Stone Soup Croutons, 7-13-22: New World Brochure

Stone Soup Croutons is a weekly poem I write using lines and impressions picked 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.

Thank you, Garage Poets, for putting on such a great set and providing us with video footage. Our video was lacking because I'm still figuring things out. At least I preserved the open mic. Between the footage from both, we have the poem for this week.

I appreciate the subversive verses of the feature coupled with the moments of beauty and sass on the open mic. Always makes for an interesting mixture to mold. Thanks for reading.

New World Brochure

Die homeless or 

stuck in nursing home.

Possibilities endless.

Field mouse swooped

away or snake dining

last meal of tail.

Another Joe Biden Falling Poem! Am I the Media Now?

 

 

After The New Verse News published my Joe Biden falling poem based on a William Carlos Williams poem, David Miller made a joke reference to Frank O'Hara's Lana Turner poem. After that, I couldn't help it. All thanks and blame go to him.

 

Poem

Joseph Biden has collapsed!

We wire singing songs of unity

insurrectionists were planning

NaPoWriMo, Day Seventeen, Poem Seven

My attempt at a pantoum.

This was published a while back, and it will be published again.  More later.

NaPoWriMo, Day Seven, Poem Four

Sonnet

The kitchen sighs relief for lack of use
just as the fridge begins its cradling
of food we overordered in our use
of eyes too hungry for light ladling.

And here is our reward for the noisy day.
Our respite from the scavenging around.
Now, even all the wind appears at bay
to help ensure we will not leave this ground.

The Southie streets had parted to let by
your tapped out feet, the bags I carry on.
We can pretend to be the reason why
tonight there's no unsettling of dawn.

Our clothes and arms hang loosely on our waists
but hands still settle into bedtime braced.

NaPoWriMo, Day Six, Poem Three

Poem

I don't celebrate victories.
Someone might hear,
and Big Brother
has an open mic.

Everyone wants
to be the tattler,
empathy retooled
to find an easy target.

 They point out
imagined blemishes
on your face with
fry-greased fingers.

You can't win
for acquiescing,
can't mind business
 for land mines.

Eye for an eye
is compromise.
Cries for help
are closure.

And yes I had
a winning moment
Or at least one
where I was noticed,

My name suffers
suffixes such as
;oscopy, ;ectomy,
'geddon and 'cide.

Were you
really asking
or just reporting
from the front?

NaPoWriMo, Day Four, Poem Two

Update: See the Reworked final version, "Smokey's Pace," in Tell-Tale Inklings #2.

30 Questions/30 Days, Day 2

For this month, the questions are going to bounce from serious to silly to surreal. This question comes from Rosa Nagle:

"Why is there a new fascination with rednecks on tv? There's the show 'Swamp People', and 'Duck Dynasty', and 'Moonshiners', etc"

 I'm reminded of a quote from  Eric Bogosian's Talk Radio (the play definitely, the movie I'm not sure about):

Marvelous technology is at our disposal and instead of reaching up for new heights, we try to see how far down we can go...how deep into the muck we can immerse ourselves!

That was back in the 80's. I think we do that now especially with reality TV, but it's laid bare that when viewers want to get in the muck, we always need to make sure someone's in their deeper than us so we can mock them while forgetting about whatever muck we see on our faces.  When America is recovering from a recession, it makes sense that TV networks decide to show the country the poorest of the poor to make viewers feel better.  I think only those in huge denial can make claims that you can learn something about human nature and communication through these shows.  Anyhoo...Why rednecks?  Because they are poor and white, and they're easier to take advantage of.  If there was a surge of shows on poor African Americans, it would be easy (and likely correct) to make accusations of racism and let the show die a quick, merciful death.  When white corporate America picks on poorer whites, it's harder to take a show off the air due to classism.

And now, a poem (I might not do this every day) I thought of thinking of the town I was born in and how its poverty was the subject of media attention recently.

Future Scenes on Reality TV

Debuting "Boom and Bust" on A&E TV
puts Woonsocket speech patterns on map,
a "Throw me down the stairs the keys" T-shirt
is seen on Snooki via the OMG! page on Yahoo!

“Yes! We take Food Stamps, SNAP, EBT!”
is now the most famous sign in Woonsocket,
as it begins the show's opening credits.

Miguel's meat market is the place to be seen
on days other than the first of the month.
But he is unprepared.  The camera shows
his employees have been under the table for years.

The show makes suggestions.  Hire Jourie
who the cameras have been following since
episode one, their duct-taped refrigerator

a subject of concern since episode three,
still able to hold the extra milk and butter
form the apartment next door,  left open
by his neighbors, skipping out on two months rent.


My mom has a cameo in season two.  A landlord
forced to wipe her floors clean at sixty five to save money.

NaPoWriMo, Day Two, Poem One

Tretina

My life will never be an open mic,
standing up, being seen to be seen,
standing up, mispronouncing next up's name.

Will anyone remember my name
when it's not repeated on a mic
over and over again, soon not even seen

scrabbled in pain, my pen chewing scene,
handwriting louder than voice on mic,
you already can't hear me say hi, my name,

the mic says to the scene, is no name.

Poem to Accompany My Answer to Question One for 30 Questions/30 Days

For Donna Woods, aping the style of Valerie Loveland.  

Do Pug Pups Dream of More Human Feet?


When dogs say their owners
serve food underhanded,
it's always an insult.
Also, they're dreaming.
 
Smokey, inky grunting beast,
longs for promotion to predator,
needs an edge to make up
for loss of teeth under
an elongated tongue.

Height can be overcome
with climbing, and a frame
built to be wrapped
around small trees.

Cat claws can hang in there
but thumbs you can scale.
Birds fly miles above,
but you only need  6 feet up
to point and aim.

In REM, dogs play
the begging game
for the last time,
take hold of treat doling hand
and bring it behind
their master's back,
till the taunting head
hits a cold, drab bowl of grey.

Owners mistake whining
for victory cries,
dancing on stronger toes.

Unsent Limerick Submissions to Last Week's Salon Limerick Contest

Computer crash stopped me.  At least they have a home here.


Ten years since the last Iraq war?
We don't worry about that no more.
Between use of drones
and less deaths of our own
the Middle East news almost bores.


Arizona shows disdain for you
transgenders for using the loo.
Yet to stake out bidets
for T.G's sound ghey,
but hate's faulty logic's not new.

My Rejected Limerick Submissions to Salon.com, 3/15/13

 I'll try to get these up earlier in the week, as I plan to send many more.


The Catholic Church smoke blew away

revealing same pope different day.

with more homilies

about families

and outrage if kids grow up gay.

I'll start posting these every Monday post-rejection.

The problem with limericks on Pope

is using same rhyme words with "Pope."

"Hope" yadda yadda

equals "Nope" nada

the Salon editors cannot cope.

Dick Cheney's self review is like

Sinatra singing "My Way" on mic.

He's his own rat pack you see

just singing with glee

before shooting Sammy in face.

My 2009 March Haiku is Relevant Today

In like a lion,
out like a lamb that's being
CHASED BY A LION!!!

My Rejected Limerick Submission to Salon

Check out the winners here.

North Korea now threatens with glee.

Kim's new BFF asks, was it me?

Rodman IM's his pal

saying, "Dude, what the hell?"

The response is "LOL OMG."

 

 

This Limerick Didn't Make It to Salon This Week, But I Liked It

Was anyone hanging their hope
 on this soon-to-be exiting pope?
 Old pics of the panzer
 all give us the answer:
 A sigh-less and emphasized "Nope."

New Poem at Oddball Magazine

Check out  my poem "Alpha Jesus" with artwork once again by T.J. Edson.

Consider submitting to Jason Wright's online forum.

My Salon.com Runners-Up For The Limerick Contest

Thanks to everyone who visited my websites via the link on Salon.com with the limerick of mine they selected.  Below are two others I wrote on the recent debate.  They were submitted but not selected.  I jokingly call them runners up, though I have no idea if they placed at all.

Mitt's bayonet ended up stuck

in his horse that too suddenly ducked.

In his haste to go step in

Romney brought the wrong weapons

and the navy is now out of luck.

The tactic of both campaign teams

was “Go for an internet meme!”

With women in binders

and bayonet riders,

the YouTubers give this race steam.

 

 

It's Over...Let's Celebrate!

My semi-annual linking (sometimes I forget) of my favorite end of summer poem, "Bye to Summer."

I'm One of Salon's Limerick Contest Winners!

Cool!

NaPoWriMo, Day Thirty One, Poem Thirty One

30/30 Fail Haiku

Failure, failure and
failure, failure, failure, and
add twenty five more.

NaPoWriMo, Day Thirty One, Poem Thirty

Poem

Wail or well
the hardest
lesson
to learn.

The more
cast off
the more loved
you are.

You've never
believed
last words
less than now.