Tag Archives: Poem of the Day

SPIN CYCLE

spin cycle

Earth’s spit-polished veneer chipped away

            Without skin we cannot live

                        Sea levels rise coastlines retreat

                                    Overflowing glacial teardrops flooding basins

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                                    Spitfire core molten anima meltdown

                        Crust scraped like burnt toast

            Streaming butter sugary cinnamon sprinkles

Teapot spout letting off steam

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Wanton destruction of lonesome planet

            Diminishing water supplies agricultural clashes

                        Recycled excuses uprooted windswept soil

                                    Heat waves droughts tempestuous extremes

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                                    Smoothing wrinkles soothing battle scars

                        Plump wrathful grapes sun-dried sultanas

            Twisted clinging vines seedless clusters

Early hoarfrost siege strip searched

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Climate change shattering glass greenhouses

            Scorned thunderbolt fury lightning rage

                        Flash floods clear as mudslides

                                    Tornados funneling disaster homeless refugees

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                                    Nothing remains behind thin-skinned masque

                        Groovy slits baiting nebulous void

            Bipolar pointless compass run amok

Desperate humanimal instinct leaking out

 

PoeArtry by: Charles Frederickson & Saknarin Chinayote

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Earth Cinema Circle

UPFALL

by dr. charles frederickson, copyright 2008 all rights reserved.

Unlined silver satin cloud sprinkle

            Stained dirty linen wrung out

                        Hand-me-down drizzle grown out of

                                    Drip-dry fabric wrinkles steam ironed

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                                    Varicose veined old leafs overturned

                        Serrate edges rusty switchblade hitters

            Bent twisted tongues stirring honey

Yawning crotchety slingshot stoning outcasts

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Hemmed in by evergreen canopy

            Looking up virgin forest’s skirt

                        Hollow trunk bark stripped clean

                                    Bare limbs spreading viscous rumors

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                                    Appointed hour dusky ghosts assemble

                        Passing through fine mesh colander

            Rarified sieve dripping sorrowful teardrops

Aroused spirits whirlpool vortex aswirl

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Secret graffiti trusts rapaciously exposed

            Stunted growth whippersnappers springing backlash

                        Lean-to saplings wary of trespassers

                                    Lumberjacks milling around chainsaw massacre

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                                    Treetop avian trills never repetitious

                        Stuffing survival down ruby throats

            Instinct cannily emboldens flighty nestlings

Chirping weepy outcry timber felled

 

PoeArtry by: Charles Frederickson & Saknarin Chinayote


 

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STANLEY ANN DUNHAM (1942 – 1995)

Sprung from apparent inspirational stimulus

     Obamama described as original feminist

          Taproot source wondrous probing curiosity

               Unconventional revelatory truthitudes discovery learnt

 

Heir-conditioned daring free spirited breakaway

     Embracing not shunning cultural diversity

          Chillaxing all that jazz cool

               Struggle to make a difference

 

Generously empowering others celebrating life

     Championed rural development core issues

          Created sustainable microfinance program model

               Encouraging savings for destitute poor

 

Intellectually way ahead of time

     Pinball wizard full tilt plunger

          Erudite Ph.D. dissertation subtitled “Surviving

               And Thriving Against All Odds”

 

Smile sharp wit comfortable self-assured

     Personality shaped our next president

          Macrocosmic worldview challenger questioning nature

               Bridging racial ethnic religious divides

 

PoeArtry by: Charles Frederickson and Saknarin Chinayote

From Billy Ralph & The Pizza Factory III

for Barry

way out in space

out so far

that if a man went that far

& came back

to talk about it

he’d be younger

than his grandchildren

…that far out in space

a red giant implodes

slow grey clouds rumble

in gale-warning wind

over the lens of Palomar

but when the game isn’t televised

there’s always the radio

play-by-play

& if perchance we fall asleep

listening to the twink & sparkle

we can catch highlites

during breakfast

in the daily

computer read-out

—complete with boxscore

& current standings

such is the thoroughness

of scientific tech…

 

what are you doing now?  :asks Billy Ralph

Wamba does the funky chicken in the street

(the famous James Brown version

with obvious adjustments

for Wamba’s physical structure)

what planet were you born on? :says Wamba:

I’m trying to get to the other side

 

she said:  he said:  trying is lying

:says Billy Ralph reflecting:

in a championship softball game

bases were loaded

one away

two runs behind

last inning

I was up

(batted clean up all year)

a strong wind

blew in from left

the pitch was inside

I tried to go to right

& popped to 2nd

            shock

picture of myself

as a hero

(I didn’t know I had it)

—cracked—

my cover was blown

nude

& more embarrassed than anything

the scene replayed

in my head

for years

if only I…

if only I…

 

a red giant

becomes a white dwarf

this transition is nebulous…

 

Wamba dances

hears the time-changes

in the situation

1,2,3,…1,2,3,…1,2,6,9

punchline turns

into personal confession

confessor is locked in

a different time

he has made a choice

gone to the movies

pays his admission

sits down

enters the time-stream

& rides…

outside the theater

a riot goes on

he is involved in the movie

conscious of little else

he zooms

he pans

he cuts to…

hears exaggerated click

shoe to floor

movie becomes a lens to focus

changing scenes outside

…he can leave at anytime

 

way out in space

we reach into

the hive of swarming

nebulae

searching for sweet honey

radio telescope

(via satellite)

zooms data

down to Earth

for interpretation

1 scientist substantiates his theory

another

with a new theory is excited

it’s in the stars…

both will become controversial figures

there can be no politics in science

a scientist must maintain

objectivity

—that’s what it gets paid for

 

Wamba dances

feeds confessor a new question:

is light a particle

or wave?

Billy Ralph strikes a match

scratch of friction becomes suck of combustion

hot glows yellow flame

sulpher scent

appearance is always the same

drip on a stick

“matches”

Billy’s face lights up

once darkened portions of his features

have definition

street lights :go on

his visage is even clearer…

 

what is truth?  :asks Billy Ralph

my flesh is completely new

every seven years

but the waves I feel

change all the time…

 

when I was in little league—

the argus boxscored our games

right next to the big leagues

I’d always compare my stats with the pros

year I made all-stars

my batting average was

higher than Mays or Aaron

but I don’t think I made

top 10 in our league

still my dreams soared…

 

years later, a friend asked me

to go to a Giants game…

seemed so slow

an old familiar face

the years I played this game

been swayed by this game

we had almost nothing in common

these pros were so much better

the roster said they were younger than me

I felt embarrassed

a friendship had faded

I had missed its passing

sometimes

I think it’s only my name

that holds me together

Billy Ralph & The Pizza Factory Prologue

dust devils dance on

the floor of decayed chicken houses

kicking up heels of white feathers,

the smell of the daily grind

that had encyclopedias calling

this place: The Egg Basket of the World

Captain Bill & Billy Ralph stand, crow bars

in hand, ignoring

the growth of golden rolling hills,

eucalyptic sprouts…

40 feet high, sway & creak—

spearheads spiral down from their limbs

to cover the paths of brown

beetles & slugs

Capt. Bill & Billy Ralph are

scavengers tearing down

obsolete structures

& salvaging the wood

to sell to new builders

this is the work

this is the life

passed down from generations

from “the old country”

where Bill was raised

to America where Billy Ralph was born

it’s so simple — Billy Ralph gets lost

in timeless exchange

…day into day

no separation

no rift of dark ocean

piece merges into piece…

the whole always more than the sum of its parts

Billy Ralph swells into these moments

swirling like the devils

& is inclined to forget

bloodlines for the incarnations of this spirit

it is for this reason Wamba sits

on Billy’s shoulders Wamba is

his pet chicken with all the sights & sounds

& smells of yesteryear

Wamba is the spur for Billy Ralph’s whole body…

Earth Cinema Circle

 

Landslides

this is a portion of part 1 of a 4 part poem

focus, i am a house of rubble, pull out from beneath the ruined pangs of sobriety, set on collapsing your aura clear into an ocean of visual and sonic phenomena. prisms and mirrors abound, buried under the color of headlights in rainwater at night, them dissipating with glassy shadows. swaying with the dashboard, while radios speak and jumbo jets are soaring over lonely motels. there are television towers taller than the highest spire on the greatest skyscraper: i use them to broadcast my thirst for you across the haunted continent. you’re a cake coated with acquiescence, i forbid you to eat drink or piss until these threads are untangled. chased down through the wires, clocks that rise and fall and form ghostly walls around the proverbial vegetation. shapes torn to shreds, to cease my sleepy spasms, piles of abandoned effigies are woken by the voltage. currents crash your cartoon character and shimmer against the paper. dark white words, turned and spun through a cyclic pattern, you line them up i’ll knock them down. meanwhile oxygen outbursts and warm fears, bodies surfacing like dead jellyfish. it’s timely, the spacious tongues rhythmically stirring inside. on hometown streets with starry maps, guiding you are the power lines, parallel like we. rivers of regret run through valleys of desire and over mountains of indecision. spliced our two identities, i am the dynamo of how to calculate the forces and probability of this collision. so, heave your bags of grain to the junkyard, grab your luggage and climb aboard the vessel, this is a one way flight with no stops.

Reason

What do I do when I don’t have a clue?

sit here, and I wanna be angry,
but it’s so hard tonight.
There are so many reasons to cry,
tonight,
not one can I find.
not a reason.

Wonder Why…
I don’t hear an angry word
all I see is beautiful
everything is dissolved in the night,
it could be ’cause I hear you…
or maybe I just hear myself…

So opposite, so far apart
and so much pain separates our words.
and in my mind I wanna hit the wall ’cause I know there
is a reason I should,
but tonight I can’t hold to any anger,
no reason.

Wonder Why…
I don’t hear an angry word,
all I see is wonder,
everything is dissolved in the night.
Is it because I hear you,
or maybe I just hear myself?
I really can’t think of a reason to be angry tonight.

Landslides

this is a portion of part 1 of a 4 part poem
 

lastly but not a blue floral moon, incandescent and silently struck the pavement before digressing its directive was somber, says go and be tides sweeping your fatal tectonic plates, forks, knives and spoons, written on a napkin “we will not bother you.” we will dismantle the future on sheets of mercury, smooth sharp silvery sunsets, instead stop and slide out of space for a second. rendered motionless, devoured by clams and eels swimming over horizons of fissures and lobes. synapses are buzzing, dendrites reaching out like a man whose had his legs blown off by a mortar. that last piece of friction follows you down to the dead meadow, whispering through the keyhole our wishes are made of plastic. us, we circling the idea of coition like black magnets. above jars filled with coins, seated aside the eternal toothpaste is a prescription for love, the expiration date having passed. take out your pen and copy this word for word, invading me with those sore eyes, what runs through those veins and beats in your chest do you know. inches are just another unit, but exactly how many will it take before i bulldoze your memory. preceding me there shall be a gigantic chasm, hollow winds drifting over and over. far from a meaningless speck, i would be your world if i only tried, swallowing orange laughter, nails bent and cracked. my loving is a bit rusty, but yours is getting dusty.

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Your Guardian

I will come to you in the dark of night
and I will hold you
and never let you feel alone…
I will be there to help you find a way.
Just Believe in Me,
Believe ,
Just Believe.
I can hear the cry within you,
let your tears subside,
I will be by your side,
I will hold you
through the night,
Just Believe in me,
Believe,
Believe in Me.
I will hold you,
I am here,
I am real,
as long as you just believe in me,
Believe in me.