Poetry: Deep Cuts


I’ve noticed within you
dormant dark ironic
meanness which,
aroused by stress,
fueled with fear,
ushers in you a strife
emblazoned with virulent rancor,
etched with vitriol and venomous
words more harmful than
some source
of your frantic painful sputum.

You strike
like a cornered dog
or captured snake seeking vengeance
without sense of reason, cause, or goal,

neither coherent illumination nor purpose
tempers or dulls your slashing fangs.

Let lost conscience be not your guide,
nor grief and guilt become your
warrant.

Count to ten. Then count again.
Nothing can be unsaid,
unheard, or unfelt.


Look both ways when emotions rise.
Seek the mindful gaps of calmness and search for love.

Poetry: Back in the Day


House lights were off, back in the day.
A tinted eerie black and white glare,
as the boob-tube illuminated
white nicotine-laced clouds,
cigarette smoke from lit ends of
Camels or Pall Malls, unfiltered butts crowded
many ashtrays, back in the day.

Like ghosts sucked into dying lungs
of people I loved,
alive, back in the day.

The smelly, wispy, floating clouds
rolled and twisted or waved
as we passed through,
back in the day.

Forbidden addictions, I then, not yet
old enough to kill myself,
back in the day.

Second hand was for used,
not smoke.
Sickening smokers,
plus all who breathed in,
nicotine laced habits, back in the day.

Born into our rite of passage.
Now sick and dying, smoking goes on.

Never allow science to invade
personal stupidity.
We’ve always done it this way.
Back in the day.


Look both ways but stay away from back in the day.
Discover progress through science but mind the gaps to fill as we learn.

Sammie’s Weekender #148: Somnambulist


Acrostic Sleepwalker

Secrets we’ve never been told
Oceans nature never fully filled
Memories of loving happiness in eyes of laughter
Nights kissing when we’re young together
Amour aplenty to fill our hearts with passion.
Mysteries make us wonder why
Bodies, then so young and strong, a
Universe without chaos, and a cosmos within us
Lasting love that never leaves us
Innocent children who needlessly die, while
Some just pray and wonder why.
Time to take the dance into the street.


In the street, look both ways and be aware, or woke, as they say.
Mind the gaps as hidden happiness and sadness.

Poetry: Pluvio Penchant

What is all I love about rain?
It’s raining now.

It’s not the same as how we feel
good
on warm sunny days.

I’m happy and cheerful—

I like it cold, not frozen,
more of a dry,
on the rocks,
with salt, kind-a guy.

But wet and cold?
I love my friends
but that gets old.
And they don’t mix well.

On cloudy rainy days
no thunder do I favor,
lightening to be avoided.

Pluvio-happiness is
meditative bliss—
a sense of comfort,
of peace
when rains purge-clean
the air.

I’d dance in the rain,
some warm summer day
just to sweeten my life.

I like the sun, but it’s true,
rain is also fun.

Look both ways on rainy days. Mind the gaps for sweet variety.

Sammi’s Weekender – Perplex


I’ve always been able to do this.
To respond
with words; to write a poem,
a story in prose,
this word has perplexed me.

Maybe I’ve lost my touch,
my muse disabled, my ability to compose
lost in some monochrome
of muted confusion.

The weekend, gone in two hours
with creative potential left
to wallow
and embarrass my ass,
unable to complexify or sophisticate

Words with characteristic poetic aplomb,
to roll out enough dribble
to meet the challenge of lettering
up something good enough.

Confused by wordly entanglement,
it’s bewildering.


Looking both ways is not always the answer.
Mind the gaps and write away.

Poetry: Work through it

Work through it, he said,
more pain is good gain.
Can you go farther?
(implying the pain
I should endure)
To do more?
Through it, he said. I asked.

“I understand, Doc,
but do you?” Push
through — more pain—
limping, then numbness
and excruciating
pain, then physical collapse.
The pain.

Then I sense some gain.
Then more. Must I now confess
at the end of the battle?
Doc, you were right.
Muscles are tight
and sore as hell,
with pain and cramps,
but improvement costs,
some weight’s been tossed.

Should I go on, and on?

Pain goes both ways, some is beneficial, some is a warning to stop.
I Listen to, and learn, my body. I mind the gaps to learn the differences.