Steam of consciousness

All posts in the Steam of consciousness category

Holiday Stream of Consciousness

Published December 22, 2017 by Nan Mykel

Conspiracy theories used to be fun….I remember reading last week that an asteroid was going to come pretty close to us the next day.  Was the flying saucer disappointed not to see fireworks?….You say Merry Christmas, I say Happy Holidays, ’tis the season to be jolly, hopeful, stoic, delusional, NOT DEPRESSED!  Can’t let reality get a foot in the door….But can this post really substitute for real Christmas cards?  Oh, the task of buying cards, matching envelopes, getting the right stamp, finding the stick-on return address and searching for the current address. plus painfully and grotesquely trying to print the address without messing up too many envelopes….and LEAVING HOME IN THIS WEATHER!….I know my followers on WordPress will accept this easy-way-out message, but there are so few followers and the world is so big!  In a puddle at the very bottom of my heart is love for you all….even those who have dropped me from their Christmas card list for not reciprocating….being a democrat….being a unitarian….being senile–I’ll stop there for my sake.                                                           HANG IN THERE!

Wading in a Rocky Scream of Consciousness

Published July 26, 2016 by Nan Mykel

On the occasion of going to dine

at Crys’s mom’s……refined

behind

bee-line

the wine

on time

Saw a Neanderthal in a pinafore…

Twice a year my nose gets outta joint

Th Roly Poly Poet…I get no further than that, you see, after so grand a title…

Dead Ends

You poets out there know I’m sure

how sneaky words can pose a lure

in order to make you think you’re on the brink…

But some poems are dead ends–never see

the light of joyful welcome.  Sigh,  we know it’s we who have failed them.

Other poems just don’t have it, only

lie on the dock smelling fishy,,.

They do it about once a year now–

my words. They want to play with me.

They jump in the dirt and roll…and

expect me to crawl in the mud after them–(which I do)

If I say thunder rattled the window pane

where does your mind go next?

I wrote a depressed poem called Down in the Mouth

and it was so bad I wrote “Lighten Up,”

both blessedly missing from this diatribe.

 

For shame, Alphonse, was my response

when he suggested a rendezvous–

just we two. I got mad, then sad

for though he was my sisater’s beau

I always thought him cute, you know?

 

 

Nan

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