Alchemy

Anger flows; eyes flare at those
Whose words are swords in trembling hands
In morbid might spite grips and grows
From poorly composed blind demands.

My best intentions ash to dust
Dis-ease consolidates to Lead
A warm thump of power lust
On drum skins stretched across my head

A single droplet from a leaf
It’s presence ripples pure
Sweet clarity is my relief
Compassion is my cure

The frailty of others shown
Is Gold that sets me free
That's Magick from the Wise Oak grown
My Friend – that’s Alchemy.

Sam Edge

The Secret

Today at the Pond - Herotomost is asking us to tell the universal truth of life - as seen through eyes of a child. He explains it much better here. 

*******

When Nana died 

She didn't cry.

She just blinked

And asked why... 

... Daddy Why?

Then together

In a thinking state of mind

We decided Nana lived

The kind of life you only find

At the end of roads travelled 

In a way we both surmised

That even God would have approved of.

Nana always used to tell us 

we all get a certain sum of ticks and beats

and using them the best we can

is what makes a life complete.

So I told her Nana lived life well

and her time had just ran out.

Then I waited with breath bated

Fretting over if she got it.

This all was a puzzle to her

So she sat a beat to see 

If she could sort it out. 

I watched her work

across the possibilities with

a curiously furrowed brow.

Then in just the right amount of ticks 

And with a teary big-eyed look 

She turned to me and said:

"If Nana died when time ran out,

Dad, let's just take our time."

I knew just then she’d found The Secret

and I hoped that she would keep it

until such a time as she would need it 

 for a life lived to completion.

********

This is based on a real conversation with my Daughter, Emma, when my Nana died (her Great Nana). I've written about it before but today seemed appropriate to revisit her innocent wisdom.

Best Sam

Notes from the Edge

Back to School

Wide eyes true 

are back to school.

Played right up

to Labour Day.

Try to be cool 

with butterflies.

Hide your Sponge Bob 

lunch box virus.

Miley Cyrus - so '08

Wonder who the 

cool kids are?

Under just know 

you are okay.

*******

 Out of the lake and into the Pond :)

Baby Proof

It's been a while. I've been resting. I'll ease back into it with inspiration from Mama Zen and Words Count from the Garden - "Write about being safe in 53 words or less"

It try to spend at least an hour 

each day playing with my baby. 

She reminds me just how baby

proof and happy life can be.

She reminds me simple things are safe and easy.

Giggling and peek-a-booing 

tickling the best of what's left

from the baby that I used to be.

(52 Words)

The Ballad of Sam and Nona

He came from the dust of bullets and muck

and she with the grace of lilacs and such

Between the two was one fierce soul

two halves that made a whole

Together they could not be beat

he made her tough she made him sweet

they made their way and paid the toll

and slowly grew into two sacred souls.

*****

The Toads are writing Ballads today. I've been away from my poetry for a while busy working of some other projects. This was a good one to get back on tract. I think there's more here but for today that all I got.

Registered Mail

Shay is kicking it old school in the Garden with some old fashioned snail mail. I took a bit of a dark turn turn on this one. The last letter I got was registered mail for the Custody Agreement mediated between me and my Ex - by far my darkest hours. 

I worked in my favourite song of all time Behind Blue Eyes. I posted both versions of the Song - the original by the Who and and remix by Limp Bizkit. I like the Who better. The new version is well sung but they left out the one verse that is my favourite lyric of all time in song or poetry: 

When my fist clenches, crack it open 

Before I use it and lose my cool 

When I smile, tell me some bad news 

Before I laugh and act like a fool 

And If I swallow anything evil 

Put your finger down my throat 

And If I shiver, please give me a blanket 

Keep me warm, let me wear your coat 

[That's why Fred Durst is the Worst.]

Behind Blue Eyes (The Who Original)

I refuse to sign today

for self-inflicted tragedy

the evil that I didn't swallow

my hamster had a speed wobble

then Speedy had a heart attack

I had to stop and take a tick

but if I choke

who'll stick their finger down my throat?

I hate those pricks 

those courthouse bricks of family sicknesses

held by mortar made of horrified 

and mortified little kids

who had to choose

and always loose 

no matter what they did.

Should I sign for misery?

register my apathy?

In the case of him and her 

Overseen by hatchet face

Gunna put me in my place

I'll take the head 

You take the rest 

If I confess would you take less?

Would you feel these feelings like I do? 

and I blame YOU

"Wah Wah Wah Wah Wah"

What the fuck was that?

Charlie Brown's teacher talking 

reading mediated papers

in the the case of me and you

no adultery but we're sick 

of getting screwed

Roger Daultry ringing in my ear

nobody knows what it's like

to be jaded and so faded

and to carry all these lies

Discover whether weekends 

and a birthday here and there

are enough to Limp along 

and show how much I care 

but maybe there's loophole here

maybe I won't fail?

if I never sign 

Maybe I can buy more time

if I never sign 

Registered Mail.

Behind Blue Eyes (The Who Original)

My Wild Woman

Inspire Howl Wing - Ella's Edge

*******

She exploded onto the scene 

with a roar

exaggerated by silence

and patiently waiting

for my Wild Man to mature

She taught me strength 

by embracing weakness

with tender nipples 

and mid month bloating

she showed majesty 

in the face of travesty

She showed me I was too strong

to be powerful

bleeding is beautiful

true beauty moves 

it bends mountains and men

Once her presence was known

she folded into gentle steel

growled quietly

at dangerous strangers

and watched with amusement.

*****

Toads are revisiting old prompts - I chose to get in touch with my wild woman.

It's Okay Day

Just for today we can be
Just be

Just for today it's Okay Day
It's Okay to be fat and white
It's Okay to be black and right
God doesn't take sides today

No stranger danger for today
No bills to pay
No one suffocates today
No one hates today

Even the sick can take a break
Break the chains of yesterday
No one starves or runs from carbs
We even let the bad guys pray

Just for today it's Okay Day
It's Okay baby girl
It's Okay to be afraid
It's just Okay

Just for today we can be
Just be

********

Today the Toads are celebrating our own special holiday in our imaginations - Happy Okay Day :)

Frozen

Post by Wenona Gordon.

*****

Seems like a lifetime
since I've felt sunshine
that north wind keeps blowing

I'm frozen. So frozen.

Wind blown snow angels
hard crusty drifting
across a dark carcass
the lonely forgotten
smashed jack-o-lantern
and Christmas tree ashes
spread solemnly calmly
in deafening stillness
surrounded by breath clouds

So frozen. I'm frozen.

The crack of the ice
a warm breeze at night
icicles trickle and drip
is Mother tricking me?
Roll over and dream of
the sweet smell of spring
out there somewhere
a flickering candle
Lord knows I can't handle
much more of this winter.

I'm frozen. So frozen.

*******

A Poem from a Frozen Toad 

Apple Happy

Inside every apple seed

is a perfect apple tree.

Pure potentiality

engineered delicately.

Inspired by the great divine?

Intelligently designed?

Happy apple accidents,

random happenings of time?

Each seed has the will to be

to manifest its destiny

to grow and bare precious seeds

achieve immortality.

Apple trees never ask why.

Can't bare pears and never try

or lay awake wondering why

branches point towards the sky.

They're just plain old apple happy

******

Today the Toads are inspired by the metrical verse of Robert Frost. One of my favourite American Poets.

The Master

A jolt of joy and promise 

A young man’s wicked smirk 

Dough-soft and putty-pink, 

Nature’s punching bag 

Bullied no longer - he exploded. 

This little pig went ape. 

The smooth structure of night 

The way we feed 

The lavish consumption 

The hunger 

I feel that missing “o” 

Hanging off of a sad moustache. 

In and out and in and out 

Relishing every minute 

Wishing this could rattle on forever. 

Silently, she shows him. 

At the edge - nothing so vulgar 

Life lived to the hilt 

Between the sincere and insincere

The smack of satisfaction 

The ratio of demons to angels 

Where there can be only sorrow 

Sprawled in a haze of heroin 

How crushing addiction can be 

A spirit from the same tribe 

The flame of feeling that stoked 

Inside that ordinary body 

An immaculate jacket 

Helplessly he stands there. 

Arms flapping at his sides. 

Slumming was not an option. 

He joined the barn dance 

His hair neatly brushed by a fussy mother. 

Triggering the blind rage rough red-faced rant. 

The pains that he took 

To camouflage his bag of tricks. 

The full-blooded swagger 

Putting on a show. 

A modest approach 

An unexpected trait 

A force of nature 

The bulk and blaze of him - that’s gone.

********

In memory of Philip Seymour Hoffman. This is a cutout poem for the Imaginary Garden taken from the February 11, 2014 New Yorker article the Master. All the words in this poem are from this article and in the order they appeared.

Mama Likes The House In Order

Mama likes the house in order

every purpose has its place. 

Every tightly tucked emotion

measured out in proper portions

simmered to perfection and 

distributed in equal portions.

Mama Likes The House In Order - Lisa Graham

Inspired by the Art of Lisa Graham and prompted by Grace at the Imaginary Garden

My Creative Space

In my humble opinion Hugh Dillion and the Headstones saved Rock and Roll from Kurt Cobain and the rest of the grunge hippies wannabes in the Nineties. I know that's almost blasphemy this close to Seattle but ... 

Now twenty years later they come out with this and it's just and good as their first. 

*********

"When something stands for nothing a detached memory

this ones about everything you don't think about until you sleep"

I never know why sparks fly no place to run no place to hide

I try to slow it down but I'm just too wired

 "this one's for nothing and this one's for fun"

You talk too much so I double clutch 

stutter step and a sucker punch

I'm a gateway drug but there's not enough 

so I sobered up 'cause that's twice as tough.

"and this one's for rock and roll and comic books and bubble gum"

I think I'm too old to be this mad 

my mid-life angst feel's a little sad

'Cause when I'm in my creative space 

you can't kick the smile off my face

"So this one's for the silence and the questions that it brings

and the smell of time and irreverence and the possibilities."

I never know why sparks fly no place to run no place to hide

I try to slow to down but it's just the way I'm wired

*******

Kerry has us writing about our "creative space" today in the Garden. For me it comes from inside and it comes in waves. I had fun with this one.

This is their first hit from 1990.

Flaming Orbs

Flame Orb - Deborah Glessner 2014

God knows the rocky road I chose

sometimes it was just too damn close 

I'm slower now with room to grow. 

I catch my breath and take a glance 

beyond the pomp and circumstance. 

I bend in gratitude for one more 

second chance but every time my 

bounce comes back I trip and get a 

hitch that knocks me off my stride. 

At times my confidence still limps 

from wars surrendered long ago 

 A message from a glimpse of light - 

A fiery sign I'm not alone. 

A spark of truth that shines on lies

and gives hope to a new sunrise.

The bounce is not to give away

a flaming orb that must survive

and thrive behind the fiery eyes 

of Men with hearts they could not hide.

Men who showed me who I am 

and lit a fire behind my eyes.

The bounce of pride now lives inside 

the flames are too alive to die.

*******

In Loving Memory of Jack Hambleton and Robert Edge.

*******

Margaret has a cool prompt today for the Imaginary Garden. Along with the "Orb Art" of Deborah Glessner, she explains it as follows:

"For me, the word orb conjures up ghosts in the form of balls of light - life forms that are believed by some to be the human soul or life force that once inhabited a physical body here on earth. It is said they have stayed behind because they feel bound to their previous life or previous location for whatever reason."

I believe my Grandfathers stayed behind to look out for me - I have had many unexplainable experiences that have proven this to me. They were both powerful men who weren't afraid to tell me they loved me. When they both passed it had a profound effect on me and I felt like I became stronger.

Border Town Disorder

Juarez Car Rental

Bits and pieces of a Border Town Judge
He blew up real good - better than a lawyer
ever could. All that's left is a gold tooth and
a bullet proof vest made in Russia with love 

back in the days when Cold War was enough.

I won a free trip to Juárez, - 
think I'll el pass-o on that.

Things can be boring around here
we just make babies, drink whiskey and ski.
But skiing is safe - except for Sonny Bono.
I'll take death by cirrhosis, slow and as
close as I can to my memory foam bed.

I won a free trip to  Juárez, -
think I'll el pass-o on that.

********

Toads are writing about a place we've never been and would not want to go.

The Missionary Man

Full tilt sprint with the wind at my back

Booty bumping lines off my Daddy's 8-track

Slick silver tongue pierce trailer park trash

Baby got a rash from my gnarly porn-stache.

Dead rabbits, 8-balls and B-52s

My my my my my Boogie shoes

Vinnie Barbarino was Urban Cowboy riding

Fonzie and Chachi had to go into hiding

Clock struck 1990 and Nirvana set us straight

my mullet caught on fire not a moment too late.

Now we laugh at douche-bags and posers on steroids

until Christmas when mom pulls out the family Polaroid's  

******

In retrospect the Toads are writing about living in another time. I chose a rhyme scheme to match the decade.

Ain't Nobody Got Time Fo' That

As the wise Mama Zen says: 

"Poetry on Christmas Day??? Ain't Nobody Got Time Fo' That"

under mistletoe

mama kissed a bad santa

who's the ho ho ho?

What Does the Fox Say? (PG13)

Mama Zen is asking the burning question, "What does the Fox Say?"

I think I found something that can shed some light on this.

Foxy 71 year-old Kelly Fox 

A Foxy Lady walks the walk

and when she talks she talks

the way a Foxy Lady talks.

If you don't like it 

It sucks to be you.

When she says what Foxes say

she says it all with class.

You can watch her walk away

and kiss her rock hard ass.

Spiders

I've been told certain female spiders will eat their mates after sex.

Seems a little extreme ..

but logical.

I'll just take a sandwich,
or a nap,
or more sex.

I wonder what would happen
if a male spider tried that?

Lucky for me I'm scared of spiders.
Probably because I dated so many.

(and I have the chunks out of my ass
to prove it)

On our first date my wife took me
to see Spiderman the Movie.

Hmmmm...

So far she hasn't eaten me
but she's bitten me
and beaten me
in every single game of crib we ever played...

.... and Old Maid

… but I can still beat her in an arm wrestle.

Sometime she hides behind a door 

and then jumps out with a roar.
She tries to make me scream like a little girl.

She's a nerd 

not a spider.

So am I.

I NEVER scream like a little girl.

I scream like a man ... 

a very effeminate man.

Spiders make me scream like a man too.

She laughs at me with my daughters ...
and I can live with that.

(But I'd rather be a Toad - they eat spiders)

Over at the Imaginary Garden, Fireblosom has us revisiting one of our favourites from our own poetry. It didn't take me long to figure out which one I wanted to share. I was just reading this one today. It is the first Poem I posted when I started sharing with the Real Toads in June this year. (I get the feeling that there may be a few spiders in the garden.)

Hero to Most

A Hero to most 

A Villain to some

The poems he wrote 

The songs that he sung

Some things he did

can't be undone

He broke a few rules

but man he had fun

Mexican Radio

and a pirated signal

singing for pesos

and dancing flamenco. 

Will they remember

the bad or the good?

Oh Lord don't let him
be misunderstood.

A Hero to most 

A Villain to some

The poems he wrote 

The songs that he sung

The Friday Challenge is to write a poem about beloved Toad "Hero-to-most" (aka Corey Rowley). 

I  am not a Read Toad myself. I'm more of a fly on the wall. I have gotten to know his work over the nine months I have been posting in the Garden and I have visited his blog "Mexican Radio" many times. From what I can gather he likes classic rock, mexico, drinking and he roots for the underdog. My Poem reflects this - I threw in a a cool version of a classic Eric Burden song for good measure.