my demonic muses

MY DEMONIC MUSESmy demonic muses
light their firework fuses
I wish to entertain
  but muse writing is pain

I want to write for folks
who like trick words and jokes
comedies romantic
humor slapstick frantic

or write a fairy tale
where princes do not wail
piggies don’t get eaten
goose girls never beaten

instead these dire warnings
fill my early mornings
when I’d rather sip tea
in chuckling reverie

my muse repartee zings
but not amusing things
fingers chattering keys
leave me quivering knees

their work never seems done
leaves little time for fun
write here like a muse slave
perhaps the world we’ll save

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Thanks for reading.


the puppet shows

the puppet showsthe puppet shows
make things seem queer
more odd-ball grows
each passing year

rainbow flag noise
distracts from rest
good girls and boys
yell they know best

gay party town
the weekend long
just dance and clown
feel all belong

hold hands and sing
sigh about love
won golden ring
from feds above

I can’t help think
just distraction
better not blink
main attraction

heat coming soon
homeland police
armed to the moon
remember Greece

hung out to dry
in the hot sun
better ask why
our banks don’t run

arrangements bought
forty years past
all wars since fought
from this die cast

Nixon sold us
as sand-land guards
too late to fuss
he played those cards

equals world cash
we guard Kingdom
our bucks won’t crash

if no one strays
from killer deals
whole world pays
for our meals

but walk away
(we wouldn’t dare)
it won’t be play
sand ev’rywhere

all things must end
we’re nearly done
other deals bend
no place to run

so wave rainbow
like it matters
our old wars grow
greedy tatters

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Thanks for reading.


giant octopus

GIANT OCTOPUSgiant octopus in cave
no one sees so none can save
stomach chilled by what I saw
all slide down toward its maw

tentacles uncoil and grab
I give one of them a jab
only thing I have is stick
but it seems to do the trick

around cave hole children play
I shout at them ‘run away!’
but my cries fall on deaf ears
like not one among them hears

so I enter danger zone
to save children all alone
catch a kid under each arm
try to drag them out of harm

sliding sand under my feet
slips us downward to be meat
I drop children tell them ‘run’
but they think this is for fun

so they race back near the cave
then I realize I can’t save
those who cannot will not do
the things which I tell them to

I climb up and find the gate
hope it’s not already late
to save me and mine from thus
eaten by huge octopus

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Thanks for reading.


thorn in love

320px-Olivia_Chow_with_Pride_Coloursthorn in love
all fashion sense lost
pride parade

* * * * *

with this thorn
bonded forever
blood sisters

* * * * *

thorn of truth
speculations crash
gambler jumps

* * * * *

beauty sleeps
brambles surround her
prince cuts through

* * * * *

freedom’s thorn
our wars never end

* * * * * * *

These five haiku were inspired by the Haiku Horizons word prompt “thorn”.


Thanks for reading.


listening for a signal

3 THEY WANTED A HOMEA few weeks ago we considered moving to a town 2800 miles from here. It has sunshine plus affordable housing and water. There was the possibility of a job. My husband liked the people he spoke with there. The satellite view looked good. I thinned our belongings and prepared to leave.

In the end we decided to stay. Robert would rather rent a home, ration water and work for this small company where he knows everyone than buy a house, have a reliable water supply and be an anonymous cog in the belly of a multinational corporation.

I decided that a happy husband, thriving children and warm community relationships trump my fantasies of home-ownership. So I gave up on the idea. I can even live with the BIG drought and uncertainty in our water supply. We let those birds of possibility fly away.

I especially felt relief when I released my desire to “own” a building and a chunk of land. Aside from house-wants, I and mine are happy living right where we are. It was those nagging weeping house-wants that unsettled me enough to consider a 2800 mile move.

It’s possible that my desire to own another house is not simply my own. It could have been seeded through the mass brainwashing (marketing) necessary to take over and maintain control of our great people and continent. The “Go West Young Man” campaign of our pioneer and westward-expansion days survives in the “American Dream of Home Ownership”. And our current myth of “economic recovery” rests on each American dreamer taking on a lifetime of debt to become “home owners”.

But it’s possible that my recent itching-niggling curse of “house wants” is just a individual materialistic vulnerability. Maybe it’s just ordinary human greed. Or maybe the house-wants bloomed from the night soil of too much traveling without any home to come home to.

FOUR LIVES  IN FOUR SUITCASESDuring one recent year my family of four lived out of five suitcases in a series of eight different furnished rentals in two countries. I carried my four best kitchen knives taped into a cardboard sleeve. I policed our luggage to keep it efficient. I learned what it’s possible to do without.

But however I came to be infected with the house-wants, letting go of them has set me free to enjoy life more. But even as I’ve moved beyond my house-wants I’ve been left with a residual uncomfortable restlessness.

Our individualized cultural training would have me believe that these feelings are uniquely my own. Modern medical psychology would wall me off from all other humans and brand my feelings as separate, individual and mine. I’ve been taught that we each live encased in meaty bunkers and personal boundaries and are 100% responsible for our experiences. Officially my feelings would either be classed as neurotic anxiety caused by some forgotten childhood distress or as a chemical imbalance in my brain caused by deficiencies in my genetic heritage.

And perhaps my unsettled feelings are uniquely mine. It’s possible that my individual life experiences or the random biology of my birth have made it feel more normal to be an arrow in flight than to be housed tight inside a quiver.

But perhaps this restlessness I feel is part of a more widespread phenomenon. It could be a symptom arising from the fragmentation and death of community and family relationships caused by industrialization. Or maybe these feelings bubble up from the hot compost of uncertainty in our troubled economic times. The feeling could also be blowing in the wind like the dust from our BIG drought. It could be a contagious human herd survival impulse toward migration.

CALIFORNIA DROUGHT MAP JUNE 23, 2015 FROM THE FEDERAL GOVERENMENTAfter all, there is this BIG, persistent and worsening drought that chews great hunks from the economic foundations and livability of California. I and my family and 38 million other people may soon need to decide where else we can go live just to survive.

Yes. I gave up on buying a house. Yes. We decided to stay put. Yes. I feel relief from these decisions. But yes. I still feel mildly unsettled, disoriented and watchful.

Even as I spend my days enjoying life and growing roots, I feel as if I’m waiting and listening for a signal that it’s time to leave. But from whom and where would this signal emanate? And what would this signal look or sound or feel like?

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Thanks for reading.


secrets bleed

RIDE IN HEARSE (wikimedia commons)secrets bleed
scarlet need
unsung deed
sullen seed

little bird
never heard
not one word
sour milk curd

can’t be said
sand fills bed
spiders dread
gold turns lead

seems too late
grows so great
becomes hate
locks the gate

never seen
truth turns mean
dirt won’t clean
jams the spleen

strips life bare
nothing fair
blocks fresh air

when one day
want to say
tongue turns clay
won’t away

secrets worse
than a curse
hoard in purse
ride in hearse

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Thanks for reading.