Monday, July 13, 2009

images

everything's coming up carrots
karate, garrotes, caramel covered carrots
castle of carrots
carrots in arms, carrots in bugsy's hands
five carrot alarm
brandishing a carrot for a sword
my aunt's nose like a carrot in a snowman
my ring of rosies all carrots green in the ground
string of carrots surrounding the surround-sound
carrot on a stick
man is crawling toward it like peace
is running from one country to the other
carrots in the stew
carrots for the muse
munching on carrots like a new potato famine has hit
grating carrots, carrots, carrots
how do you like your carrots?
easy over, braised, on the grill, in the ground?
some carrots don't just take it lying down
carrots standing proud
defending the color of the guard
the orange men & women
working hard to get to the root of things
almost all of them mathmeticians
root of pi
grass in their hair
dirt in their bones
squeezed inbetween tomatoes and squash
scrawny upstarts
goliath plays "maneater" from his metal boombox
sitting in the plastic woven lawnchair
beer on the ground
carrot cake from the night before
sprawled out on the plastic red and white tablecloth
in the kitchen, with holes larger than the flies
cream cheese frosting melting and boring a hole
into the center of the baker's earth
mead and meadow far beyond the chainlink fence
concrete and trees growing up
like carrots turned upside down
new york city cypress and poplars
with their heads in the ground
with the grass beneath the surface
yellow hula hoop around a girl in a polka dotted sundress
red and white dots dancing back and forth
pig-tails in rubberbands
hands out with palms flat
garden hose spraying into a shower shaped like an umbrella
rhianna was singing somewhere in china
where this metal attachment was made
carrots with a slate breaking
carrots with green top
stop the press. stop the press. hold fire.
carrots
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serendipity
doves wings for sails
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TIIIIMMMMMMMMMMMMBEEeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrr!
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Dinah won’t you blow your horn
Dinah, Dinah, Dinah won’t you blow your horn?

Tweedle dee and tweedle dum
Lost in the graveyard, lost in the scrum

Dinah won’t you blow your horn
Dinah, Dinah, Dinah won’t you blow your horn?

Ten thousand miles more
Through robert frost’s thorn

Tankards and wayward
Cows in the kettle, fish in the corn

Slinging sweet easies and plenty of scorn
Dinah won’t you blow your horn?

Dinah, Dinah, Dinah won’t you blow your horn?

Morning has broken, like the firstborn
Riddles and rhymes for lost and forlorn
Temperature rising and many adore thee
Criminals crying and tender knots freezing
Yellow blanket with satin trim and woven threads breathing

Dinah won’t you blow your horn?

The sheep’s in the meadow, the tarot is worn
Dinah, Dinah, Dinah won’t you blow your horn?

Somewhere cathedrals somewhere one mourns
Somewhere on knees on the cold concrete floor

Nothing is lost, and nothing is shorn
She hasn’t changed much, your fleece on her arm

But Dinah is walking and taking her round
Baton is beating and backs breaking down
Still in the evening the whisper will sound
Never felt lost until you were found

Long ago dreams made of corn silk were wound
Tied to my finger the angeline bound
Milk from the moonbeams
Through windows came down
Wrapped you in mercy
Where others have drowned

Dinah, Dinah, Dinah won’t you blow your horn?
The speak easies scrubbing the hub-a-bub
door with the blood of the Lord
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What am I supposed to do when there is corruption all around me?
When nobody but the poor and the corrupt can agree
And on just one thing--
that it is there, that it exists, that this is no genie in a bottle but a casket of myrrh and frankincense
Pouring out onto the feet of self-elected and publicly erected kings of
war who speak of peace
Denouncing the very thing they do behind closed doors
Dancing in the streets
The poor and the corrupt agree
It is harder to sing
America the Beautiful
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Punishing the Peacock

Temperance in all things
Except justice
Bird in a cage flying with brilliant wings of
Purple and blue and green
Bleeding at the seams of steel
Fluttering heart with tail feathers crushed
So that the eyes cannot see

Folded in like a paper fan
All of the atrocities
Pushing away the heat as outside of the cage
Watching and waiting for
Something to die
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Shipwrecks intersect
At the quadrant of 5 and K
Oatmeal slinging deals
From New York to L.A.
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3 comments:

Anonymous said...

What does this mean? Do you just quickly write whatever comes to mind like word association? What is the purpose for posts like these?

Mama said...

Sort of. There is no purpose to the post other than to generate ideas for my books and just brainstorm creatively.

In college and even in AP English we had these assignments, sometimes in class, to write from stream of consciousness. I was told I must be very interested in language because of how I enjoyed writing just for the picture or for the alliteration or creativity, which is true. Some word association, but I purposefully put my mind into a sort of meditative state, like clearing it out of normal structured thought processes and linear thinking, and then I go with the flow. Sometimes I end up with rhymes, other times just random ideas all loosely (or not at all) related, but it's not striving for perfection or for a certain effect even...it's just pure creative processing with the point to free myself from traditional style. I sort of think of that one African American woman writer...who writes about the slave girl...

I'm not writing code or anything although I sometimes disguise what I really want to say with metaphor or a kind of creative code.

I think like everyone else. But to break out of the box, I try for random or try not to try too hard at all. Sometimes I've ended up with what I think are fantastic (;)) poems and other times it's just ideas.

It's not meant to be taken very seriously though I also believe in automatic writing to some degree, and that people can, SOMETIMES, tap into the subconscious or the psyche or even another consciousness, by being open to ideas.

Sometimes I "feel" inspired, other times I don't and I just try to put myself into the right mode.

My blog has some purpose, you know, things that matter or are important to me which are factual and other times, I'm just writing fiction and brainstorming. It's just my free-for-all journal of ideas.

I wish some people could understand that I'm not a "nut", I'm just a writer and I like writing about all kinds of things, in a variety of styles. I can write business style memos that are short and to-the-point as well, and did when I worked in business. No smiley faces. People who couldn't see what I looked like always assumed I was a man, and would tell me so later, because I was so direct, if you can imagine.

I sometimes just like to have fun. It's also a way for me to relax and amuse myself.

Anonymous said...

I hope I did not imply that I thought you were a nut. I try very hard not to be judgemental. Naturaly as humans we are very judgemental and think in someway or another that we are better than others but I try very hard to not be that way and remember that we are all made by the same God and he views us ALL as his perfect children!!!!