Archive for November 2010
Dinner with dunces
right now the melting pot is boiling
the cream has become diluted
watered down on top
while the mixture at the bottom
full of rich colors and flavors
burns
the stirring and mixing has increased
only to the dismay of the powerful, but blander
flavors
causing tension to undiscerning palettes
the garlic, soy, and potato once diluted
with salt and sliced thin
have become the staple of the dish
while the spices, the fringe has been
forced to the back of the throat
It Is Forgetfulness
Right of perpetual ownership that non-memory
Nor its name by aspect of province seat.
She, a young person
When returning late from grammar school
I knew of the its
Death knew that
That One believed!
And that I am a person of energy?
If there is to the saying
By the people that brought the news
I must believe, without vacillating a point,
That my name is in the pupils.
If I Were In Charge of the World
If I were in charge of the world
I’d cancel school,
Older sisters,
Any kind of school work, and also mean moms.
If I were in charge of the world
There’d be nice sisters,
Higher allowances, and
Basketball baskets twelve-inches higher.
If I were in charge of the world
You wouldn’t have sadness,
You wouldn’t have bad times,
You wouldn’t have messiness,
Or “don’t hit your brother”
You wouldn’t even have brothers.
If I were in charge of the world
An ice-cream sundae would be for dinner
All movies would be scarier.
And a person who sometimes forgot to wash,
And sometimes forgot to shower
Would still be allow to be in charge of the world
By: Julia Guzman
(Adapted from “If I were in Charge of the world” by Judith Viorst)
Open Letter to the Perp
pssssssssssssssssssssst
we know who you are
we carry the sight of you
out of the corners of
eyes that no longer
stay still or sleep
we carry the putrid scent of you
between the thighs
you desecrated
in memories
we pulled it from the hearts of
our mothers
who used their own bodies
to shield our souls
from the
sight of your wreckage
we carry the knowledge
of your attempt
to sacrifice the sacred
and to profane the mother
herself
make no mistake
we still own the skin
we live in
you didnt win
we still stand
but we dont
stand alone
our own
stand with us
because
we have dropped this information
like a bomb
deep
into the hearts and souls
of our fathers
of our brothers
and we slammed it home
between the hips of
our lovers
(what did you think we were bereft of options)
pssssssssssssssssst
now THEY know
who YOU are
and wait
hungrily for your return
deep into the heart of the concrete jungle
they will sing our songs
they will celebrate us home
they will reclaim what you desecrated
and they will
bring you
what you
brought us
and then
we will
celebrate
our own
warriors
home
Julie McCurdy
Coyote University
. . . is completely contained in
this poem right here which
tells how anyone–yes, even you!–
may award themselves or another
a degree from C.U.: can the candidate
answer Yes to these three questions?:
One: Has the candidate, as a true
daughter or son of our revered founder,
Coyote The First,
stepped onto our world campus
overflowing with false assumptions?
Two: Has the candidate then
tripped over ignored vital facts
to pratfall alarmingly?
Three: Has the candidate then
wandered off wounded and dazed,
misunderstanding all that had passed?
There we are!
And there we are again!
If you’ve found you or yours
fully qualified to join us, then,
Welcome! and, Congratulations. . . .
Our self-awarded diplomas
are completely invisible and
perfectly suited for framing
behind glass that views closely
the wall immediately behind it.
poMotion poetry 