Breakdown Howls – Verses

BREAKDOWN HOWLS

Grab a piece of reality and

take it with you when you journey

to the other side!

 

Word salad is a symptom.

How can that be? Early English

sounds daft to me.

 

STOP!

Just stop it!

I need a respite.

 

Nit-picky poems, mine

always stop short of fearful

herculean struggles.

 

Everyone really does

hate a bully. When will

they remember that?

 

Prostitutes are now sex workers.

Slaves are enslaved people.

When will a versifier become a poet?

 

Some things last like

Days of Our Lives.

Others hit the tombstone circuit.

 

Evolution has set us up

to think with faulty data.

Defense mechanisms betray us.

 

I caught sight of me

in an alternate universe during the night.

She was me but younger and

so much wiser!  She said

to tell you Hello.                                                    nan

About Nan Mykel

I used to think I would be a child prodigy, but then I got old. Formerly I had fantasies of rubbing elbows with cultural and academic leaders but that did not come to pass because I did not become a cultural or academic leader or any other kind of leader, for that matter. I am not even an "Alpha Dog," a term learned from a friend who had to become "Alpha Dog" in order to influence her own pet. (When gazes lock, she never looks away.) For years I expected to become a published author, but in passing I could not avoid the fact that I had little to contribute to the world's bulging dumpsters. I'm embarrassed to report that I also considered my primary process artistic productions powerful, rather than mildly neurotic. Which is not to say that I disrespect myself, only that I am beginning to doubt my potential for making a mark on the world. If I focus on strict self discipline I may be able to keep my garbage removed on a weekly basis, to keep the kitty box changed, the clothes cleaned, the dog watered, fed and walked, but that just catches me up to the starting mark again. When writing I physically grapple with words, wrestling them from their indifference into attempted chunks of awareness. I sit heavily on my chair; I breathe in artificially cooled air; my ear drums note the tap tap of the keyboard and the steady uninterrupted sound of the air conditioner, What is that sound? The roar of the ocean from 30 yards away...Inside, my thoughts are are balls in an electronic game machine, bouncing hither and yon from lever to lever. I am a little grim and intent until I recall a dream related by a black man in the prison where I once worked. He said that when he was a small boy, back home, he dreamed he was standing on his front porch pissing, and that he suddenly found himself pissing stars...
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4 Responses to Breakdown Howls – Verses

  1. Love the last stanza the best!

    Like

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