songanddancegirl

there’s no place like home

the sky is growing dorothy  as 2 girls with a 3 legged dog   (seriously)

cackle in the galeforce breeze  one lamenting they just raised

her dose of medication

i wonder if she is from the asylum next door  they changed

the street number from 999 to 666  years ago  to appease

our dark lord

beats the  bughouse looneybin ship of fools  from days of yore

this is not a PC poem   cackles getting louder  as girl peels off

her jeans

legs akimbo

she takes a jaded

crucifix  from her purse

u know what happens now  linda blair blares  let jesus fuck me

(hey  i didn’t write the script)

but our heroine more demur  lilts quietly  as i jig   today a woman

told me  her mother is on life support  +asked if her down’s syndrome

sister  should be taken to the bedside

horrified  i instantly regretted admitting i am a therapist  now raped

by her trauma  i bolt the door  longing for  just a smudge of sanity

ashwednesday emblazoned  on my  stress crushed physiognomy

i’d go home  if home wasn’t renovated to smithereens  by the petit

bourgeoisie   FREE   the ghosts of 52 Purdon please  chained in

servitude  to our happyshiny dreams

__

..the way ahead may be found in suffering. There is no cure,

for life is not a disease, nor death a punishment..

(James Hollis Jungian Analyst: The Middle Passage 1993) 

Fall 2022   ..let my people go..

the HEAVIEST BOOK in the world

delivered to me on Saturday  by my scoliotic brother

Harmski   no!  it ain’t the bible  it’s the Taschen Kahlo

tome   weighs more than me  soaking wet

yet i accepted it gracefully  a thing of great beauty

it remains on my arthritic knee  as i remain on the

couch  in it’s thrall

unable to slipslide from underneath  the great weight

of Trotsky  Rivera  +Picasso  of Frida’s smashed body

gangrenous leg  amputated at the knee  of her impaled womb   tomb

there is so much gold leaf  i may sell it on the blackmarket

raise enough pesos to escape the bonds of my servitude to  decrepitude

but Frida’s eyes implore me

bore into my soulhole   Apesie u walk on 2 legs  drink the blue agave

eat the worm  u gaze at your bloatedbeauty in a kitschy Kahlo mirror

stop being such a pussy    Rise up  +  Run for the hills !!

I would if i could

only get out

from

under

this BOOK

__

*SA  SA  SA

Fall 2022  ..*Save Apesie  Save Apesie  Save Apesie ..

aren’t we supposed to die??

u wouldn’t know it from modern medicine  a desperate

immortalitywhore   do anything to keep the patient

unalive   quality of life   fuck that!

bring on

drool

urine

feces

non-weightbearing showers

all this and more  for the  Kings Of The Jungle   NOT

we are slaves  to the unpardonable sin  the pact of Faust

linger in these lush moments of  breathing eating fucking

transcending?    (not if they can keep u chained)

greedy for  MORE  MORE  MORE  and then go visit your local

Long Term Care Home  where they warehouse our wise elders

u  CAN’T handle the truth buddy

if it walks like a hospice    it is one

__

Fall 2022    .. Bill C-7 ..MAID for dignity..

i am not an animal.. i am old

20 days in a covid foxhole   saw the suffering and grace

of the  almost dead and free   the Queen now flying  my

mother crying

where am i ? 

who are u ?

nice silverhaired   once daughter   one more once

several tiny periwinkle butterflies  gone by 11th morn

shorn by too aggressive chauncey  gardener  splattered

over grass  bloodywinkleconfetti    i DON’T like to watch   Eve

heartseeping after learning  mother’s delirium

slow moving + carcinoma  daughter’s delirium

incurable too

__

FALL 2022     I am not an animal

depersonalization nation

aka  headfuck  which was the verbal tic of

a boy we knew  after too much frogblotter

for this poet  that cute speckled frog  psychedelisized

those strange young breasts on the blind faith album

this almost led to schizoid splitting  at 12  those breasts

already trip inducing  blueveiny  with translucent points

now fast forward to trips taken  non lysergic induced  some

53 yrs later   during the great pestilence

yesterday while driving on longtrod streets (this after narrowly

missing a shooting in hipster park from hell) i looked up at the

ugly cake shops  +restos serving 20 buck cocktails to cockswains

and i was  unmoored

moments of  where am i   were long +offput   depersonalization

blooming  that dreaded twin of covidfog  a milder form of brainfuck

unless u are 90  +delirium sets in   your mind never to be heard

from  again

adrift  is the new normal  bouts of vertigo  crying in local metro

+facing the hard cold fact of a heartless corona  one that lodges

in the braindrain

i now know how i would handle war  clawing my way over bodies

selling my soul+body  and giving up names   it seems the survival

instinct  is  the killer instinct in sheepsclothes  i would do anything

to get out alive   not to mention what i’d do to save my mother

u too exalted?  too moral?  how about when the alternative is: to be

placed on a stage +forced to have sex with ones father?  a regular

Nazi pastime    (yes)

OK  now how about u?   u ready to climb over the semi-dead too?

__

Summer 2022  ..this is an unmoored poem..

the hag of cronesville + other stories

is aging the new death? can u all just give us

a few years to shrivel fer chrissakes?  so the box

is not filled with celebrityskin  all pink puff +hopeful

have u ever seen 100 yr old skin?  thin-skinned doesn’t

begin to cover it   sheer  veering off of bonesbrittle  creases

hiding small dogs  +mouldering sins

soon to merge with the  BIG HOLY SHIT  as in: almost

ghosted by God  every 10 yrs a stranger has the reigns

burns down the mission  u hardscrabbled to build

the million watt RED hair (u took a 2nd mortgage for) while

half listening to hair zombies  +a stylist who in dead monotone

says: so what u doing with the rest of your life  day?

u forcefeed her quips  half truths  u give her the best 30 yrs

of your life  now shorn  +pallid grey  u have nothing to say

your kingdom’s up for sale    again

this time filled with:  shapewear  too tight to eat  breathe + die in

plus a few leather jackets from your days impersonating anti-heroes

now antichrist +crepey  your 70’s loom  like a blowtorch

__

Summer 2022  ..anarchy poseurs unite..

what i did on my summer vacation

10 days in a covidbunker  with my 98 yr old mother

me: delirium tremens  weary  skin lifeless  +blob

she fared much worse

elan +chignon  gone   near hundred year old skin

clinging  chains clanging  the nasty cocktail of pills

keeping her unalive   growing

doctor’s vampire incisors glint   mrs. death cracks a

knowing smile  u humans are the dumbest bastards

god ever created 

verbatim my long dead father’s sentiment re: an uncut

pizza in the laurentians  we tore it to shreds with our

younghands  whilst father threw beers at passersby

__

Summer of Corona👑  ..we are family..🦇🦇🦇

valhalla+schmaltz

did u know there are 5 loon calls?  one is cackle

+looneybin   perhaps where this non PC moniker

of madness  was born

i heard it once in the woods at 4 am

with my husband of 3 yrs.  a real woodsy piece of work

even more so now  a hairsbreadth from 70  says things like:

sorry if u see it that way  á la Julie Payette  the fired Gov Gen

(both Gestalt therapy savants ie., deny deny deny!)

i read somewhere that the combo of Viking+Jew  is the most

fiery of all unions  how true  my kishkas are BBQ’d  + on chilly

nights  under moonsblue   i cackle like a loonfool

our final act may involve murder  or renewed vows!  ’cause once

you’ve had Viking  you are broken+brunhilda   able to eat rawbison

with yer bare hands   yet forever transformed  🐃 🐃

__

Mighty Thor  circa 1974

Summer 2022   ..hey Thor ..don’t lose yer sense of humour..

rumour has it

some rumours i have heard:

nails+hair continue to grow  in the grave

i know u are rolling your eyes  thinking  old poet

go on a fucking holiday!

maybe too late for that  2.5 yrs into the pestilence

i spent my 1st evening  with more than 3 people

there were 10

though i walked like a human  +talked like a human

i was zombified   trying to recall how to socialize  which

i never truly mastered  pre these covidtimes

i could tell my interlocutor wanted to escape  my wordswamp

words  stuck+defeated  croaked out   my train of thought

dead on the tracks

head-on collision  with emptiness  the font went dry  my left

eyesore  spied my loved one  escaping   all 10 party-people

were close family members

this one left me  mid-sentence  never to be heard from  again

rumour has it   he is now a porn star  in Berlin   fuck him

there was this terrible weighed down feeling   in my chest

mantle of mourning  for former life  rife with  concerts  libraries

+the temple of Gehry  making out with strangers in cafes

much sashay

old age is not an obscure rumour

except for in the

first two thirds of life

when it’s a cry for help

__

Summer 2022  ..okay okay..don’t get all depressed..

birdwoman of west queen west

it took weeks to get used to   birdsong

dawnchirpings  screech  howls  bit of baying

hounds the new de riguer dog  of creeping  hipsters

of which my hood is full           too

now the fucked cacophony melds with that of life

a cacoph so base  it inspires little  but as the sailors

like to say:  the darkest hour’s  just before dawn  eh

__

Summer 2022  ..don’t touch deadbirds..or shamey..