four five seven five

all little moments
coalesce into a life:
habits, character

climate, not weather
is determined by small choice
steady rotations

inexorably
seasons change, but in rhythm
a cadence steady

same things over and over
small tweaks of navigation
hope is powerful

Oops...I did it again (spendaholic version)

I think I did it again
I convinced myself it's okay to spend

oh money

yes I'm sure it's a steal
I know that I've found a true, real deal

cause to open my wallet
That is just so typically me

oh! spending money

[CHORUS:]

Oops!...I did it again

I found a great deal, got lost in the thrill
oh! spending money

oops you'd think that I'd stop
But I'll shop til I drop
Or till they take my card

You see my problem is this:
I can shop all day,
Online or in stores, Wal-Mart or E-Bay

I cry, paying the bills
I say I'm all done, I'm through with deal thrills

But to open my wallet,
That is just so typically me...

[Repeat CHORUS]

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah


Please note:
I'm not trying to make light of people with the very serious habit of overextending themselves financially on a regular basis. It's a serious thing, and I'm not recommending it. I just couldn't resist the parody that popped in my mind one day at work. Also it's kind of ironic because anyone who knows me knows that in a past life I was related to Ebenezer Scrooge in his pre-Christmas Carol days.

Fed Up**

I'm fed up with you.
I'm fed up with you.
I'm not fed down, fed around, fed under
Not fed in, fed out, just about fed over
You starved love 'anywhere a cat can go'
All that's left is up so that's where I'll aim for
Got no emotion left to give to you
I'm just fed up. We're through.

You treat me like I'm nothin' when you know full well I'm not.
Don't even have the grace to give me notice of your thought
That maybe we're not good as two and single is your pref
I'm shouting via text to you and you pretend you're deaf 

That's why:

I'm fed up with you.
I'm fed up with you

I'm not fed down, fed around, fed under
Not fed in, fed out, just about fed over
You starved love 'anywhere a cat can go'
All that's left is up so that's where I'll aim for
Got no emotion left to give to you
I'm just fed up. We're through.

You never call me when you say you will and that's not cool 
Then give me lame excuses like you think that I'm a fool
I tried to make excuses and I told myself 'it's fine'
I truly can't believe I ever wanted you as mine.

I passed initial numbness and moved on to Angry Girl
I'm out of softish objects that it's safe for me to hurl
I skipped right past resigned and now I'm at this new heart stage:
'The lameness that you are should incite a public outrage.'

And so:

I'm fed up with you.
I'm fed up with you
I'm not fed down, fed around, fed under
Not fed in, fed out, just about fed over
You starved love 'anywhere a cat can go'
All that's left is up so that's where I'll aim for
Got no emotion left to give to you
I'm just fed up. We're through.




**All characters in this work of fiction are purely fictional. Any references to real people, events, or places is incidental and should not be construed as anything else. Meaning, I did not write this about me. Or about you. It's what my mom would call a high school poem.

Pomegranate Love

(Sung to the tune of "My love is like a red, red rose")

My love is a large pomegrante, plucked fresh from the tree
My love contains an aril sweet, tart juices bursting free
Though you must dig to find the fruit, and pay old Hades' fee
My love will stain your stubborn heart, and you will ne'er be free

My love's sequestered deep inside, a gem inside a mine
My love's a tough extraction job, it's delicate and fine
Can't push too much or pull too hard, or else the ruby breaks
And leaves its bright red tears behind, hearts' ransom it forsakes.

But if you find the precious fruit, and nourish it with love
The seed that's planted will grow strong, as if blessed from above
And it will bear a love so rare; one money cannot buy:
A tender heart, sincere soft words, a lovelight in the eye.

Clammy

near sweat, close to cold
partially warm, not dry or wet
uncomfy limbo


a state of being
associated with nerves,
handholds, and fever

Echoes

A Poem for Two Voices


Give up                                   Give up
says the hammer of stress
beating a tattoo of drudgery
on your dreams                       on your dreams

Give up                                   Give up
                                                sing the fog horns
in forlorn low tones
letting the light of hope fade
to a glimmer
                                                shimmer
mirage
                                                in the distance

All right                                  All right
says your heart
                                                countering with its lonely tattoo
a solitary thump without echo
                                                ...... echo?
What?                                     What?
 Stop.
                                                Did you hear?                                        
A voice
                                                Small and soft
In the background
                                                Nervous at first, then growing stubborn and
Strong                                     Strong, calling out
In a loud, singing echo:
I won't
                                                I won't
I can't
                                                I can't
think that working
                                                and toiling
and fearing
                                                is the whole story

I'll hope  a new sun                 I'll hope
                                                a new moon
 a new faith
                                                a new song
is just beyond my
Reach                                      Reach

                       

Because I Love You (a poem for two voices)

Because I love you,                          Because I love you,
I wash the dirty laundry
Fold it neatly                                    Fold you neatly
                                                         in my arms when you’re sad
Because you love me                      Because you love me
                                                       You buy apple beer
                                                       So I can enjoy the
                                                       Pop, foam
Twist, fizz
Of its charming flavor

Because I love you                        Because I love you
I look for bargain airfare
                                                      I try seafood
I offer to drive
                                                       I tolerate your music
I make you fresh-squeezed orange juice
                                                       I do the dishes, with water steaming
Hot                                                 Hot
Tamales are your favorite
                                                       Lemon tea cakes are your weakness
I know chips and salsa are your staple
                                                       I know spaghetti is your comfort


Because you love me                      Because you love me
You iron your own shirts
                                                        You pay your share of the bills
And mine                                         And mine
Because I don’t like to                    Because I don’t like to

Because I love you                          Because I love you
I reset my hug timer
                                                         I open my arms
So there’s no excuse                       So there’s no excuse
For me not to say
                                                         For me not to echo
That I love you, too.                        That I love you, too.

The Long and Winding Road (reversed), e.e. cummings style

if i can't love for forever
then i don't want to love at all
if there's no faith in tomorrow
the giddy joy's not worth the fall

is there some point to this heartache
will my soul ever start to heal?
"getting over it" is not easy
hard to forget what made you feel

they say life's too short for grudges
but pain has a long memory
the dull grey foggy ache of hurt
makes even small joys hard to see

after your heart cracks for the first time nothing's ever quite the same
it sometimes seems to hard to let go and to somehow stop the blame

i have a long and winding road
to travel, as the old song says
and miles to go before i sleep
so now i'd best be on my way

Looking for housing in the city

the vacuum bag's full, and the garbage can, too;
the shower is pink with bacterial goo...
the tv is blaring, the hall smells like pot
and all of the food in the fridge? Full of rot!

the cupboards are sticky and covered with ants
and under the sink roaches do a small dance
the laundry room's gathering spiders and lint
to see out the windows, well, one has to squint

the neighbors are fighting, and sirens blare out
the drunk on the corner complains he has gout
the paint's chipped and cracked, and is starting to peel
so you see, city life? it has little appeal.

I think I'll start looking for housing elsewhere
perhaps in the country, where there's fresher air
where dogs bark and kids play and stars can appear
and I can go walking with little to fear.