Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Sonnet 83 -- The Winter of Life

sinking underneath the gray of winter
dead grass and brown leaves blooming in my yard
i’ll never be a shakespeare or a pinter
to listen to my feeble voice is hard
without a house or child i cannot speak
to those who lived a life within the norm
i am not a hippie, baby, i’m a freak
remembering my life within the dorm
my breasts are not an aerial display
i joke they are a navel maneuver
but everything i need comes my way
no longer a shaker or a mover
calling us “old” is not pejorative
we joke “consider the alternative”

Monday, January 28, 2013

Yesterday, 88 High Street in East Rutherford, one person dead, 2 injured firemen. I lived there from 1983-1986 and left when my husband stopped throwing things out. Much of this fire is my papers that I had to leave behind. He had started to save every bottle can box and newspaper that came into the house and I knew I had to leave. His father passed away and he went to live in the Philadelphia house but paid the rent here. I feel very upset and slightly responsible but at least the papers are gone now and I'm sure the Hoarder will just cling closer to his empty boxes in his new home.

Sunday, January 27, 2013

Sonnet 82 - Act Our Age

All those things, all of those life or death things
That were going to make or break our lives
More than fifty years of up and down swings
No more important than a case of hives
Life will not be a million dollars
Or the great orgasmic love of our life
We’re cooks and cleaners and garbage haulers
Who pray that the bills don’t cause us more strife
But why not enjoy the end of the race
And leave the madness to younger hotties
Accept the sags and wrinkles of our face
And don’t spend money on botox bodies
If we don’t enjoy what we still can do
We will be failures when the ride is through

Saturday, January 26, 2013

Bits and Pieces

All those things, all of those life or death things
That were going to make or break our lives
More than fifty years of up and down swings
No more important than a case of hives
He doesn’t shock me
any more
I guess
I understand

Bad decisions made
Somehow I survived alive
My own enemy

Blam! Flat on my back in reality
There is nothing left of Dorothy’s farm

Sunday, January 20, 2013

Sonnet 81-- A Hopeless and Silent Jail

we are addicted to daydreams, i fear
seeking the breathless thrill of forbidden
yet no living being must come too near
invade the spot where our hearts are hidden
all of our lives pale without fantasy
no voice in reality can compare
warm flesh no longer provides ecstasy
imperfect humanness causes despair
it is now too late to begin again
fantasy lovers are only for sale
our days are ended as women and men
accept real humans or surely fail
the same for both the woman and the male
alone in a hopeless and silent jail

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Three Haiku is Better than Two

linkedin goes the way
of my space and pinterest
is not far behind

philosophers know
how to 
but we must do it

waiting game all day
meds and nurse later
trapped by facebook and tv

Monday, January 14, 2013

Getting Hooked on Free Verse

four years old, my first crush on Roy Rogers
zoned out of my mother’s world of spankings
screams and Marlboros…dreaming ever since
first experience in love was a rape
married twice, fantasizing ideal men
paid their bills as they strayed to “better” chicks
left them both, turning daydreams into scripts
but again, my mind was thinking of men
the brave cowboy knight in shining armor
but now, i am not the girl they dream of
fed by the internet pornography
they can have all the high maintenance
obedient youngsters they desire
sans spending a cent or feeling a thing
i try not to feel abandoned alone
at least all of my scant money is mine
and my wit and friendships are still intact
reality sometimes seems a bit dull
and Trigger is stuffed in a museum

Random Bits

1. Free Verse
our pasts are riddled with painful mistakes
driven by anger and raging hormones
we cannonballed into love with a whoop
then slithered away in the dead of night
wounded children thrown into Woodstock’s fires
raised via improvisation by folks
who were not quite sure where babies came from
but if at least we can look back in shock
and trace the scars of brutal lessons learned
and no longer have anger at ourselves

2. Random Haiku
I have a million words
And not one of them
Will comfort your mind

Saturday, January 12, 2013

Sonnet 80 -- Been There, Done That

Sonnet 80 -- Been There, Done That

Don’t doubt I know of all my great sweet luck
Income and insurance make El Dorado
About survival I don’t give a fuck
I know that Granny won’t win the Lotto
Looking back, I see a path full of mud
My slogging footsteps lead up to this point
Measured in tears and lost menstrual blood
Oh, forgive me for TMI, my Dear
But now my mantra is: Avoid Pitfalls
Old Women need not be sad and lonely
To concentrate on daily shit balls
And cling to life as we get more homely
This is the way life is supposed to be
Not trying to be young at sixty-three

Friday, January 11, 2013

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Sonnet 79 -- If Truth Be Told

Sonnet 79 -- If Truth Be Told
Sickly and weak right now, yes, even old
The recovery proceeds too slowly
I lack the vigor to be strong or bold
Start to think about Death and the Holy
Can an ugly woman create beauty
Never a decorative sex doll
I was always forced to do my duty
Obedient when loser men would call
Forgive me for resisting Facebook memes
But I’ve lost the fight for love or success
No more energy for aborted dreams
My boobs have dropped and my skin is a mess
I don’t know if to live or embrace death
Just hope I’m smiling to take my last breath

Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Sonnet 78--A Bad Week to be Growing Old

Sonnet 78--A Bad Week to be Growing Old
I want what I want right now, but I can’t
Step into old age, and do it alone
But I’ve learned that there’s no point in a rant
Even bad health doesn’t merit a moan
I’m trying to be the strongest and best
My sags and my wrinkles make me less dear
Of the standards of life, I failed the test
No mortgage or kids to keep a man near
And yet I have had the greatest of luck
An income and meds to keep me alive
Why still pursue love and the magic fuck
There comes a time to stop buying that jive
So put up with me in these weakest weeks
Give thanks I don’t speak of bowels and leaks

Saturday, January 5, 2013

Sonnett 77 -- 2013 Grinds to a Start

The emptiness you feel when it’s over
Is why you let it fester far too long
In daydreams you rolled around in clover
You adored her like a lovesick King Kong
Wet dreams don’t allow for sags and wrinkles
The other doesn’t mind our hair is white
Sounds of Mozart music when she tinkles
And I imagined he would be my Knight
None of it grounded in reality
Menopause and illness curses me
Methinks My Lord is losing sanity
We fold the tent and into darkness flee
All that matters now is bare survival
Too late for Art or Love’s sweet revival