Google, I'm Feeling Lucky

Monday monday MONday monDAY MoNdAy.

Google, I'm Feeling Lucky

I just saw

Richard Pryor, Dennis Hopper, and Orson Welles,

stepping to and fro

amongst images of

World War I,

my mother's thirtieth birthday,

a deep sea diver with his hand wrapped around

a strand of golden-green coral,

six..Million..dead..Jews,

a hundred..thousand..dead..Haitians,

three..thousand..dead..Americans,

and a billion, living, smiling faces.

Budder

I've decided to switch it up and title the post after the poems. Just better that way.

BUDder

BROAD-BOLD and BEEEEAUUUUTIFUL!
Tell that to your body
as you
SLATHER your FACE
with just a teeeeny HELP-ing of
SPITTLE draped
DEVIL cakes!
Wrapped in sugary plastic!
...

Fat is Fat, fool. And it's what you are.

Cleaning Day

'Cuz my place is kinda filthy.

Dab of Grease

Tucked into a corner

in a greasy-warm diner,

I'm picking my teeth

with golden po-taa-tooes.

The jukebox kicks on

and shoots juicy tunes down my throat,

and a cycle of burger-platters ring-a-round my table.

Walking out is a flash of flavors,

fatty-fried-battered sensations.

I step out the door...

and it's just a little cold.

Mario's Birthday

Happy Birthday Mario Mickey Haynes! (It ain't about you, kid. [exhales on cigarette])

Luv-Seat

Couched on a love seat,

with a phosss-fluorescent tube

gluing us down...

pulses fluttering...

an itchy heat...rrollling

off our hearts and chestsss...

my pink...y fing...ger touch...es light...ly... upon...your palm...

N' sommmethinggg eeelectriccc

CUTS OFF

The Atmosphere!

And all we're breathing...

is each other.

Begin Countdown to As You Like It: 5 Days

Wine + Cali N Titos + Friends = Chiiiiiiiill

Thoroughly Steamed

Dip a foot into the bathtub...

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Float the rest of my body

into the tough-white-plastic pool,

squeezing the edge

until my skin goes red,

and the hhhe-e-eat

rolls up my back n' radiates in every pore!

...Haaaaaaaaaaa...

Sweaty hair clinging to a forehead...

Beating eyes pulsing in the steam...

Acting BreakThrough Day

It's true that acting is a step foward, step back process. Today was a leap foward, and it brightened my entire day. I'm finding that having as many creative outlets as possible really make my days feel far better. Plus writing poems tickles my mind. But enough free internet counselling for me. This thing's about the poem.

Ridin' Haunts

As I'm cycling through the green way,

I begin to see the same faces at every turn.

They blur back into my memory,

and then they dissolve, altogether.

Ghosts that ride along with me when I shift gears.

Singing Out Loud Commendation Day

Today I dedicate this minor blurb of a posting to all those who go above and beyond the regular humming or whistling of whatever song has been caught droning in their head. Today I celebrate those who open up wide and belt out whatever song their riding high on! Go you!

Momma's Squueezin' Grapefruit

Moooooooooommaaaaaaaa.

Momma's squeezin' grapefruit,

drainin' grapefruit

into opaque Rubber-Maid pitchers.

Momma's drainin' grapefruit,

letting the pink juice

course across her hands.

Scooping in handfuls of ice,

she stirs it with a wooden spoon

and dries her fingers on the sink towel.

Outside,

I don't even notice,

knee deep in fresh cut grass.

Mmmmmmm,

but in the back of my mind

I see that sweaty green glass,

cool to the touch n' sweet to the taste.

And when Momma comes outside,

I cut the mower off, and drink deeply.

...

She smiles, n' I shrug.

When I go inside,

the pitcher's waitin' in the fridge.

Frustrating Day

Acting drives me crazy. You make one great step forward only to be sucked backwards all over again. It can never be perfect, because it can always get better. But naturally I want to be perfect! Grrrrrrrrr, conundrum.

One week of summer school left. Then I'm left to my own devices. Ugh.

Distill It Down

Plunge your hands in,

grab on, and get whipped about.

When you finally are thrown,

scramble back.

No one catches a fish without getting wet.

Very Sweaty Day

Today was another (albeit hot) do nothing day. It sent me into waves of boredom and sloth, which just goes to show how sold I am into going to school and working...lame.

Inspiration #2: A Recipe

Go lie under a magnolia tree

and let the grass root its way into your hair.

Baptize yourself

in the sticky-sweet-scent

of white blossoms.

Wrap your fingers, fingers in the clover,

and if you can,

hold each other's hand.

...

Stay...Still...

...

Now.

When you feel the pulse beneath your back

begin to beat

together-with-your breath,

Rise up!

Start running!

Saturday at Herty Field

I met some cool new people wandering around Herty field today! It's always cool when you feel a friendship start. Anywho,

Yammermeister Meisteryammer

Yammer-yammer yammer-yammer

Full speed ahead, lips!

Churn out another bit-a-smattering of glib

to spray against your ears-'n-eyes,

I'll BLIND you with talk-'n-divert your gaze from mine!

You've met a master of gab in me, sweetie,

a silver tongued beast,

a sly mouthed whisperer who'll beat-n'-bind

with flattery, my specialty.

Don't try to catch and crack me open, child!

I outwit wisdom,

and tie you in knots of vanity.

Fri-Day

Thanks to a week of staying up late and mask making, my internal clock is off by several hours. Now I have to reach inside and hold down a button until I start flashing "12:00".

A Quick Ditty

You know...

even when the lights are out,

speaking with you seems to shed some light.

Good Day

Good day! That about describes it. Except Thomas naggin' me about chewing gum. I'm just saying: why do I, a completely legal gum chewer, have to spit my gum out just because someone else doesn't like the sound of me chewing? Do I stop eating just because you don't like the looks of it? :p

Car Ride Daydream

Slammed like a fist
on my wrist,
arm, leg, my whole body compressed into
a flat mass of ribs.
My skin, slashed
by busted metal and shrapnel glass,
sends me into an epiphany!
My wounds are doorways to the golden moments in life,
and as they flash before me, I weep for love,
Love you Momma, Love you Daddy, Love you my children friends family,
Love you all, Love you all, Love you all.
But in mere moments,
you are all swept from my eyes,
and all I see...
is I'm bleeding!

Day 300 in the Mask Hole

This is has to be the fifth poem I've sent online from Thomas' computer while we make masks. We've decided we're going to make a business out of it, a duo of mask performers! The MasKings!

Bumping into Phantoms

I met a phantooommm
today...
She's floating 'roouund and 'roouund and 'roouund
and she's in myyy wayyy...
I will not stir herrrrr
from her place...
'Cuz when we touch,
she bloows she bloows my soooul
awaaayyy...
And it goes driftinggg,
alonggg with hers...
'n we swimm doown swimm doown swimm doown,
cradled in the eaarrth.

Ain't No Damn Tuna Fish Sandwich Poem

It's true. This is not a damn tuna fish poem, Thomas. Even though it's in there. And don't think just 'cuz I MENTION a tuna fish sandwich that it makes it a damn tuna fish sandwich poem. It was on my brain. Shut up.

Annoying tuna fish sandwiches aside, today's been good so far. I broke my Glee cherry today. Not bad! And normally I hiss like a sick cat at anything related to musical theatre. Sometimes I wonder if that stems from a deep, repressed love of singing onstage....bagh.

Incubating

With a condom wrapper behind my head,
neighboring a greasy tuna sandwich stain
and a pool of milky plaster,
you and I are...
building.
Pouring ourselves together
to mold something sacred,
out of nothing but our will.
Forming forms 'til now unknown to all,
even ourselves.

Mask Makin' Day

Today Thomas and I are finishing up makin' masks. Woot! Nothing quite beats hanging in a messy room, lying about on a bed, writing poems, making masks and putting off the day.

Grammar Suggestion

I'll tell you what:
if you say my name when you say "Good-bye"...
or "Hello"...
or "Do you want some ketchup?"...
"I hate you!"...
"My blister burst."
"I love you."
"Can I borrow a quarter?"
"Do I get you hot?", "What's your phone number?", "You look nice today", "I enjoyed your work", "I can't believe you,"
"I'll never love again where's my cell phone I'm moving to Italy it's for you come over move over it'll blow over youdidit I'msoproudsoproudsoPROUD of you,"
Then I'll say yours as well.
We're so much more than pronouns.

Lazy Day #1

I call today Lazy Day #1 because I am ab-so-lute-ly positive that I will have another. Today I gave my life over to shameless non-sleep, mask-making (with no sleep), Chekhov studying (sans sleep? oui!) and FullMetal Alchemist watching (see above parenthetical comments). So I napped most of the day. Wah wah wah.

Too late to change it now!

Lazy Day #1

I totter away from home

and fall into the soft grass,

letting sunshine kiss me asleep.

First Time I Was Late Day

Curses! I'm late! Please forgive me. Thomas and I are making masks and writing poems together like a couple of six year olds. This one went a little longer than I thought, too. Hope it was worth the MISSED DEADLINE!!! ARRRRGGGHHH!!!!

Losing My Little HighLighter

As I set my bag down,
my green highlighter jumps up and rolls off the dock,
hits the river and
DIIIIIIIIIVES!
It's off and away,
zipping past fish and stones and foam!
With a
?!Plink!?
it plows out of the surface,
ca-rreeeeeening and rr-oooocking from siide to siide.
"NO!"
I cry!
"We had so little time together!"
Its neon calls back fearlessly,
"I treasure our time! I'll never forget!"
and the river whisks him downstream.
...
The waters grow rough and
BLOOOOOOOW
and
ROOOOOOOARR
him under!
They crush him,
Beat him,
Drown him
Out, they choke him off and swallow him up,
ink, cap and all.
A passing naiad giggles at his color and changes her hair to match.
When he swims back to the surface again,
I call,
"Will you be safe? Can you live alone?"
He smiles and shines!
"Your pocket prepared me well!
I am bold and bright and boundless!"
and the river whisks him downstream.
...
A mighty gray heron
sweeps his wing down to the water,
skimming the beaming marker.
The great aviator leaps and glides away,
and as he rises over the lapping waves
my precious green child follows his shadow.
As the river opens before him and the sun lights the way,
I call:
"My faith and hopes go with you! Have all my love!"
The marker warmly calls,
"I hold them close! You're with me forever!"
and the river...
whisks him out of sight.
...
I sleep on the dock for the night,
a little highlighter out of my pocket forever,
yet glowing in my heart.

One Week Down Day

Yay for a full week of poems! Just a few more...like a year's worth!

I was a little preemptive declaring myself on a bad mood swing. Today's been great, save for a wimpy foot with a lousy arch. But the weekend's here now. Time to soak it up.

Inspiration

Out on the floor,

all the dancers spiral.

And as I watch,

they ri-i-i-ise into the air

and begin to shine.

Then suddenly they disappear!

Dancing lights,

encircling the stage.

As we charge on, they brighten the way.

BioRhythm Sinking Day

I could feel my energy on a down-curve today. I hate these days 'cuz they only mean that the next couple of days are going to be filled with internal pessimism, doubt and grumpy attitudes.

On the up-side, though, did see a wonderful production of Charlotte's Web today, and rehearsals for As You Like It took off like a shot. So things aren't that bad!

I feel that this one is a bit sappy. I blame the the sinking biorhythm.

Auditorium Seating

To you,

three seats over and five rows back:

I feel your glances

against my back.

And even though I'm wrapped in texts and fonts,

know I'm blinking back at you,

Inviting you five rows and three seats close

To me.

Revoking-Love-To-Jesse Day

Yesterday I was filled with praise for Jesse Goodson. Now I'm not sure anymore...She's gonna have to earn the love back now.

Whatever, luv ya Jess. Even if I can't catch a break from you. :D

Good Day's Run

I've got the earth chained to my back,

with thick iron links chafing at my shoulders.

Harnessed to the sai-i-i-i-idewalk,

I can't go back,

so I go foward,

soakin' up Nature.

Mud slaps against my thighs,

and tree frogs swim in my pockets,

callin' KREE-KREE!!!

KREE-KREE!!!...when I reach for my keys.

My skin's gone coarse from all the weather,

and I'm givin' off a sick-sweet scent,

a smell of sludge-earth-rain-sweat 'n honeysuckle.

My hair's washed off in the rain,

and it falls in lumps at my feet.

Butterflies camp along my arms,

squeezing into the creases

that aaaaaaage and eaaaaaaarth and sun and WEIGHT

has FOLDED over me.

...

The skin of my feet is dead and rots.

...

Yet as a fellow trudges by,

with his own chains, and muck, and frogs, and rot,

he throws me a wink.

I catch it, and toss back a smile.

First Day of Class

I thought I had lost my birth certificate today. Nearly killed myself trying to find it. And where was it? Tucked away in a play anthology. In my room. In front of me. Some things don't change, from seven years old to twenty-one.

This one goes out to Jesse Goodson, who though she doesn't know it was chatting with me when this one was concieved. Luv ya, Jess. Let it be known she was my first scene partner ever.

Thoughts in a Print and Copy Center Lobby

DON'T bother

the curly-blonde haired girl

standing by the counter.

...

She's...statuesque,

flaxen curls wrapping around her face,

hiding it as she studies an endless list of prices.

And even as we queue up behind her,

'n some greasy barker in the back

whiiiiiines

about the hour,

I WON'T disturb her shoulder...

...

even to just see...

if her eyes are blue...

Maymester's Eve Day

I decided today that I would go for a run, a nearly unheard of thing for me these days. Of course it would be raining. But I ran, and I ran for a good long while, too. Awfully proud of myself. My soaking wet self. As I ran I began to develop an inner monologue for myself. Allow me to present it to you:

I say: "Here we go!"
The subtext: "Damn fool. You see all this rain? I'ma get soaked! My sneakers are already wet. Nobody's out runnin' in the rain, fool. Look at that pigeon looking at you. You know what he's thinkin'? He's thinkin' 'Man, I'M smarter than that guy runnin' in the rain. And I'm a damn pigeon.' "

Here's the poem.

Two Jawers

These two jawers,

stained with grey T-shirts,

are rolling off their seats.

They yammer:

...I'da ruhn 'n ruhn awl detime

I'se young.

I curled 'rooooounnnn 'n mahy...

Daddy's woods, yea...

Nuthin a be scared of...

in Daddy's woods.

Ida run straight tru delake,

'n dewater leap out deway...

cuz it love me dat much.

Mother's Day

I've had a headache all day long. Water isn't fixing it. Neither are the acetaminophen/tylenol/pills-es that I've taken. Is it karma for not sending my mom breakfast in bed? I don't think so...she talked to me today and she didn't seem like she was in a hexing mood.

But enough whining. Happy Mother's Day. Momma: consider this one all for you.

The Traffic Buzz

There'sawhirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRR

ROARing all outside, churning up the world.

Stick-my-head-out-the-window-and

CCCRRRAAASSSHHH,

it rattles me silly.

But it's where I want to be!

Step into my BAThroom... n' I've got SILence...

Tears, Sweat, Blood and Alcohol

Right now, I am of the opinion that when I graduate college I will not walk. Well, I'll be able to walk, both ceremonially and physically. What I mean is right now I don't want to walk when I graduate...ceremonially. Hopefully my feet will be just fine.

Of course that could change tomorrow, for all I know, and it could definitely change in a year. But I'll work that out later.

When I awoke this morning I could hear my three college roomates hustling about and getting ready for their college graduation. I curled up under a comforter and listened to them. Muttering, laughing, excitement, smiling...I heard it all through a thin wooden door and ears half full of sleep. And so, inspired by them, here's my first blog in verse:

TearsSweatBlood and Alcohol

Her gown whips

and sli-i-i-i-ides along her bare legs,

The breeze just keeping her cool enough,

blowing her into a

ffuhlap-ffuhlapping black flag with tassles and smiles.

TWENTY YEARS PERCOLATE!!!

...Stand...

Sit.

And a beebeebeeping cell phone,

reads, "Congrats! :D"

Commencement

Oooo, blogs...Julie and Julia made it look so easy...

Anywho.

I've been looking for some kind of a blog idea, simply because the blogger friends I have seem to enjoy it and I wanted to get into the action. But I was having trouble coming up with something worth saying. I could slap up a photo a day, but then I'd have to take pictures everyday. And I'm just too busy to be a shutterbug. I wouldn't dare journal online. That's why they still make composition notebooks. I was at a loss.

But today! Bum BUM!

Today I woke up to the sound of my three roomates getting themselves ready their undergraduate college graduation. I'm a third year, so I was able to sleep in today. But while I was laying back in my bed all swaddled in linens a thought for a poem drifted into my head. And as I'm scribbling it down (in a composition notebook, of course), WHAM and I'm hit with the idea to blog poetry.

I personally consider poetry to be one of the least lucrative art forms of the written word, and therefore commercially obsolete. But it's also my favorite way to write, so whatevs. Lucky me!

So here's my goal: One poem a day for at least a year. It's fun, it's creative, and it connects me to the blog scene, which is always a great thing to toss into a conversation. I could put it on a watermarked business card...