Word Karate

 Poetry is my empty hand

That grasps at the handle.

The world lacks that!

It’s hot, it’s cold

Or slippery like a criminals handshake

This eel annoited with thieves oil

Is in my empty hand

But then my image escapes

From where I was with

Handles afixed, tipped over-side

Maybe left beside

Or in the right place with the wrong meter stick

To beat said criminal with

And so I pull out simile to affix my stick

For the handle, that doesn’t matter,

For living things are real, and only have two eyes

Maybe a hand of my mind, perhaps to grasp

My intention to surprise and alight upon my sight

What likeness I’ve handled to pass onto

To table, or floor, for something amore.

My Poetry, my parabolic spirituality focused...

Grasps, handles, fixes, places, and picks up

My Emptiness fills my hand and replaces

The hot, the sweet and sour, the salty, or bad sting

I fill my cup, with sweeter words to sustain

I browbeat it, but it’s said, shouted, and I saddened I’ve had to say

“I Love you Dad,” three times,

Maybe there wasn’t enough poetry in his world...

He knew how to put into his empty head.

Today

 I sit with myself for awhile

putting handles on what I've placed

With empty hand I can grasp them

And put back memories abandoned on dinner table

Back onto My Library shelves.

There is a place in our hearts and minds and necks

My Dad lives now in memory and our hearts and connections,

And quite a few odds and ends like Knick-Knacks,

Twixt us and them his friends and family as scions of my Dad.

We are Sprouted, Pruned, and Planted Elsewhere now...

We keep going, sadly, we keep going For --Oblivion-- itself won't save us.

I have to go through the door and keep going

Because I can't go underneath, around, or over the difficult wall.

I have to keep going, I've only been shown the door

And it is I that has to walk through it.

Lean into Failure and Tip into Success

there was a story I buried

Because I killed it

But you know feelings....

They have a way of undigging themselves.

 

And now I think I understand psychosomatics -

All, because of one Diana Cho

Best of Friends

 Weasel decided to go on a boating trip.
Tiger signed on, because he loved camping.
This was before cellphones, they just wanted to get away.

So, they found a lake, and traveled a ways,
And came to another lake, and traveled away.
And came to another lake with a small island to camp on.

It was pretty unremarkable, except for the lone outhouse
Smack dab in the middle of a tiny little rocky island they were on.

What was remarkable was the stars came out, and it was still as DEATH!
One could see Andromeda in the reflection of the waters,
And trace Delphinus' path through the heavens as the night wore on.

Histories Quotations Unfinished Finished

 Failing at something isn't the worst thing at least you tried, and think of how many people you made happy.

That bears repeating.. to people who have had one too many chocolate covered Huckleberries.

Practicing and Play

 Weasel and Best Friend Tiger
Were playing in their parents garage
FRISBEE!  It was so much fun...
(I must confess), then it got boring
Because they didn't have anything in common
But Parents, and you know what they're like.

So Weasel reaches up an and pulles down the attic ladder
And turns saying, "Let's play my favorite game!"
GUNS! shouts Tiger. Swell, said Weasel, <snaps his fingers>
but I forgot my Faaaavoorite one over at a friends.

BRB! and runs away in the opposite direction on the block,
around the block while Tiger got his bb-gun
And waited forEEVVER.

Then Tiger growled never trust a weasel with a bb-gun

Attack of the Killer Tomato

A killer tomato attacked me today
It flew at me super mad
When I tried to get her with a vacuum.

And NOW! they're selling them at the store. 

I've seen what they can do first hand.

No I have no tomatos today,
What will happen when I next work
Sweep up some killer beans?

Quality Casper

Many times my imagination has snuck up on me,
Having been haunted for so long
The spirit that had left me, had left me with a hole
And then all these spirits cropped up. 

Like something wicked this way had come.
Now that they had left, yet again, cause you know ghosts
Echoed like ripples and starships burning jet fuel in the rain.
Further and further and further and Quieter and Quietly and away.

And then I stepped on a lego, and OUCH!
I had apparently Lost! all my legos.
But I've only found just a couple so Far,
And I feel so empty inside my head, kind of feels nice.

Play it Again Sam

 the fear of a blank page, began to haunt.
The more I painted and the more I wrote.
Soon it began to haunt me in my dreams.
I must confess, they began to multiply in my life.

With bland slates in my relationship.
And brown cardboard, And stationary,
And a cabinet with nothing but blank paper

Soon the dirty deed was done.
And my fears were foundless! For JOY!
There truly is nothing to fear, BUT fear and indifference.
The cardboard got rolled up for firestarters
The stationary was met with proposals in my mailbox
The slates were covered with bewilderment
And I started writing my life again.