Open Mic at Words and Feathers

I am participating at the open mic at Words and Feathers with my poem “Auto”.

This is unusual for two reasons:

  1. It’s the first time my flat Dublin accent (filtered through a number of years in western Canada) has been heard in a recording. I apologise for any suffering this may cause.
  2. For those soccer/football fans out there (Mr. Zoolonaudio), it’s probably the only poem written that name checks a member of Manchester City’s porous defence.

Check it out plus the other good stuff at Words and Feathers.

Stilt Walker / Between (Song Without a Chorus)

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Between (Song Without a Chorus)

Between the caucus and the carcass

Between the chaos and the calm

Between the fracas and the ruckus

Between the righteous and the damned

 

Between the priest and the sermon

Between the sermon and the song

No one can determine

Why we all can’t get along.

 

Between the question and the answer

There is a lifetime of space

Between the dance and the dancer

There is beauty and there is grace.

 

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Steve Bannon’s Eyes

 

look like

portals to

 

hell.

Rust/ The Irish Dilemma/ Radiohead

Rust

 

The Irish Dilemma (a slimverse)

we can not

decide if

we are blessed

or damaged.

 

Radiohead (a triku)

The night howls, fog curls

a thin cloud bisects the moon

at the graveyards’ edge

 

an abandoned well

from the bottom of that well

Thom Yorke cries for help.

 

The dead wake slowly

grey fists punch through mounds of earth

Thom Yorke cries for help.

 

American Carnage

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American Carnage

Not the export it used to be,

nothing like the glory days

Hiroshima, Vietnam, Cambodia;

still popular at home tho’

nearly twelve thousand gun deaths a year

the gun barrel points both ways.

This is not much of a poem, is it?

That last metaphor was a bit clumsy

and there’s no music in statistics

but there is a rhyme in that last line

and there’s assonance in ‘American Carnage’

and there is an ass in the White House

but enough about that

stay away from the low hanging fruit

we need a rhyme

carnage, baggage, garbage, image

imagine all the people

that’s what this situation needs

a protest singer, a protest song

three chords and a chorus

that we can sway and link arms to

Where are you

Josh (Ritter)

Michael (Stipe)

Bruce ?

For John D. (a Poem and a Deconstruction)

 

For John D.

fecund, moribund, quincunx

fecund moribundity

moribund fecundity

rhizome, rissole, piss-hole in the snow

phenom, pheromone, genome

lissom, blossom, possum.

 

This poem is all about sound, association and perhaps, memory. The first three lines are an homage to the sound of ‘un’. The phrase -“fecund moribundity, moribund fecundity” –  was uttered by my friend, John Damery (John D.) during a discussion about the music of Neil Diamond – his oeuvre, his place in the pantheon. This was some time ago but it has always stuck in my head, it has a brevity and clarity  that could only have been brought on by the consumption of 5 or 6 pints and the ingestion of greasy chicken. After a long legal battle (not really) he has recently granted me permission to use  it in a poem.

The fourth line is the workhorse of the poem, the engine, the poem’s midfield general. It inverts the ‘mo’ from the first 3 lines to create the ‘om’ that dominates the last two lines. it also introduces ‘iss’ which makes an appearance in the last line. As for “piss-hole in the snow”, I defy anyone to find a finer example of bathos . The fifth line is all about ‘om” but note the clever inversion back to ‘mo’ in ‘pheromone’.

The sixth and last line has a slick softness to it like blancmange. As promised the ‘iss’ from ‘rissole’ and ‘piss-hole’ makes an appearance  before morphing into ‘oss’ and in a final stroke of nothing that remotely approaches genius, the transformation of ‘om’ into ‘um’.

Notes:

quincunx (a word that flirts with obscenity):

an arrangement of five objects with four at the corners of a square or rectangle and the fifth at its centre, used for the five on dice or playing cards, and in planting trees.

rhizome:

a continuously growing horizontal underground stem that puts out lateral shoots and adventitious roots at intervals.

Both words were used in an article in the Irish Times on the poetry of Seamus Heaney, sent to me by John D; ‘Cartesian dualism’ and ‘Binarism’ were also mentioned (and Jesus wept).

rissole:

a compressed mixture of meat and spices, coated in breadcrumbs and fried.

My mom used to make them, although I remember them as being more like a hamburger patty without the bun…thanks, mom!

Photo: English Bay, Vancouver, A-MAZE-ING LAUGHTER, by Yue Minjun.

 

 

The Best of Slimverse, 2016

When 2016 began, slimverse was an obscure 12 syllable (3-3-3-3) verse form, standing in the shadow of its older sibling, the seventeen syllable (5-7-5) haiku and now that 2016 is being carried, battered and bruised, out of the building, slimverse is an obscure 12 syllable (3-3-3-3) verse form, standing in the shadow of its older sibling, the seventeen syllable (5-7-5) haiku. This is a collection of the best of 2016, compiled by Slim and I in the early hours of the morning following “the Poet’s Circle” Christmas Party which was held at the Accomplished Poet’s house.  It was a fun-filled night of poetic over-indulgence and excess. The Accomplished Poet read a poem about pruning as a metaphor for the editing process involved in writing  a poem, it was tortuous but accomplished. The Upper Case Poet had a minor shoving match with our newest and youngest member, who edits an edgy E-zine called “Capslock Off” – no prizes for guessing what the argument was about. Slim hung around the buffet all night like a dog that had come across a bag of pork chops while walking in the woods, then later insisted that he had an invented a new word : “tumultaneous” – when tumultuous events occur simultaneously. He was met with benign indifference.

Here’s the List:

Bison

Like an old

Christian

Brother, an

unkempt monk.

***

Golf

 the one sport

that demands

blandness from

its heroes.

***

The Stack (remix)

And what a

beautiful

plume we have

here, Nigel,

 

a plume with

time on its

hands, look at

it loping

 

across the

sky like a

giant Chinese

dragon, let’s

 

hail a cab

to find the

plume’s end, where

the last wisps

 

of vapor

drift upwards

and a blue

mist hangs, yes,

 

there it is

in the sky

to the west

stalking the

 

cars in the

parking lot

outside the

big box mall

 

while the sun

bawls and the

sky gets all

indignant.

 ***

Holy Scripture

when asked to

pick a font

he replied:

baptismal.

***

And No Tom

 Danger Mouse

Modest Mouse

DeadMau5. It’s

all Jerry…….

***

Vancouver Jazz Festival (Re-Mix)

 a humid

lion house

hogo hangs

on the air

 

dogs and trees

dogs and trees

free jazz, jazz

for free, the

 

bass player

leans like a

drunk around

a lamp post.

 ***

Names 

those that can

stand alone

those that can’t

hyphenate.

 ***

Old Cowboy

bowed legs

straddling a

ghost horse, beef

jerky thin

 

Holiday

Inn, buffet

breakfast, far

from the range.

***

When the Twittering Stops

it’s all fun

and games ’til

the body

bags come home.

 

***

On Hearing that Justin Trudeau had approved the Kinder Morgan Pipeline

there are 3

certainties

death, taxes,

corrosion.

 

Photo: Cranberriment

 

 

Melons

Melons

When asked if the melon is ripe

The girl behind the counter at the Chinese-Canadian Deli

Sniffs the pale green globe, shakes her head

And pointing to a small beige circle, says:

 

This is the melon’s bottom

The melon is ripe,

When the bottom smells sweet.

 

While outside,

The Christmas traffic

Stalls on Dunbar Street.

 

Photo: Sitting on the Fence (2)

Autumn (2 haikus)

   Autumn 

I

a clear day in fall

a call from the governor

a pardon granted.

 

II

trees leaking colour

like a paint store catalogue

et tu, chlorophyll?

 

This poem has formed and re-formed since I started this blog, I think this is the last re-incarnation.

 

Photo: Chlorophyll molecule (Chlorophyll-a-3D-vdw, licensed under public domain)

Sunrise on Planet Cistern

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sunrise-3-5

 

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While you’re here, check out “The Mitchell Feeney Project, country rock with an edge!

“The sun beats down like judgement

on the armour-plated road”

From “The Road” by The Mitchell Feeney Project.  Click here to check out our album, also available on iTunes (search for “The Mitchell Feeney Project”).

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Driving Home with Leonard Cohen

Driving Home with Leonard Cohen

Despite what he says

not everybody knows,

not everybody knows

like Leonard knows.

Not everybody knows

that the best songs

are about loss,

endings,

so long,

ways to say goodbye

closing time,

and that age

can be laughed about

but not at,

if I had a hat

I would raise it to Mr.Cohen

perched up there alone

in his ancient tower.

 

I have posted this a few times before, but I think it’s worth one last reprise!

POTUS

potus

poultice

poultry

poetry

podcast

pomegranate

pornography

porridge

pork

only

one

of

the

above

is

a

lethal

weapon

when

given

to

a

fool

 

Thought I’d reprise this one on this sad day.