Wednesday, October 31, 2012
HAPPY WOK
L7.
Shrimp Chow Mein
Pork Fried Rice
Wonton soup
hot tea/
Hurricane Sandy aftermath
drives me to hot lunch out
at local Chinese got power
and serving/
Pizza place across street
doing great seeing people/
Hot won Ton/Hot Tea
hits the spot/
More of those white cardboard
pizza boxes being carried out
of pizza joint/
Lines of cars backed-up
on main street waiting for gas/
as I watch out of bay window
of restaurant/
Gas station just re-opened/
Pretty boy passes by distracted/
Shrimp Chow Mein/
2 kids bicycle by no school/
My friend in Yokohama would
think this a practice drill after
having lived through Atom bombs
earthquakes tsunamis and the like/
Fortune Cookie:
“The next call may not be the last call.”
WTF!?
Inscrutable/
Lovely Chinese waitress
you know the type slim young
Oriental exotic dressed in black
pants with ankle high suede boots
very alluring/
Cheap lunch/
Sit and drink my tea contemplating
my next move and the scene
outside that I will rejoin and return
to my re powered apartment/
To see and hear of hurricane
aftermath/
Waitress thanks me/
I leave.
©TPuma/MMXII
Saturday, October 27, 2012
IT's
It was there and now
it ain’t I thought I
needed it now I am
not sure if I don’t need
it why did it bother me
when it was gone and
now I don’t know
one way or the other
just that it ain’t here
nor there and I survived
and am ready to die
without it not because
it is not here or there
but because it did not
matter at all.
©TPuma/MMXII
Thursday, October 18, 2012
W
Worldly-wise he was until
he wasn’t any more he was
whacked by the whores of
wanton wars whose wares
are used to whack the
worldy-wise wise guys
that wonder like wandering
poets to ponder their wisdom
and write words of what they
saw and was and
where they wandered and
wondered with whores
in wars with wares that
wasted and wounded.
Why!?
©TPuma/MMXII
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
MOMA
The objects perplex.
The artist’s creative.
The piece in the corner,
Modern, all chrome, plastic
and fabric.
The Machine artful
and functional.
The maintenance man
takes the object and
continues to
vacuum the floor.
©TPuma/MMXII
(inspired by A.Giordano)
RICORDATE
I know I remember you now
you thought I forgot you
how could I forget you
I loved you did you love
me you and me as one
together in all things
places and emotions
you and me only the
two of us how could
I not remember how
could I forget the days
and nights and dark
and light in bars and
bedrooms and parks.
You and I.
©TPuma/MMXII
Sunday, October 14, 2012
UNTITLED
Sunrise hurts.
Dawn brings pain.
The light of dawn
binds me to the day.
I'd rather it blinded me
to the day.
My unconscious self
had me untangle
Christmas lights
all night.
TP
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Thursday, October 11, 2012
LIFE
I piss
i floss
i brush
i wash
5 cups of coffee.
I watch
i dress
i leave
i drive
10 miles to go.
I stop
i go
i listen
i rant
15 gallons of gas.
I work
i write
i commute
i compute
20 minute break.
I think
i feel
i dream
i awaken.
Repeat.
©TPuma/MMXII
LINDA
Linda has post-nasal-drip.
Linda’s step-mother had post-nasal-drip.
She said.
I nodded.
Linda needs a beer.
Linda’s an alcoholic.
She said.
I agreed.
Linda takes too many pills.
Linda’s always confused.
She said.
I shrugged.
Linda found her teeth.
Linda’s always losing them.
She said.
I laughed.
When Linda
visits and vents
in the 3rd person,
I smile,mostly.
©TPuma/MMXII
DREAM SEQUENCE (?)
It’s raining
or
I’m dreaming
or
it’s raining and
I’m dreaming
or
I’m dreaming of rain.
What does the poet know?
He must feel the dream
and the rain.
I awaken
and look out the window.
It is raining
or
did I dream I looked
out the window?
©TPuma/MMXII
Monday, October 8, 2012
COLUMBUS DAY
What to do today?
Oh, I know
I will take
a very small
wooden boat
and sail across
the Atlantic Ocean.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Monday, October 1, 2012
OCTOBER
I've been drinking Pinot Noir
all this dull afternoon.
Right now I cannot see too far,
writing a poem, "what rhymes with moon?"
OK, OK, I'm in-the-bag
tho’ my poetic skills still shine.
Now, I'm not one to brag,
but, my poems are "dressed to the nines."
Happily (?), I look to October days
and bid adieu to 3 quarters past.
Shorts and flops all put away
apparel takes on a new cast.
No, no, do not leave,
stay in my poetic high.
I write this crap, because I grieve,
my summer love has said good-bye.
(c)Tpuma/MMXII
all this dull afternoon.
Right now I cannot see too far,
writing a poem, "what rhymes with moon?"
OK, OK, I'm in-the-bag
tho’ my poetic skills still shine.
Now, I'm not one to brag,
but, my poems are "dressed to the nines."
Happily (?), I look to October days
and bid adieu to 3 quarters past.
Shorts and flops all put away
apparel takes on a new cast.
No, no, do not leave,
stay in my poetic high.
I write this crap, because I grieve,
my summer love has said good-bye.
(c)Tpuma/MMXII
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