Distraction

A sense of losing traction.
Concentration shattered against
a stimulus.

Tension coils atop
your fevered head,
awaiting a hair,
trigger release.

Controls erected.
Diversions to avert
an overflow into
dry white flaked skin,
an itch.

Goals set forth.
Cataloged collections of
concrete actions
derived from principles.
Your mind's marching orders.

A civil war inside your skull.
The muse weakens,
a knock on the door,
a fly landing,
shadows.


©polarpaul 2008

There goes the neighborhood...

An aftermath of
used coffee cups and spoons
arrayed on white tables
a flock gabs beneath
my perch
keeping the kids awake.

Why don't they just go away?
The music wafting through the rafters
was tolerable.
After a few weeks it blended
right in with the hiss of steam,
the door bell chimes,
the hum of traffic along the road--
hypnotic white noise.

They came chattering,
looking at books and papers,
starring at each other,
bobbing their heads, sipping,
clacking on keyboards,
scratching away with sticks on paper.

Their over powering stench
led me to contemplate
how to drive them off,
out of my sanctuary
back to wherever they'd come from.

Strategically placed in cups,
on food
as they milled about
I awaited their response
to my white messengers
from above.

They paid no heed,
oblivious.
Perhaps their thoughts
turned to
marshmallows and cream?

My ire had missed the mark.
Now I've flown this
coffee shop coop.


©polarpaul 2008

Roses in Water

"All of the true things I am about to tell you are shameless lies.
Anyone unable to understand how a useful religion can be founded on
lies will not understand this book either."
--KURT VONNEGUT, Cat's Cradle, 1963.

Roses in water
seeped in history
their essence distilled--
purified for deity.
The blood red rose derives
its name from Damascus.

Clutch your rosary tight to your chest.
There aren't enough beads or
stanzas to meditate on
the world's conflagrations.

Babylon is alive though not well.
The deluge changed nothing. Too bad
God needed Noah's family to sail the Ark.
Could the animals have done any worse?

Portland, U.S.A. is the Rose City.
Qamsar, Iran is the Rose Capitol
of the Moslem world. It supplies the
rosewater used to clean the
Holy Ka'bah in Mecca during the Hajj,
the number one pilgrim destination
on their way to the after life.

Rosewater seeps into the lives of
humanists seeking to make sense of this one
when they're not counting on the next.

Alter ego of Vonnegut
(their honorary president)
attempted to clean his family's
fortune accumulated from the seeds of
civil war profiteering by giving it away.
God Bless you, Mr. Rosewater!

From a lineage of German free thinkers,
the actions of his fascist homeland's Christians
played out in his novels. Billy Pilgrim's nut hut
roommate is Rosewater. Dresden is aflame
in his timeless reality.

War's waged and there's not enough
rosewater to quench the fire. Old allies
arose. Were the Russians irked when the
Chechen President washed the Holy
Ka'bah hand in hand with the King of Saudi Arabia
to seal their unity with rosewater?

Lutheran evangelicals hosted a healing
ceremony in Pennsylvania. Guests were
greeted with a rosewater
anointing of their forehead by
one of three sisters in response to the actions of
razor blade wielding Saudi dissidents and their
comrades on 911. No doubt they ritually
washed with rosewater before turning
to Mecca to pray and board their flight.

Iraqi Jews pour rosewater into
their Baklavah. Israeli soldiers try to
push Hamas out of Lebanon. They
pull out as did Syria,
Land of the Rose, to a
resounding, "¡jamás!" which is never.

Assassination flourishes while
rosewater sanctifies:
Christian, Moslem, Jew.
Whose rose
red blood stains the streets?

Watered roses continue to
claw their thorny way
up the tower of Babylon
seeking the light,
an uncultivated weed
in need of some serious soul
searching or weed whacking.


©polarpaul 2007

Life Through a Hole

on rusted iron door
black patch
single slot
lights up

as greasy curved up fingers tap
key punched down
I do
lock on
DARK IDOLS CLAN KING
lock off

rotate wrist
thumb over finger
grasp cutlass held high

eyes roll up inside the skull
to watch gold filigree plunder
waving in the air
urging seamen forth
out on the tide
under harvest moon
lighting their way


©polarpaul 2007

Upon My Belly

Black beneath acrid
odor of tomato breath, I lay
my lines. Suspended in air
feeling vibrations from
frantic random limb movements.

I dash down the tight rope, with
winding legs wrap them
up. A step back to reel
them in. My abdomen's sharp
needle stab injects digestive
enzymes. Vacuum down
life juices.

Drag their shriveled
carcass down into my
lair. Snares redrawn, I crawl
to the center of my world with
a red hour glass
upon my belly I wait.


©polarpaul 2007

Four

11 seconds and you wanted time to stop so you could get it right
but it didn't and it will cost you all the rest of your life
a technicality, loss of possession
Final victory your obsession

a hand written letter to console you
President Bill told you:
"part of playing for high stakes under great pressure is the constant risk of mental error"
you blew it and he got blown

you came in 1 Fab of 5
too ashamed to face the other 4
Jackson, Jalen, Jimmy, Juwan
you left early

drafted #1
you were traded for a Penny
from Disney World to Golden State
rookie of the year
passing the ball and the buck were the most developed of your skills
you brought your warriors out to play
Sir Charles made you pay
Nike Ad made him mad
for what you had to say
56 in 1 day

coach nervous Nelly couldn't tell you what to do
trade demanded, trade accepted
fired off to Washington as a Bullet
Nelly walked before your firing squad

the Warriors lost their heart
they've not had a victorious campaign since
you were Magic Warrior Bullet Wizard
disjointed out of place
you couldn't shoulder the burden
reunited with Juwan
1 of the 4 J's
who toughed it out 1 year longer
he is number 5, remembers, show his pride
you hide

filled your need with weed
busted you couldn't be trusted
two Vegas brothers rolled the dice
made you a King
traded for a sharp shooting
state capitol All-Star MVP

you refused to come to court
broke down when you heard the money call
it wouldn't be the last time
wasn't the first
no champagne wishes granted
parched throat thirst

you, Jay Will and a couple of Yugos
drove straight to the playoffs
the town had never drunk from the golden cup
but were drunk in anticipation
1 for the money: but the mail man delivered
2 for the show: pushed to the brink you blink

your buddy Jalen fared no better in Indy
blown out in 6 like a candle when it's windy
a rose with another name comes out a loser
he is number 5, remembers, shows his pride
you hide

wanderlust
you crave soul food
max contract
to see Webb back or pack
you're gone
so two rich white brothers
your masters
mow your lawn

grand jury speeches
oh what a tangled web you weave
to protect dad, auntie and deceive

3 to get ready: swept by the show
AI had 1 answer
but he didn't know
can't stop a diesel foe
76er ashes glow
blowing smoke
what a joke

1 2 3
the Show must go on

4 to go:
straight to the top dream
an appeal to the supreme
court of the sport
future Rocky mountain rapist
and Shaq on the ropes
Horry heaves over you
hits 3, still hopes

missed free throws
opportunity cost
over time at home lost
you mope you moan

time to go fish
fry it up cajun style
blackened
you'll soon feel the fire
want to retire

Spring again
no jailing Juwan
he's on the other side of the fence
with Cuban capitalist Mavericks
you bridle them
had them down 2

pin prick Voodoo
Old Nelly's revenge
a jump, 1 of thousands, millions you've done before
no contact, no foul, you howl
ligaments twisting, snapping coming down
Royalty tried to corral them, but the Mavericks broke free
no Chris, not enough Christie

Spurs dig in to tame
Kidd from Cal
twice Nets leader loses
shame
at least he came

drills, doctors, pills
old gambling ghosts come to haunt you
FBI seizures taunt you
Tractor Traylor with Cleaves
who will win where you wouldn't
leaves money thieves
rolls over to sing
bring
the biggest prize of all
you
surround yourself with civil rights memorabilia
purchased with your millions
paid in blood spilled by your brothers
your sisters suffered too

Senegal slave poet
How could she know it?
4 years before the Spirit of 76
testing tribunal
John Hanncock signed off
Jefferson mocked her mind
took her sisters' bodies to bed instead
first publication in a foreign nation
brought emancipation
no salvation
no second look or book
died in dollar depression
from supreme white suppression

Miami monkey picture postcard
with 4 cent royal purple Lincoln looking on
Malcom X wrote to Haley author of their Roots:
"One hundred years after the Civil War, and these chimpanzees get more recognition, respect and freedom in America than our people do."
another bullet

Martin Luther another King
like Jimmy who got no respect, but kept, his integrity
A Junior like your father
he had a dream too
another bullet

They wanted to make an example of you so that others of your kind would know they couldn't break the rules and hope to get away with it.

Another Martin was your savior
a Valentine's day gift
he died too

slap on the wrist by a ruler
summer school tutor be stern:
Read to achieve.

titles stripped
money taken
you can't go home
you're officially forsaken

you came back humbled, hobbled
weaker than before
the faithful court booed lustily
as you heaved and weaved a cripple among the warriors
I know I was there that night.
I was there another night too.
01/05/01 when you scored 51
an All-Star's shining moment wasn't enough
you lost over time
fame fades till you become a shadow of yourself
when a Kid, the Kid, MVP, who'd never done it before
cuts you down
timber
wolves standing over your carcass

summer, sharp shooter challenges you
wants to move, then stays on
no granted wish
another tragic Magic trade
over the Hill
wished they still
had Ben, had Shaq, had you
a Penny burned is a Penny returned and waived

the Spirit of 76 took you away
for a Skinner, KT, and Corliss William's son
the once and future King with a ring
who won what you wanted
as the 6th man
a Golden Chalice at Auburn Palace
in your home town, Motown
the same Pistons that crush you when the season's done.

Petrie dished and dealt
double
executive execution prizes
his surprise is
"the memories will remain the property of the Sacramento Kings"
it stings
beyond the chain link fence
black hat, black suit
black pack slung on back
left hand peace out
you walk away
to fly the sky
May AI
be the answer
for Finals win 1
no cross
you are not Christ
Four
you are Chris


©polarpaul 2007

Permanent Press

The Hulk
a purple panted Pinocchio of rage
the madder he gets, the stronger he gets
green gamma muscles bursting out the seams
a revamped, illustrated pulp fiction
a case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
without evil intentions or guile

when sleep overtakes him
after the adrenalin has run its course
his transformation back to Dr. Bruce Banner
spindly, mild mannered geek
begins

But what's with those pants?
No matter what the stressed out scientist wears
when emotional overload transforms him
into a 1000 lbs. of muscle bound green fury
he never fails to end up wearing
those purple pants
uniformly
raggedly ripped
just below the knees

pants that somehow
transmute from grey
Haggar comfort fitted elastic slacks
on the bony hips of a haggard pale skinned man
to royal purple jeans

when puny punk Banner
can't handle it all
The Hulk takes over
an overgrown, cranky toddler
who seeks solitude
he's no green skinned Hyde
with murder or suicide on his mind

still
without fail
some super hero fool
answers the call
to protect the public
from his temper tantrums
feels the need to knock the chip off
his jaded shoulder

then all hell breaks loose
but those damn purple pants stay up
can't say the same for super dude though

from time to time
the Hulk gets knocked to the ground
never down for the count

yet his purple pants
have never been down
I think those comic's code censors
couldn't show off
an emerald phallus
even if flaccid
where the kiddies could see it

so let him smash up a building or two
leave some bruises and Bruce bewildered
by the side of a ditch

so draw blood
draw close to death
but never touch it
but never drawn
with his drawers down
dick out
after all
his purple pants
are the fig leaf of
their imagination

©polarpaul 2007