songanddancegirl

ALL THE LONELY

ALL  THE  LONELY   CHILDREN   WHERE DO THEY ALL BELONG ?

25 yr. old Drummer Rigby is famous

this week    His 2 yr. old son Jack is      well known

On a street in Woolwich   he was

fatally stabbed  by a man wielding a

large butcher knife    His hand covered in

Lee Rigby’s red blood   The headline

posed the question:  But is it Terrorism ?

Listen  terrorism exists inside of bungalows

Up there in high rises    even in churches

I have met too many young victims of

mothers&fathers&step-uncles&brothers      &aunts&grandmothers

to not know the answer to this question

Terrorism exists in the microcosm  its cells

multiplying in plain sight   You just have to know        which doorbell to ring

and then go ring it    in broad day light

__

*according to the BBC thousands of children in Africa

are abandoned, tortured, and murdered, for being witches

*in the U.S. close to 2000 children die each year as a result

of abuse

Spring  2013

SHINE

YOU  CAN’T  SHINE      RICHARD  BUCKNER’S      SHOES

Last night  a hulking man  with long hair  & sweet grin

The voice of an Archangel    lyrics akin   to Walt  Whitman

Was largely ignored by the  RobFord  crowd    at the Horseshoe

About 50 civilized souls circled around    the Alt-Folkie  and

beat back the rednecks with disgusted pleas     What it all means ?

These base people deserve Rob Ford   are Rob Ford  need Rob Ford

to make them look better     than they are

__

*sharks & humans have a lot in common  

they will both eat anything  in order to survive

Spring  2013

MUSE

MUSE  TAKES  A  JOB  AT        CNN

Muse lies about    lethargy came on

suddenly    Mrs. Soprano lay in bed       for days

my brother said    We wondered if it

was   stress or   mafioso overload

Could Muse be on a burnout baby ?

Do muses have a shelf-life   a lifespan

a best before ?     Or   is she simply

disgusted with my daily begging her      for  more more more

Clearly she is power hungry   making me

grovel     Hobbling me  with her selfish

refusal to be my    sweet  word-whore

__

Spring  2013

ROUGH TRADE

ROUGH   TRADETTE     ON  WEST  QUEEN  WEST

A lot of spills lately   Beet juice

cascades down my legs  looks like

vampires lunched   Peach purse       now  to die for  ruby

Paul Newman Caesar  smashes

in aisle 8   I walk slowly away  as       oil slick

stains   beige patent leather

But she is near perfect  old lace scarf

haphazardly placed   Perfect diamonds       perfect face

Peachy   sprinkled with pale freckles           fuchsia lip

Lipstick stays in place as               baguette dismembered

Young husband  bland as can be

When she drops something  she

does it   oh so carefully

But her voice  rough around the edges            screams    G.F.E.

And it finally dawns on me   that freebies      maybe      overrated

__

*G.F.E.  girlfriend experience 

a form of prostitution includes 

french kissing, hugging, talking, and

eating a meal together

Spring   2013

GOD WON’T

GOD  WON’T  DO  THIS      TO  ME

Last night I was haunted by my

dead cousin     3 yrs. ago today

I stood at the bed where she lay        ravaged by lung cancer

I just stopped smoking yesterday

she said  through terror stricken gasps

I looked behind the bed  and found the plug       un- plugged 

There was little oxygen flowing at St. Joe’s     that day

I heard her beg for her life

But the doctor was contrite:

There’s tumor  everywhere  

He tried to let her down gently:

I’ll see if I can free the lung   the

one   that has not  collapsed

But alas she was dead before the

setting sun cast  a long shadow

Strange how we hadn’t seen each

other in 30 yrs.   And there I was

gazing at her   blue feet & grey tears

__

Spring  2010

PLANET EARTH

PLANET  EARTH        IS  BLUE

After his moonwalk   Buzz spoke about

the  melancholy of things done   Then he

sold Cadillacs   battled depression    &        alcoholism

Maybe it all began with Buzz  and the race

for space    Treadmarks on earth’s ghostly

twin    Time sped up    Now we’re 13 yrs.       into   the new millennium

There is still Good & Evil  but it’s getting

harder  to tell them apart       Mayor  masquerades

as magistrate    Prime Minister   morphs into fraudster ?

Perhaps he will soon sell Dodges

I maintain that it all started with      the Moon

more desolation

more fervour

more doom

__

I don’t think I’m going to feel the way that Buzz did

*Chris Hadfield   Canada’s Bowie

Spring  2013

DARKLING

DARKLING  DEAREST

black eyes  pig tails

if there was only

green left i’d miss pink

little darkling

the weight

of your fate

hangs  heavy

the loudest slap

you’ve ever heard

rings out

nonno’s handprint on your cheek

much louder than

mommy’s slaps

and much harder

the snowflakes are

raging against

your captivity              little darkling

i get it !  nonno

taught mommy

to hit   and now

they’re teaching   me

__

Winter   2010

WHAT IF

WHAT  IF  PINK     RUNS  OUT ?

Girls with pink hats & matching coats

approach me  each time I walk into the       store

Gliding blandness   evil Olsen-twin sneers

They never say a word just eye me quizzically

Last night as they approached   I could barely

breathe   What can this dream possibly mean ?

Are these nameless  faceless Pinkettes  a divine      sign ?

Will this be my fate  should I take a job at a store

named after a french rat ?  Always hard to know

Yet that shade of pink calls out tantalizingly            Poet   Poet    climb aboard !

__

Spring  2013

HEY BLUE

HEY      BLUE CANADIAN

Hard to believe Spring is so        deeply

embedded    You get  used to

darkness   and to ice   You fight

the transformation   Depression    sets in

Rigor mortis in your pockets

You may walk into the river   Ouse

Man on motorcycle blaring Mick

curses me   deservedly    I do not      saunter    only plod

Every Spring this woman calls me

talks too long  asks too many questions

May I bring you groceries ?   Can the

seasons transform backwards     please

It’s far too light    and green         Talk to me

__

Spring  2013

GLASNOST

GLAS     NOST

A woman sits down

& imposes herself on me :    I love your redhair

Are you writing poetry 

Or  a real story ?    I remain   Canadian    polite  

She is Russian  & her name is        Rose

She finds the coincidence :

Spring (me)  &  flower  (her)  

brings us   closer 

All my friends have the names of flowers   One is Winter !

Her son  one of 6    writes poetry

But guess what he does for a living       *guess ?

Poet-nerves now jangled

Write something great  really great       Rose implores   her eyes filling with tears

Portent  or lament ?   Canadian poet

reeks of nice  needs more steel in veins      & new haircolour

Excuse me !    Sleek man in perfect black

shoes alights   from perfect black car      Is that Cherry Red ?

I say nothing   I promise nothing    as he lifts me from my chair

__

*(accountant)

Spring  2013