Rigidify

scratching your head
nervous energy
dried out shower deprived skin
starring into whiteness
pen held ready
should any inspiration flow
into the void

high school desk
posed hand
the other drawing it
in HB pencil
perhaps you'll draw
a breast underneath
closest you'll get
to the real thing

you notice them
girls in your class
girls on the bus

aware you can not stare
you plan glances
an erotic zone sniper
lining up future targets

mail order catalog magazines
JC Penny and Avon come calling
underwear ad and swimsuit models
scanned for protruding nipples
beneath cloth covered swollen breasts
and price tags

rain soaked paper magazines
with mud splotches
found underneath bushes
added to under mattress
fantasy girl collection

flipping through photos
searching for incision scars
where they've stuffed the implant
can't get off to that
knowing there'd be no bounce
from pelvic motion transfer
if you really got inside

paralyzed feelings
petrified smile on silicon puffed lips
money making body modification
distortions to match
inflated male instincts

fire engine red lips
tongue hairy male thigh skin
no face to see so
it may as well be you
heavy mascara eyes
focused on a camera
puppet on a string
mental marionette makes
you want to pull her strings
when you can only pull
on yourself


©polarpaul 2006

Licorice

Eve
senior citizen with a blue Walmart vest
hibiscus Hawaiian shirt and hello
no lei to place around your neck but
a yellow felt marker
to place around printed products
line out liars

with a perfect Fixadent smile she quips,
"Wouldn't that sort of be a metaphysical infidelity?"

as she checks off the purchases on the receipt
versus the contents of the grocery cart
pushed by a taoist
in a pink t-shirt with an ironed on
plastic decal of brown socks on the front
proclaiming in black on the back
"Sometimes life's just socks."

a one pound bag of black licorice
drew him through the doors
everything may be in tao
not enough cash in his account
to satisfy his addiction
on pricey organic co-op candy

his eco-cash consciousness
shelled out in greenbacks on
native henna dyed
fair market value
hemp fiber shirt and
recycled blue jeans

an after Birkenstocks hike habit
acquired from chewing
after viewing
the deer and the antelope play
in their Rocky Mountain National Park

too much sweet glycrrhizic acid
and other phytochemicals
plan potassium takeovers
of his blood and bowels
trouble with feces
(let's just say they're black)

night time cramps come
sleep suffers
should have selected the 99 cent Gatorade
from the shelf the next aisle over
with no artificial coloring to
further agitate his
licorice and anise spiced mind

with ticks of bewilderment
yin and yang polka dance dreams
of Jesus and Buddha playing poker
soul chips piled high
on the green velvet table top
tipped over when Krishna loses his cool
he's never been a people person
been hanging with Shiva too long
nor a team player
don't let those airport tambourine troubadours
in their saffron robes and shaved heads
fool you

day light comes
he's overhung
regrets from licorice buying
still
no fights or other herbal delights
consume the taoist in his functions

tofu masquerades as dead animal protein
for breakfast, lunch, and dinner
vegetables can't scream
when you slice them open

daily dilemmas documented
in brown walnut ink
in a Himalayan handcrafted journal of
traditional daphne fibers
and no less than
10% post consumer content

sitting at the bus stop
he hums an old favorite from
protests past

If PETA Piper picked a peck of peppers
how many pickles did PETA Piper pay
to stay on the shelf at Walmart?

Oh black demon of
molten molasses
with wicked wheat
fuming fusaria toxins
coated in genetically modified
corn syrup carmel coloring
lascivious licorice
salt and anise

you are the jumbo black twisting serpent
in my eco garden of eden
Why do I still listen to you?


©polarpaul 2006

Buried

black and white photo of you
asleep beside
wooden alphabet blocks
lined up by
your toddler mind
too tired to play

obsessions start young
even mom and dad took note
remembered over 30 years later

they're divorced
so are you
broke her cold spinster cherry
of matrimony
her dream house brick money pit
nestled among the oaks
lawyers and doctors
led to conflict beyond
the help of counselors and compromise

still married to your need
to control the world through
the precision of geometry
trained to shoot the journey
of men in the world by
capturing
reflections of light
in 35mm emulsions

flash bouncing moments
fixed forever in time
in a chemical bath

What have you been taking?
What are you making?
of your life

locked into a trunk
an experiment by
your curious deviant brother
who later turned out to be
clinically insane
not a normal pre-teen
dark room experience

an anal teen who
ironed even
his jeans and t-shirts
before moto cross biking
in the dirt

dirt for play
dirt hauled up the hill
one wheel barrow at a time
to teach some character
keep you off the streets
to level the lay of the land

dictator dad let you have
one chance to retell
childhood from hell
20 years later when
you sought refuge in
his hillside home

cross country phone conversations
could not prepare you
to put up with dad's
probing encouragement

pining for privacy
you drove away
for a two day stay
in your car
in the city
site of your college and cancer

called him in Italy to ask
what you should do about
the alien invader in
your testicle

operate
contacted only the best facility
to cut you open to insure
optimal outcome

What else should a dad do?

not leave you to
the mercy of
medical creditors
who drove you
into bankruptcy after all
the insurance was gone

dad did drive
to see you when your innards
were scarred shut
from lymph node surgery
death in hours if
he hadn't heard
the vile green color
of your skin
through the phone
took action

where were you when
he lay sick
in the hospital
vomiting his own blood

could not be bothered
to bring his wife
to see him

so still with your sister
a year after you planned
to leave and live on your own

locking yourself into
her guest room
only emerging to feed
and go to work

fears for her marriage
with your tension in the air
wonders when where
you will go

can not bear to bring up
or broach the question
will you disappear completely
you're almost invisible now

plans of perfection prevent
all possibilities for help
left to your own devices
you will continue to
self-destruct
buried in your own mind


©polarpaul 2006

Mason Jar Lightening Bugs

in jarring sheets of grey lightening
waiting for the cracked termination of late nights
roiling enzymes flow in intestines
up ended thoughts seek low ground
sleep when the terrifying growth of junk food
will destroy a correction by the anorexic models
social media controls in Tampax and diet Coke ads
stoking the green paper fires of desire
holding in the haphazard consumption
of rampant inflation will destabilize
the divinity of class status
second chance seconds flick in and out
wick from white candle of consciousness
glowing nuclear implication lawyers
laying down a green grass carpet
watered with the sweat and blood
of covert loners lying gutted
by the dandelions, plastic coffee cups,
cigarette butts, and crushed Coors cans
laughing at the insipid correlation of human emotions
shift sand in the hands of
billionaires whose gravitational pull
draws forth oil stained waters to
erase their names from
the beach of public memory
leaving behind
toilet paper rolls of public record
to wipe their unholy aspirations
saturated with perfumes
of power and passion
they can no longer smell
money is a scratch and sniff card
an olfactory addiction
of pestle ground mortals
to spice appetites no buffet can satisfy
it's their world and
we just live in it

©polarpaul 2006

IGCSN

International Genetic Code Strand Number

black bag borrower of books
bar code beeps bring back
in two weeks
no longer will you tolerate
the smoky breath of
over the shoulder
behind your back
homeland security monitoring
of your reading records

an anal webcam used daily
to inspect internal orifices
would be less intrusive and painful

the information gleened from spleens
and digestive juices
could perhaps tell of food abuses

combined with
discount shopping card databases and
credit card purchases

make more money on milking
each tit bit by byte
into their vacuous vat
mixed and separated into
cream, water, whey
each institution crafts
their controls from funneled
public products

brie, cheddar, camenbert
swiss, provolone, guda
even the Roquefort files
fit into their rancid rushed
Limburger plans

it's all just Cheez Whiz and crackers
pasteurized process cheese sauce
in plastic packets
put into elementary school lunches

you pick them up curbside for protection
your vigilance extends to the home

Your child's web browser may protect them
from full frontal nudity
wicked words and pedophiles
but they will still select
a mission from the Mission Control Panel
on the right side of the
Defense Intelligence Agency Kid's page
Good Luck, they're counting on your help!

wouldn't you want to be proud to have
your child's name in Harold Vogel's
CIA Book of Honor
a death so secret and sacred
only a gold star on
handmade calligraphy paper
can adequately represent your sacrifice
bound in the finest
Moroccan goat skin undercover

Perhaps Terry Firma and Wanda World
will bring them into their orbit
these cartoon strip characters claim
"without geospatial intelligence, you're nowhere"

GPS implanted chips
are just the thing to find
lost dogs, stolen cars, kidnapped children
and rebels

do not even try to flee from
under Thumbzilla
whose radical radioactive growth is fed by fears
provoked through presidential public service announcements
and the national debt

so I pledge allegiance to the flag
of the uninformed uniformed intelligence of America
and to the reconnaissance I can't understand
one nation monitoring invisible
under cogs
with libraries where justice will fall


©polarpaul 2006

THC: To Come Home

Phil, a poet friend of mine, was joking with another poet who had asked if he and I we were related. Phil joked that I was his love child with Hillary Clinton-- hence the following poem.


Back in the day in Little Rock
before Monica and White House
before white water real estate scandals
and lawyers took guns to their head
a wandering bohemian poet caught
between the Memphis blues
and Dallas Cowboys
who had lost his ganja connection
sought to re-establish it in
Little Rock Art openings
on a muggy summer night

in those decadent days of debauchery
white water was what passed between Bill
and his queue of coeds communicating
through oral channels to curry favors for
their fathers and boy friends
so that the fluid of life had lost its viscosity
now no more than white water

Hillary hid his high jinks not out of jealousy
she was after all
one of those women that could have prevented
Katrina's catastrophe if more of her kind
had surrounded low down lying New Orleans

No she was furious his power had made him careless
so she sought revenge against the cosmos
attacking the Ganja Godesses's disciple
in mid munch of bacon rolled sausage h'orderve

she popped the question--
Would he like to get more comfortable?

his drink was drugged
then he was dragged
tied to a bed
so the razor back 1st lady
became a bucking bare back rider
on the poet's pole
while an apple in his mouth prevented
poetic pleas for protection
from this unprovoked bush attack

she later claimed he had written
poems of mass destruction
his secret controversial book of poetry
bears witness her fears were justified
published decades later
behind the protection of his pen name which
protects him still from the ravages of Greality

latex protection failed her that day
a little leak let loose
enough to impregnate
even back then she was a firm believer in
pro-choice
yet conservative in her choice of method
a Hoover canister vacuum

maid service saved him
behind the kitchen in the dumpster
Conchita heard the cries of the prematurely
sucked out infant
he had inherited his father's mouth
which always develops first in poets
so she suckled him to health
as her own child had
days before
in the back of a black unmarked van
along with 12 other illegal immigrants
perished despite surviving
in homemade seacraft
launched from Guantanamo Bay

her motherhood cut short
deported
after a labor strike
demon seed child shipped off
to foster care and later adoption

The Ganja Goddess swore
no razorback whore would walk away
from this defilement
she cursed the lands of white water
foretold of the day when her husband's seed
would betray them both
when a Bush, her weapon of choice
would be turned against her

What of the wandering poet?
for 40 years he wandered the ganja wasteland
persecuted for his herbal helper
driven forth over the land by rising real estate
low rent refuges harder to find
until the Ganja Goddess
gave a home to her believers
in the mile high city
where no prosecution could
touch them as long as the code of commons
share and share alike
the Ganja creed not hoarding greed
was observed

drawn by visions of his full breasted savior
and dormant poetic forces
in the northern nexus of nothingness
his son Paul
was drawn to Milliken
the hub of northern Colorado

momentous moments at Margie's Java Joint
despite gangs of musicians
storming the stage
Paul followed Phil
poetry held sway

resemblance uncanny
Paul's poetry was crippled by
the legal stricture of his mother's egg
perhaps Phil's poetic philosphy
and avant-garde poetry could still
save his son from a life time
of Hallmark card hollowness

intensive investigation
a used Mocha coffee cup
connections to his lab rat buddies
DNA from vacuum bag mementoes
hairs from the burning bush
revealed the long lost secret
Paul Phillary was found

©polarpaul 2006