Do I always say /
dumb things or do I just think/
I say stupid things?
Category Archives: Revolutionary Poetry and Writing
Meaningless Meaning: Revolutionary IMproVerse Haiku
What’s meaningful to/
me but not solid to you/
ends up meaning nichts.
OR
What’s meaningful to/
me but not solid to you/
means it means nothing.
Continuous Learning Process: Revolutionary Blogging Haiku
Why do I just keep/
being stooopid, instead of/
just simply being.
Still Not Changed Enough: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku Lament
“Dress better.” “Calm down.”/
“Be good.” “Act professional.”/
I thought I’d changed more.
Or
“Dress better.” “Calm down.”/
“Be good.” “Act professional.”/
I’m still not enough.
Utah Sabbath Hymn: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku
Early Sunday morn,/
“Livin’ on a Prayer” still rocks my/
soul so deeply.
Another guilty response: revolutionary improverse haiku
I’m sad I cant seem /
to say anything that won’t/
prompt a guilt response.
Just One? Revolutionary Blogging Poem
When did “Just one?”
become
a question
setting us numb?
and causing indigestion
when asked,
as aspersions are cast
at mealtime?
Couldn’t it be
just as easily
a statement
that meant:
“Oh, just one!”
as in good?
Like Solomon,
so understood?
Or Just as you are inside,
validated,
with nothing to hide?
Openly justified?
So instead of feeling duress
at mealtime,
avoid that stress:
Think of “Just one?” as sublime,
and joyfully answer “I am! Yes!”
Pulling Your Chain: Revolutionary IMprov Haiku
Were you a toilet,/
you would always be running,/
as I pull your chain.
Does Lonely Beget Anger? Revolutionary IMprov Free Verse Poem
Does lonely beget anger?
Do we all stand up
and beg to be noticed
even as we hide?
Does attention-getting
beget rejection?
And the more we try
to be accepted,
the more distant
and lonely
we become?
No wonder
we are ticked off
at each other.
But who notices
except us?
A Painful Birthday Poem For My Daughter: Revolutionary ImproVerse Sonnet Lament
I stuck out my foot and broke her arm.
I laughed ’til she cut her face.
I watched her play ’til a shoulder
blew harshly out of its place.
I held her, gently, down
as needles tapped her spine.
She looked at me, surprised,
and winced but didn’t whine.
I sat there and listened
as she poured out what was inside.
It was my shoulder she reached for
when she broke down and cried.
But none of those childhood pains can even start
To compare to the trust lost when I broke her tender heart.