“Your Poetry Sucks!” November 2018

New words for you. Thanks for reading me . . . if not here . . . at The Daily {W}rite. I'm experimenting a bit with form and structure. I'm working in a more theatrical style these days. Hope it works, but if it doesn't . . . I can learn. P.S. IF the picture is to small for you to read the poem, just "click" on the image and it will enlarge. {smiles} 

“Your Poetry Sucks!”

David snaps his head towards me,
“I didn’t say your poetry sucks!”

“Watch where you’re going!” I yell

a bit too loud but in my defense

he began to drift into opposing traffic.

“I just said, ‘I loved that new poem,

Machine Head—'” cut to:

 Machine Head
The marching machines,

the clacking, metal against metal

that study humdrum of grinding gears. 

They’ve tamed the lion

roaring at our brains;

the blood in our veins

drying up, reduced

to a muddy slosh

thick on our tongues.

We are ending where we began

we are tumbling like the rain that

once fell in democratic abundance

upon the shattered skulls of the dead
And all the while the machines rejoice;

they march and march and march on.

“. . . and I “liked” the other one—” Cut to:

Moon Powers
The best we can do is place the moon

firmly between the index finger and the thumb

Gently though. You don't want to crush the life

out of the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. 
Think of the whales and mereswine

and the surfers and shore bunnies,

the tall tales and sea shanties of sailors

and pirates that would cease to exist— Cut to car:

David: You can’t smash the moon with your fingers!

that is NOT realistic!

Woodie: Oh, really? And intelligent machines taking

over the world—?

David: HEY! (whispers) They’re already here.”

Woodie  11-o2-18, o9-16-17