Twenty-First Century Poet ~ The Object of Every Woman’s Desire

The Art Museum is open every day but Thursdays
So I was there on Tuesday
And the curator was
pointing to some kind of artistic weapon of mass construction
Saying

This piece is titled
“The Object of Every Woman’s Desire”
Circa the early twenty-first century
The ‘poet’ of our little exhibit

Please note the complete lack
of upper body strength
The scruffy beard and the fashionably
unfashionable eye wear
The complete disregard for personal hygiene
Definitely early 21st

See how he extracts hardcopy poetry
from his orifice . . .
Now here’s my personal favorite . . .
The instruction manual:

“Make friends
influence people
and move in much higher social circles.”
Here it tells you how to eat
Sleep
Properly use the bathroom

Here it reveals the ultimate
Timeless questions
“What is going on inside her mind?!”
“Why does it seem men and women are speaking two different languages?”
“How can you become more attractive to women?”

“Poetry!”

“With this simple custom designed poetry mouth
You can expel the poetry
That will win you the love of a good woman
And the respect of your fellow men.”

“Not a book
Not a DVD
This is an actual biomedical implant
that requires no batteries.”

(A Steal at $69)
Just $21 ~ but you must order now
In addition you can also receive the amazing new book
“1001 Ways To Get Poetry to Come Out of Your Mouth”
(A value of $74 if you sign up immediately)

“You too can be ~ The Object of Every Woman’s Desire”
(Operators are on duty)

Aquiver

A quiver of arrows
Fletchered feathers aquiver in the breath of a semi-somnolent zephyr
Shivering
In anticipation of their flight?

Two souls cloaked on wet flesh
quivering in expectation of a touching
deeper than flesh
Two souls twined around ten fingers times two
joined as one

Does the tip of the arrow
hunger for flesh?
Hunger with anticipation and fearful shivering. . .

So close together
that one golden arrow pierces two hearts
welding two hands together

Two hearts
beating as one thing
A thing of rare beauty
A thing aquiver. . .

The Muse

And so Raven
(my muse)
says
“Get off your fat ass and write something”

No need to get personal

“It’s always personal
You think writing is easy?
The best writing comes from the deep-down place
The dark chambers of the heart
The unreachable pearly whites of human aspiration”

Easy for you to say

“No, son
It isn’t
I have to sit through entire paragraphs of crap
while you work through your issues. . .”

Why do you bother. . .?

“Because on those occasions when you nail it
When you hit the groove perfectly
Your work is pure electricity”

Silence
followed by the sound of tapping on the keyboard

Tennyoko ~ Tyro, Level 6

It is said
The snow hides the heron
When in Truth
The heron hides the heron
Do not blame the snow
Do not blame the heron for hiding in the snow

It is said
This arrow seeks your heart
But in Truth
There is no aim
There is no time
There is only your heart

It all started with poetry

It all started with poetry
Yeah
Had to be poetry

Now look where its gone
I’ve lost all respect for Syntax
My grammar’s shot all to hell
Punctuation was never my forte
And ellipses. . . let’s not even go there
so many dangling phrases
(At least my participles are secured)

Let’s not even talk about spelling
Structure
Any kind of Authority . . .
(I’m every grammar nazi’s dream)

It all started with poetry
Who knows where it goes from here

Don’t do poetry

If you want to keep your life
pretty
Don’t do poetry

Try cross-stitching or toll painting
But you would do well to leave poetry alone

Real Poetry is food from the Heart
Strong medicine
It is not for the weak

Real poetry springs from the place
where the cold comes from
the barren house of spent desires and sorrows
The frightful down under place
where cathartic moments thunder against the rocks of your soul

Real Poetry slips into the world
through the crack in the sky
The place where the Sun and Moon
enter and exit
Pass on poetry
if you’re not ready to embrace the light