Posted in Poetry

Sharp Objects

jitter shake and tremble, cold cold coffee
slurp
don’t slurp
is it cold or shock
(it’s both)
the copper stars break
jump and jerk in the fan reflection
prince is still on my desk waiting to be ripped he rips
it like none other
only raul gets that too bad he o.d.’d on the cuban
coffee last year back before he almost burned
his place down with that dog with the broken ear too
bad about the coffee i could use some jitter shake and tremble
so i could bludgeon the fears of never seeing god in action
only the neglect that causes the jitter shake and tremble
the shock part coffee brake emergency brake fire break
if you drop it does it break like my
yellow coffee cup on the garage floor
i am too dangerous to be given sharp objects
like anger and despair black and white on the floor of the italian deli
with a splash of red or maybe blue
as we all keep gazing out over the sod and don’t give in to
soccer the devo game according to coach k let’s just load up the bases
raw and pure like that canker sore on my right cheek raw
pure and painful do we stop feeling if we don’t have pain?

 

© Jilly’s  All Rights Reserved

Posted in 28 Days of Unreason, Poetry

and that’s another thing

i hate how that picture on the bedroom wall
the one of the flower
will forever be a poodle mug-shot
(face right)
and our wind chime on the back porch,
tuned to something like Amazing Grace,
always plays Strawberry Letter 23
because you see and hear the world
in your own way
like a child without filters

i think i’ll have peach pie
because it’s my favorite
and you indulge me

indulge me
with that spot on your face
that you haven’t shaved
because i prefer the feral
you and have to kiss
kiss, kiss it
even though i haven’t
a cat’s tongue

and that’s another thing…

© Jilly’s All Rights Reserved

for Day 19 of 28 Days of Unreason

“I’m quite tired of beating myself up to write.  I think I’ll start letting the words slip out like a tired child. “Can I have a piece of pie” he asks, and then he’s asleep back on the cusp of the moon.” ~ Jim Harrison from Songs of Unreason

 

Posted in 28 Days of Unreason, Poetry

Poet Gig

Blab, blab, blab
because right about now
I’m wondering why the hell
this quote just doesn’t
do a thing for me
I mean
I’ve spent this whole month
being a shyster
posing as a poet
but it’s just that
smoke and mirrors crap
Merde
which is my favorite French word
because it sounds so much
nicer than
shit
which I have
always been loath
to say
mostly because
I don’t like how it sounds

So
this poetry gig
is just
Merde
it makes my head
hurt
it makes me
pace around
and whine
with a kind of
restless sigh
because the walls
are closing in

And what the hell does
it really mean
to be a ‘Poet’?
They all look
at you like
you are a freak
or alien.
Even the rest of
the English teachers
say things like
‘bless your heart’
and
‘of course you wrote
a poem about that’
even though they
teach cummings
and of course
Shakespeare
because it’s in
the curriculum
but when that
colleague’s
husband died
of brain cancer
and they came to you to
write a poem
to be presented to her
even though you
never knew him
barely know her
and you spent
three lunch periods
standing at the window
that overlooks the
school’s baseball field
(which makes it my perfect
classroom)
crying because
the poem
cost you something to
write
but you kept your
door locked
so no one would
know you cried

Then it’s okay
to be a poet,
when they want
someone to bleed,
but still
it’s all
just
Merde
(I like that word —
would like it a lot more
if I could afford French
wine, like Harrison
drank, but, hey,
I’m a school teacher
and the pay…well, you
know)

So, does that cover it?

© Jilly  All Rights Reserved

For Day 16 of 28 Days of Unreason

“You can’t write the clear biography
of the aches and pains inside your skull”
~ Harrison from Skull / Songs of Unreason