Tuesday, May 23, 2017

Stone Soup Croutons, 5-22-17, Down from the Mountain

Stone Soup Croutons is a weekly poem I write using lines and impressions butchered picked up from poems overheard from Stone Soup's open mic readers and features. I figure out a title (and sometimes the rest of the poem) later. You can read the other ones I've done since 2015 here. I'm slowly approaching the end of year two!

Thanks to Toby Altman for featuring alongside his other poet friends in the Boston area. We had a strong list of features and a strong open mic. I hope it comes out in the poem I wrote.

Down from the Mountain

Why do we hold the pin
for x amount of angels
to dance on?

Place the pins
on their celestial domes.
Put the pressure on them.

Your hair will go white
waiting for gods
to pull their weight.

Those Angelic prigs
don't give a frig
unless ignored.

The divine hold out rings
hoping they'll be kissed,
gather like stars of a petting zoo.

God's country
of barren roads
is population you.

the symbol around
your neck worth as much
as your loyalty oath.

Novelty typewriter
chokes on your attempts
at new scripture.

Oedipus and the Sphinx
take a daily road trip
in rush hour traffic.

In a last minute hustle
they come up with
last minute riddles,

something to lose to
anything to change
the final destination.

Present day's
an epic poem
without the end.

We call the gods
by way of chain letter,
mail merge entire pantheons.

There's little worry
about holy wars
for your salvation.

Out of spite
we burn our fields
to starve us more.

If gods can either
ignore or destroy us,
we try to do better.

Torch the road behind us
and ride the sunset down
to where we can never go.

Thanks to Kirk for getting the open mic started. 

Special thanks to Kirk Etherton, Julia Carlson, Chris Fitzgerald, David Miller, Deborah Priestly, Nancy Messom, Devlin Cooper, Martha Boss, Erik Nelson, Milissa Silva, Toby Altman, Oni Buchanan, Jack Jung and Jon Woodward. 

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