Stone Soup Croutons is a weekly poem I write using lines and impressions selected from Stone Soup Poetry'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 also have a book collecting the best of my first year of poems. Click here to purchase it.
In some respects, the open mic is getting as wild and unpredictable as the times, but in a positive way.
This poem might be seen as a little more positive if only because I had more fun writing it.
Thanks for reading.
Act at Last
LA is burning! Hold on to your
loved ones while Grace and Mercy
fight to keep their senate seats!
Invest in a Grecian urn! Find
a place where winter is still legal!
Which green carrying case for
your urn reminds you of lost
world? One or two...One or two...
Smoke self on a cold beach as
interns play volleyball with your
paychecks, which always get lost.
Dream of resting self in on old
bookshelf, with the last mug
of coffee you remember tasting.
Family smugly searches wreckage.
They knew you'd end up on streets
or in foreign land, suffering policy.
Some place where the moon rains
down glass shards Too bad. Oh well.
Elsewhere, left handedness banned.
Therefore exempt from backdoor
handshakes, whispers you can't year
like leaves scrapping stone stairs.
It's snow uphill both ways right now.
You don't need binoculars for the back
of your head to know they have a bead.
Hide with the turtles. Train enough to
toss a library on a tyrant. Stone, the one
toss a library on a tyrant. Stone, the one
trial he is powerless to wave away!
Special thanks to Jackie Chou, Nike Truth, Bil Lewis, Jan Rowe, Richard Spisak, Ari Whipple, Mary Ann Honaker, Robert Fleming, Jeff Taylor, Jon Wesick, Julian Matthews, Edward S. Gault and James Van Looy.
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