Razzle-tat-tat
Behind time, thrust in present
Honey of the God’s run loose
Peeled plaster mangy tables broken glass
A Cool Cat hops and sways
Thump-Tum-Tam
Poet shirt, kilt to the wind
Bull neck, popped veins, dark curls mop
Bare as the day Born
Beating rhythm lyrics from the Nether Regions
HOO-OWWL…
SexDrugsRock-n-rollMotherFather
LoveHateFetishSexualityAndrogyny
SinsTruths: Humanity’s Conditions
Veneer torn away, respectability a lark
Snap-Snap
Jaws slack, eyes slapped
Vulgar words stab ears
Bird thin skulls twitch smiles
Ethnic blend cigarettes
Dum-Dum-Dim-Dum
Vanity amateurs overrun walls: ART
Passions birth by disillusion of grandeur
Oh where, oh where is my cliché beret?
Shimmering blond coiffed in a bouncing bob
Dark, svelte glasses conceal her humanity
Plush black wool wraps a chic, small waist
Draping softly into skirted folds, enveloping knees.
Curved leg, sensible heels, provocatively engage the viewer
Western Femininity.
Each morning she whisks by perched defiantly on her electric scooter.
Where does she go? What does such a woman do?
Flaunting her individuality in the face of society.
Old men shake their heads at her daring novelty,
Young boys marvel at her machine,
Women envy her freedom.
Quickly she is gone, a blur of modernity against the rustic country backdrop.
————————
Black chiffon wimple pinned crisply under the chin
Soft eyes, the sole accent of humanity
Practical, dark cotton drowns the figure
Somber folds falling to feet.
Curved ankle, delicate shoes, cloaked identity provocatively engage the viewer
Eastern Femininity.
Silently she pads by each morning, invisible to most.
What delicacy lies beneath? What does such a woman think?
Those whose eye she catches stare: contempt, frustration, ignorance and intolerance.
Others with pity, her somber attire a prison wall
Freedom lying just beyond social context and moral beliefs.
Quietly she is gone, a shadow of antiquity against the rustic country backdrop.
Watch out!
Between the night and day, in the middle hour of none, if you are quick you can catch a glimpse...
SHHH, here they come, the little green men!
I peek over the window frame and such peculiar creatures do I see!
Neon green skin, rough to the touch, leathery skin and hands, with thick heavy feet that are removable!
One creature turns it’s geometric shaped head, with glassy eyes and pale skin… whew! did it see us?
You know, they peel off their green skin at night…
The many secret folds hiding the small treasures found when hunting.
Traveling in pairs, pecking the ground, pawing through grass and bush. They hunt large green bubbles ripe with miscellaneous excess, small scraps of petro and soft pulp (which seem to be it’s favorite).
Low gutteral grunts communicate with each other, sprinting about quickly, their time limited by the rising sun. Quickly they disappear around the corner headed toward their craft...
A spotless garbage truck.
Perhaps I will catch a glimpse of them again, next Wednesday.
Golden pancakes, bacon and eggs
The swift scythe of habit, slicing conversation, the yielded goods... smugly satisfying.
Football, southern twang, cowboys and jitterbug
Betrayal of one’s roots, guilty pleasure in moderate stereotypes.
Ingeniue, Dark Horse, wild rides, tales of valor and honor
Risk, Spontaneity, Color, Innocence– Americans unique gift to the world.
To truly appreciate what you have, see it, feel it, translated by another culture.
Ideals converge, bubbling happily among one another, momentarily mingling only to continue on their individual paths...Full of reassurance, each remembering who they are.
Over the River and Through the Woods to the Escole I go.
Changing leaves, gnomes and things, I really must not pause!
Winding Paths and Deserted Roads, to the Escole I go.
Dark clouds above, a basket of food, my journey has just begun!
Past the Cemetery and Over the Highway, the Escole I’m almost there.
To sing and dance, and learn my French— every day I must go.
Lime-green Walls and Pint-size Chairs, 8 hours I will spend.
Dim grey windows, tattered books, reciting children’s poems.
Little Red Nose and Thin Wool Coat, I really must not pause...
For if the dark or rain won’t get me— the cold most certainly will!
*escole= school