Poetry and the Cross-Pollination of Artistic Platforms (#poem #NaPoWriMo)

person jumping photo

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When people see a spectacular dancer,
They say, “Oh, that’s poetry in motion!”

And then they might see a moving painting,
And say, “That painting says it all—It’s like a poem!”

And good musicians are just considered poets.
I mean, Bob Dylan won a God-damned Nobel Prize
In literature, didn’t he?

But it doesn’t stop there. I’ve heard motorcycle
Races described at “pure poetry in action.”

It seem like any time something is done really well,
People think of it as poetry. Really, “poetic” is like
A synonym for really freaking fantastic.

If you were an outsider and heard people saying all this,
You might get the idea that everyone reads and cherishes poetry.

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Goat Man Tries to Save the World (#prose #poem #NaPoWriMo)

grayascale photo of goat

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I used to hear stories around Houston of a Goat Man who would terrorize people from time to time. This Goat Man had a muscular body and big horns like the ones you see on a Dodge Ram truck commercial.

You’d hear all different stories, of course, but the one that stuck in my mind was of a couple walking out somewhere near the Sheldon Reservoir when this goat-headed man jumped out of the woods making some really awful and threatening noises before throwing a car tire a hundred yards in their direction.

Now I guess that would give you a fright, all right, but the goat man seemed fairly subdued to me. I mean, If he could throw a tire that far, I reckon he could have hit them with one if he’d really tried. So, I’m guessing he was just trying to scare them away, and hats off, because mission accomplished.

As far as supernatural creatures with superhuman strength go, I think I’m rather fond of the goat man. I mean, he just lived in the woods and objected to people disturbing him by throwing their old tires and other junk in his home, and I can’t find one reason to blame him.

And maybe he was trying to warn us, too, about what was coming. I mean, he was probably screaming, “Y’all gotta stop throwing all this trash around, or the world’s gonna heat up and take revenge on ya!” You know, he was a supernatural environmentalist.

And he never tried to kill anyone walking around the Sheldon Reservoir, even if the gators did.

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On the Failed Attempt to Prevent Miscegenation in Polk County, Texas (#poem #NaPoWriMo)

love people romance engagement

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“I don’t want you to be mean to nobody, now.
When you go into town, you should wave
And smile and say, ‘How y’all doing?
Nice to see ya.’ Be nice and friendly
And respectful and then be on your way.
They have their lives to live, and you
Should just leave ‘em to it. You don’t
Need to be in their houses, and you
Damn sure don’t need to bring ‘em
Into mine. ‘Cause if you bring ‘em
Here again, you and me gotta problem,
You got that, boy? And you don’t wanna
Have a problem with me. If you wanna be
Welcome in my house, you better just
Let your new ‘friends’ go their own way.”

With that, he poured another coffee, lit
Another cigarette, and went out on the porch.

It didn’t involve the child listening from the next room.
Nothing in the world changed, except a boy’s heart.

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At Ease, Disease (#poem #napowrimo)

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The day 19 NaPoWriMo prompt was to write an abecedarian poem. Not my favourite thing, but needs must.


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High Peak Vegan Market – 4 May 2019

high peak vegan market 4 mayThe next High Peak Vegan Market will be 4 May 2019 from 1 – 4 pm in New Mills, Derbyshire, in St. George’s Parish Hall, SK22 4NP. We will have food from Randy’s Vegan Tex-Mex, Shakahara Gujarati Goodness, Pepino Deli, and The Pie Parlour and Bakery. We will also have products from Amanda Tropic Skincare, Planet Happy ecofriendly cleaning products, and Heart and Mind Programme: Yoga Meditation and Self-Compassion.

For more info, write randysvegantexmex@yahoo.com.


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The Best Way to Grieve for a Child (#poem #napowrimo)

brown bear plush toy beside pair of toddler s brown and white shoes on ground in selective focus photography

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They never changed that room.
Dolls, teddy bears, trains,
And transformers all hold space,
Lock time in perpetual stasis.
When death comes life stops.

Family said they should pack
Things away. It’s too hard
To be reminded day after day
Of a future lost in the past,
But a room can be a memorial.

It’s a museum of childhood,
Until a child of a later
Generation discovers it with
Glee. New memories are
Born of innocent ignorance.

As the teddy bear rests again
In loving arms, life continues and
Memory grows sweeter and
Stronger through squeals,
Taunts, laughs, and hugs.

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On Bodily Autonomy and Geriatric Femininity (#poem #NaPoWriMo)

grayscale photography of man carrying baby

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They never ask, the old ladies.
They just hug, pinch, kiss and
Cuddle at will. Babies are theirs,
You know, and they do love them
So much. I guess it isn’t their fault,
No one ever told them they aren’t
Free to touch at will. I once told
A woman to get her hands out of
My hair, and she said no man
Had ever asked her to stop
Touching him before. As an old
Lady, I’m sure she became another
Of the baby grabbers, the snogglers,
The unwanted snugglers, making
Babies turn away and stretch
For Daddy’s protection and loving
Embrace. And the Daddies will say,

“Don’t touch the babies. They are not
Yours to soil with dry lipstick and crepe
Paper skin. You may have thought your
Hands were never unwelcome, but
My babies know the master of their fate.”


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