish boil red

i'll assume
she
enjoyed it



_____________________________




remembering how


remove the
shards from
your hands
your neck
your torso
your ears

soothe with
the warmed
wax of
bees

and decanted
wine

feel the
dance
pull

through your
loins
and fingers

the dimples
in your
hind

slide
slide
slide

into the
dance

democracy
is
not
decided
by votes

it's
deciced
by
donation

Since she tossed you her panties, I'd assume she enjoyed herself.  Otherwise, that red face can mean many things.  The panties, nah.  You snagged that one right.

cheryl

why old men drink gin

life lesson number five:

never
poke
your
nose
into
another's
courtyard

forgotten gardeners

“maybe you didn’t know, but a fairy dearly loves her gardener.”
                                                                           -Cheryl Leverette


four seasons
i’ve turned dirt
shooed hornets and field rabbits
tacked notes in the shoulders of trees
hid pomegranates and rum in her not so secret places

four seasons without
honeysuckle
lavender
birds in the fountain
moisture in a breeze

now and then
i imagine a tickle-
     her wing on my neck
     her lips on my chest

now and then
i remember
rain

awww this is so cool.  I actually remember saying that.  lol  thank you.

I like forgotten gardeners a lot!

Rick,

thanks.  i posted it in submit, but moved it to journalese
soon after because i felt indicted by John Y's parting comments,
which lead to a sudden feeling the poem was weak or lacked
risks.

glad you liked it and provided comments.  means a lot. 

tiko

Really enjoying these Tiko!

El Vee,

you make me feel all girly and stuff.

thanks

tiko

she's pregnant


fuck
fuck
fuck

Best use of the word since that scene in Boondock Saints.

i am

the fat
kid with lice
who couldn't
afford a hair cut

the pretty girl
with a birthmark
on entire right side
of her face

the cold water
shower when
sex is not an
option

the shadow
of another
man's hand

the blink of
a star that's
quantifiably
inadequate

this is sad tiko, and I can't imagine you being any of those things.  excellent job writing in a different voice.

i've
fallen
from
my
rabbit
again

falling from a rabbit...hmmm...interesting, tiko.

feel free
not to call

any man
who drinks
crown royal
has a low
net worth

my diatribe
about politics
and the tea party
was surely a bore

and your
fascination
with pinguins
was just
damn freaky

besides
the noises
you made
didn't
match your
eyes

past
gates

thorny
black
trees

rotted
stumps
with
porcelain
bowls

high-notes
of
songs

curves
of
hand-dug
holes
           
   

Silent Lotus,

thanks for looking out.  i did manage to garden up the courage, and the yield was quite rewarding.

http://www.poetrycircle.com/index.php/topic,17488.0.html

as always, thanks!

tiko

dear Tiko

it is a delight to see how well this sailed !

thanks for the link

miles of smiles
silent lotus

my daughter graduated with
honors.  it's just a great fucking
day.

tiko

That is excellent! Congratulations to her for the accomplishment!!

i found
some
words

hiding
in the
plenum

with  
fiber
optic
cables
stolen
cell phones

and the
monitors
reported
missing
five weeks
ago

You did what???

i’m sitting in barnes and noble
trying to read poetry i’ve
not known, eating a cookie
i’ve not tasted, watching this
person i’ve not met,
watch me.

i should shoot him the finger,
but everybody has a gun.

is
sex
deemed
plug
and
play

is
love
an
upgrade
or
virus

can
i
touch
you
without
your
static
bag

i'm
waiting
on
that
light
turn
green


---------------------------------


without impedimenta



there

along
crooked hills

among
weeds

and foraging
animals

where
air is
innocent

and shoes
repel
mud

my conscience
lays

next to my
wife

rearranging the furniture

won't
fix

the crack in the wall

nice

:D, thanks.  

tiko

but
some
says it’s

the stroke
of rum
in your belly

or ants
in the knuckles
of your toes

17 syllables
when 5 will do

in our
haste

we forgot
to water

the
dog

i've not had
any good words
run under my
nose in a few
days

it's summer and
they wished for time
to escape the heat
and be with the
little one's ('to' and
'be' get antsy when
ignored)

for now
i'll go on imaging
the smells of
peanut butter and
lemon grass

i have not written
commitments
in ink, dye,
graphite, or blood

my words
were not laced
with assurances

we have not
knotted our
wrists with
silk

i was always
another’s

stood
in bright pink dresses
and hats of straw

stiff stemmed
flowers

steadied
for the
shears

if broken
can it not be repaired
       sewn with silk or
       twisted in twine

can doused
ashes be
swallowed

will
trampled seeds
grow

for the purpose
of being right

i will withhold
all the rules

the
vine
creeps

up
your
chest

over
your
shoulder

yields
no
fruit

i've not
been
stimulated
and
the tea
has been
burned
with butane
lighters

by the time
you read this
poem

i will have
found the
nib

in the pile
of nubs

but yet
and
and yet
are
not yet
proper

-----------


i've not
found
a substitute
for crying

a crow in iowa
or a mussel farmed
off california's coast

the damsel with late
autumn hair kissing
atop lithuanian hills

the dying grass
beneath the reaching
willow

a spider living under
the window sill

I like this Tiko.  Especially the last stanza.

cheryl

Yes I can relate to this.............Q

crouched
in chimneys

burrowed
under the
swollen
feet of
trees

wrapped
in elephant
ears

dumped near
dirt roads
double bagged
to hold the
stench

pinched in the corner
of a cloud
between index and
thumb




-----------------------




is there
thought

after
a bullet
leaves the
head

can you
hear
the barrel
clap

feel the
trigger
spring back
into place

watch
blood

pool
on fading
lines

-------------------------

it was not imagined
or foretold

and based on
confidential
information

talking to oneself
is a matter of diet
     too many starches

the
chalk
has
moved
up
the
wall

down
the
hands

of
the
little
girl's
statue

patience
died

in
the
bottom
of
that
cup
of
coffee

mercy
swims

in
the
drippings
from
the
last
breakfast
taco

ready
your
account

the
wax
has
cooled

and
is
positioned
to
record

with the hopes
of finding a new
path

he put
shoes
on the
dogs

how
can
we
account
for
blank
spots
on
a map

the
ships
burn
without
consequence


-----

wackdoodlery

the trees were painted
by indians

will is skate the winds
like the albatross


-----------------------------


i am a cheat

you can tell
by the curl
of my fingers

and the space
between my
toes

i should not
be considered
permanent or
longterm

you have nothing
of value

saunters in
wearing
a teal sun dress
hair pulled back
in a yellow
butterfly clip

says
the needed things
to arouse

leaves you holding
your dick

and the bill

~


Promise

saunters in
wearing
a teal sun dress
hair pulled back
in a yellow
butterfly

says
the needed things
to arouse

leaves you holding
your dick

and the bill



©Tiko Lewis

nice pic!

tiko

expensive
men

have

cheap
morals


-----------------



hide in the little twists of hair
locked to the skull

feed on theorem,
gist, opinions, pleas,
pomade


--------------------




mother said
not to do that to boys
it’s not lady like
no one will respect me
and any man who asks for it
doesn't love me anyway

daddy left
on a Thursday

note to my journal


i've abandoned you,
i know

i've been without
words

or better said
the words i've
been with have
been coarse and
gritty behind
the ears
and in the fold
of
the arm

even now, i've
nothing to say

neglect has you
yellow around
the edges

crunchy
at the
tips

i'll
return
soon

with salted
meats

and
rum

we will speak

one
with
another

`

who
decided
it
was
a
good
idea
to
eat
the
ugly
peacock?

do we have a ThanksGiving Front Page Poem ?


i want to vote for this !



`

LOL

tiko

i fell in love with a poem
teased her hair
painted her lips
stoked her leg while watching movies

she treated me well
told me i was a master
knew my way around necks and knees
said she liked to see me work
so i left the lights on

when i took her in public
everyone stared
looked at her from head to toe
examined her toe nail polish
and costume jewelry

turned out she loved attention

haha! good one!

she loved attention as well!

forgive me if i don't shake hands

daily
we pass
each other
in the hallway
on the way to
the restroom

i hear
her heel clicks
on the tile floor

i hear the
door close to
the stall

the snatch
on the paper
roll

the all consuming
flush

i'm still waiting
to hear her
use
the sink

for the good of all
i stopped speaking
in public
and finally clipped
my toe nails

`

forgive me if i don't shake hands

daily
we pass
each other
in the hallway
on the way to
the restroom

i hear
her heel clicks
on the tile floor

i hear the
door close to
the stall

the snatch
on the paper
roll

the all consuming
flush

i'm still waiting
to hear her
use
the sink


Tiko Lewis





dear Tiko

i like the ambiguity of gender here

 the textures of the sounds

 and the title in lowercase

silent lotus

~

i hear the
flame

crack against
the fire line

ash roast
the concrete

a drink
washes away
lingering smoke

eyes closed

i go in
for another
breath




---------------
the extent of enlightenment


dead men don't
require shoes, but

there's something
amiss about
sitting
on a warm
public toilet seat





-----------++++++

box of joe

the rings
died with the sun

the last of the birds
were eaten
two years ago

names of the found
have been scratched
on the wall

the pink dress
were used to
sift water

i've
never
written
poetry
in the
presence
of a
naked
lamb


-----------------------


there's a certain filth
in success
being well made
hand stitched



-----------------------



trash day in tomball, tx


all the ripped out
bleeding hearts
have been collected
and placed on the curb
in blue recycle bins

i'm told
they are dumped
into the abyss
to cushion the
poet's fall

the blood is used
to darken pomegranate
juice

love's
exhausted

we
could
rename
it

but we'd have
to listen to
this shit
all over
again

she said
she wasn't
good at it

had only
done it
twice

once for
some guys
birthday

and because
some other guy
was being
so nice

she needed
a car
payment

today
she got a drink
and reading recommendations


--------------------

tease



morning
is
a
heavy
girl
in
a
girdle




----------------



leather
teeth and
lottery tickets
burn in the kitchen sink


------------------

watering the lawn
by hand


-------------------

circumcision certificate
the ledger of a 3/4s a man


-------------------------------------

morning is a heavy girl in a girdle



i dreamed of pink nipples
with black veils

leather
teeth and
lottery tickets
burning in the kitchen sink

dead men with new shoes
and bayonets

i watered the lawn
by hand



----------------------

cigarette ashes and dried gum
zealous as a mall cop with a metal badge




-------------------------

a breach of peace





why should i to punish you
with a thatch of silk
there’s a railroad truss in the garden
and a pear of anguish on the library shelf

do you wish to renegotiate our terms
redefine our love

there's a greatness to this
a certain futile logic

the point
vs
the edge






teach
me
the
prepared
words







give
me
the
mask






we can
all be
deep
in pools
of our
own
creation



-------------------



fair and balanced

he called me a liar
Your Honor

he had a gun
   i had a gun

it was a fair fight

why is everyone
focused on his
one arm?



-------------------------------




worn thru socks
cracked vessels
books with rotted spines
unpaved roads
knuckles and blood
teeth marks in the door
sap from the younglings
lot where they dump dead dogs
rusted wheels of trains

why
do they need
to see
my papers

is this Arizona


----



summer's end


all that remains
is a pinch of moon
and fortune cookies

the angels fled
with the pillows
and women

the dead will not stop
whistling



-----------------------------




the event horizon

they tell us not to worry
but the air tastes like old ice

--------------------------


regarding
freshness

new
to
the
pile

and
crisp
on
the
palate

aren't
necessarily
the
same







--------------------

`


dear Tiko

nice smoking pen here !

silent lotus



~~~~~~~~~~~~


why
do they need
to see
my papers

is this Arizona


-------------------



fair and balanced

he called me a liar
Your Honor

he had a gun
   i had a gun

it was a fair fight

why is everyone
focused on his
one arm?


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i ain't that girl
i'm the other one





for your consideration


death doesn't
come during
the night

wearing
a backward
habit
swinging a
cane cutter

she is
always
present
like hair
in a mole  



---------------------------



in my pail lay
three shells
a bottle top
and yesterday's
dreams

the wishing well
is 10 miles south
past the blueberry farm
the orange fountain that dried up in '02
the community monkey grass display
and Mr. Wilson's house-
     i married his daughter

he's always
curious about the
pail
     why do you carry
     that damn thing?

i can't tell him his
daughter has seen
too many dreams die



-----------------------

your
kiss
was
a gift
of
dehydrated
cheese


------------------------

the castle doors were barred
but lacked hinges


-------------------------

drip
drip
drip

creme flows
from the flower
pod

drip
drip

love how you
cross your
toes



----------------------

my common-law wife
asked for a divorce
and the dog

i'm to pay half
her car payment
and forfeit half of
12 years from my
pension

-------------------------


cookies and booze



----------------------------


the scratch of the quill


------------------------------


i will fail
                and die in pain


---------------+--------

lanky
like pulled gum

smile
as exciting as
a weather report

hair
like mowed weeds





-----------------





there's a certain filth
in success
being well made
hand stitched



-------------------------




bottled titty milk

airports have lost their
specialness

everyone used to be a movie star
a famous person
anonymously important
unashamed

now it's full of
know-nothings
and almost-normals
chomping bagels
sipping soy chai lattes
trying with little success
to mask their perversions

just now, i see
an armpit licker
at the water fountain

a tall girl that loves
being covered with pocket lent

the handi-shuttle driver likes
the hair around his navel pulled

and the pilot enjoys being choked by
with his necktie     even now
it's a touch too tight

the girl with the nose ring
and the black cortez nikes
revels being rolled
in graham crackers
         at least that's what her shirt says

maybe
tonight's
fortune
cookie
can
answer
why
men
crave
Asian women
flight attendants
and twizzlers




laying in this fields
is not an afterthought

where stray kites
and dandelions
cover the sins
of buried prisoners

the lot was purged
of trees
and stray kites



lying in fields
is no afterthought
from the stray kite
to the dead prisoner
covered by dandelions


-------------------------





bloom


the point
or
the edge

blink
so i may
understand

i do
not wish
you
to die

pleasure
is a personal
choice

you must
not move
    
the hose
is nearly
full

the feathers
will escape
the wax

i do
not wish
you to
die

but you
will                



--------------------------------

different perspectives


i know this place
backwards and
forwards

up and down
i imagine
feels like
Spain



-------------------



the space
between my toes
is the best place
for an ending





----------------------------------






with it
comes
the shining bird
the wobbling table
plastic forks
and recycled flowers



--------------------------





there is a certain power
holding a blade
to your own skin

folding the board
putting the checkers
in your pocket

giving the finger
to the chess players




----------------------

if you're down,
be down.  there's
no need for me to
chase a fuck.  we're
not pigeons.



------------------


he was laid low




we fit
like stacked
cups


small birds
walking in
the middle of
the street


-----------------------------------





i met her
on a friday

she called me
by my full name

laughed
because my
shirt was
tucked in
and my collar
up

she kissed
like they do
the movies

and smelled
of raisins

i liked her

a thread of light
the skirts of spanish
dancers


-----------------


there are no angels
there are those who
douse the flowers
with piss



-------------------------------


i'm
invisible

beard just long
enough to be soft
--------------


you came back
with kolaches


--------------------

roiled


--------------------


stirrings


--------------------

a dog crossing
traffic

--------------------


a cat stuck
in the gutters

--------------------


the porch light that blinks


---------------------

the court convicted
the squirrel for larceny
and smelling of sweat


----------------------


i'd forgotten
how much
being an
adult
sucks
donkey
dick


------------------------

the way she enunciated 'sex'
held her wine glass by the bowl
instead of the stem
That her hair was pulled back
and her spectacles were not prescribed





--------------------

skin like a used condom



-----------------------
don't open your eyes
we're on the ground



----------------------------

folded into the mud


she was
a blue bird

prostrate
on the side
of a stage

dying
before a beck
of eyes



--------------------------

i will erect a flag
of my own nation

i sat for a spell
to argue with gulls
about their selfish
chatter

to be king
you must poke the pillow
demand its secrets
teach it your tongue
tell it something tremendous
in return


-------------------


my belly button
is exposed


99
147
67
192


------------------

clean my wounds


-------------


if clouds had texture
they'd feel like breast



----------------------


i've always fancied
the name emma

the way it pulled
the lips as it passed



---------------------


the twist of hides

a spoon in the dirt



we write of walls
as if they are not
man-made


----------------------



make friendly




---------------------

the screech
of a slaughtered
goat

a rock in the road



----------------------------




it's the flex of the knee
the wrinkle above the lip
flare of a nostril

skin is a collection of creases
stitched together to create
seams and sways at the ankle
and and knuckle of the give-it-to-me
finger

i watched you dance
the jerk of your shoulder
slide of your foot

i watched you speak
i watched you drink
i watched you touch
Frances's hand



-------------------------------------




cast me
in the stream
face down

so i may see
the beauty
in death





------------------------

i've seen my best days

but they belonged to someone else

`












`

all pretty girls
don't have
pretty feet.




---------------------------------------



bundle me
sale me to the most handsome bidder

collect my loose jaw
and spread legs
the hair on my knuckles
and around my holes
my painted lips
folding back
collect them all
tie them in netting
put a bow across my breasts

lie for me
tell him i am a maiden
a pigeon without a box
a whore without stains on my feet
or welts on my hide
a fine haired-fawn

winter is near
my petals are curling
and the berries will fall






------------------------





the dead won't stop whistling

i wanted to plug her

she had a hitch
in her gitti-long




3 blocks away, there's a
barefoot girl singing Dillon,
and shit she made up.
she has a blog with 17
readers—  
          her cat likes cinnamon;  
          she said so in her song

thursday is coming,
but i've already run out of
toilet paper.


it's a dodgy business,
writing without rhyming.



--------------------------



she wanted a man
that smelled like wild thyme



-----------------------

 



wait.

there’s no use tromping shells

all the mice fled
the hinges welded
to forbid their return

i’d like to stay
put baleen back in the frets
we can feather the nest
or cushion it with found socks

let’s re-mend
cut away the frays
no one will know
i’ll hide the stitches
on the bottoms of my feet






 

"Down At Your Buryin'(V8 Ford Blues)

James Cotton -- Down At Your Buryin'.wmv

Nice song. :)

Silent Lotus,

a hell of a song!!!!

tiko

dear Tiko

you might also like "Play With Your Poodle" from his Cd ...James Cotton... Deep in the Blues (Verve 1996)

smiles
silent lotus

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

seeking an appropriate death


swamp tours

make my phone buzz

snap a picture
i'm wapping the winkie
 
eat me
like a cookie with one raisin

kiss my give-it-to-me finger
put a hitch in my gitti-long

---------------------------------

tonight i feel old



an ample crease
sensitive as catfish tentacles


sixty two seconds


without blood
there's no fight




your leaving was a kick to the kidneys

next to the spleen collection

bed of burnt leaves

milk was once
served from
a bag



sometimes
the only
evidence
that death
has visited
is the smell


cigarettes and douche

the skin on my knuckles
is peeling


a woman that doesn't know
shrimp is already plural



it's no longer flower season
Kim is crochet-ting hats on the couch

tow trucks swarm
to scavage the maimed
and dead


hyper-vigilance of a broken soldier

prickly like fish fins


processed
cooked
and cut

Like that wapping/raisin duo, Tiko!

we'll see if they can be pair
nicely, Tom.  they are just
some things that came to
mind while doing stuff other
than writing.

thanks for the look!

tiko

 
good friends
are like diamonds
forged through time
and pressure

when true
can be easy
as a clip-on necktie

when needed
available
as oxygen

sometimes
they come sudden
as a menstrual cycle

others grow
patient as coral

it's a meaningful
nothingness

a stocked
lake

an irrigated
field

a full flask
in winter









 

Some ride on your 'mental cycle', Tiko.

milner

Ha....thanks....damn auto correct on these phones.

I'd like to see this pared to the images after the opening, maybe, Tiko. The move from "diamonds" to "menstrual cycle" is a great one, and the coral formation is a great image here, but the coral formation is too similar to the diamonds' - especially if they're brought closer together. So not sure about all that - talk is cheap! Tom

Tom, thanks for the eyes
and edit.  a friend gave me
the first stanza and asked me
to write something from it
last night (heineken and rum were
involved).  i did like some of the images
that came from it, and you may see them
come up in the future. 

thanks again.

tiko

Tiko........after reading the thread that Tom was creating along with your needle
i felt free enough to weave another thought into the first few lines
just to let you know i have not been sleeping and still enjoying
your journal.

silent lotus
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

good friends
are like the reflections
of diamonds

some come sudden
as a menstrual cycle

others grow
patient as coral

a stocked
lake

an irrigated
field

a full flask
in winter

~

<sub>always
super

ciao</sub>




.

  Went back looking at your first stuff.  Really like this for its conciseness.  Heeading into oldmanhood myself, I got a chuckle out of it and my pattern of bruises.

Rick,

olé

tiko



*****



it's a sunday morning fuck
before the smell
of bacon and coffee

an autographed cast
net stockings with sneakers

chocolate
miles of chocolate

shoe shine stands
in strip club restrooms

a tucked back
sack

a finger
in the ass





-----------------------



muffin maker






the street signs were carved
by hand




shit



doesn't always
run downhill

sometimes it
sits in the grass

waiting for you
to check the mail




----------------









50
101
50
154

poem
commisioned by Kevin




cherish all things that you have
hold them close within your two hands
use each and every moment of the day
to abandon things with sharp edges
to find the stream
dash your face with new waters from old snow
lie still as a cat's whisker
or dance dizzy as a thing new to walking

do not hoard them behind the stone wall
where sun and pollen can not reach
or leave them on the road
like a carcus of forgotten things

hold them close within your two hands
and should your hands fail
set them into baskets of baleen and silk
set them in the bowl of fruit
or in the shoulders of trees
set them outside of winter’s reach

in the spot closest to your wanderings






----------------






fat floats to the top
murphy bed
the bluff

it is no surprise
you'd rescue me

you're a prescription
against the plague
your morning brew
starts the cock's crow
and in particular
i like the smell
of your panties
after two day's
wear

how do you hear
my troubles?
do they tremble
under water
like crocodiles?

blasphemy!

you are a bird
too close to the sun

and i am the ashes
of a scorched seed













--------------------------

i am going
to make
you pause
              .
              .
              .
              .
              .
              .
              .
              .
              .
              .
              .
              .
              .
              .
thank you











throwing cupcakes at windows

everything is fuzzy
when viewed through honey

red as herpes







----------------






hell
is a made up word
like ridankulous
and pescatarian

everything is fuzzy
when viewed through honey

and the fire
could have possibly
been ice

the book says
it's civil
to stand in queues

but it’s uncivil
to sleep on a pillow
without a case



-----------------------



down this street
all the porches are connected




------------------------------------


snacky cakes and sweet treats




it’s the color
of mustard
      —love is

pliable
as chewed gum

not caring
if there is a case
protecting the pillow

or the queue length
when there's a need
for ice cream

it’s a buttered navel
         -half innie
   -half outie
soft all the same





------------


i am yellow

you are green

as i wish to be

tall
on the side the mountain
watching bears

at thaw and the sheep
trek by on their way
to the top




is there a thing as artificial
as the white of birch trees?
will this mark hide adequately
behind my ankle or under my
arms?  i will remember the dead
clovers under your swing,

thanks for looking
in, Rick.  forgive the
mess.

tiko

tonight i sat in the garage
to take my cigar and beverage
wrapped in a parka topped by a bonnet
with a reservoir tip

i saw a large clumsy mosquito
fly into a spider web and appropriately
the spider went to investigate

the spider moved around the beast
taunting and securing just before
delivering the act right bite

lord i'd
love to
feel like
the spider


--------------------------




Roger,

i can post it in submit. :)


Tom,
thanks.  the contrast is
pretty cool, especially in
light of the title.

Lavonne,
you tickle me.

Silent,
always amazing insight.


thanks,

tiko

Tiko,

I love this - it's got such a lovely fresh, spontaneous feel to it.
Are you going to move to submit?

Roger

Like this too, Tiko. The contrast with S1 vivid, true. The "act right bite" - Teairra Mari ? Tom

Love how the title provides a lens through which to view the poem.  A different title would have taken me somewhere else.

dear Tiko
i like the subtlety of the $52 to the number of weeks in a year and the added spare change of the 17
seems to fit well with the long wait for the cycle of the "17-year locusts"
silent lotus




$52.17 to last the week


tonight i sat in the garage
to take my cigar and beverage
wrapped in a parka topped by a bonnet
with a reservoir tip

i saw a large clumsy mosquito
fly into a spider web and appropriately
the spider came to investigate

the spider moved around the beast
taunting and securing just before
delivering the act right bite

lord i'd
love to
feel like
the spider


Tiko Lewis



`