Paper Dolls

Broken suns splice tree branches
 into shadows
and I’m left standing here
on this plane
of eternal autumn,
to find sanctuary,
careful not to make contact,
a ripple that no one sees
and afraid of fear, acceptance
To be charismatic and beatific
is to be found in teeth.
and pure bliss?
Only exists in my imagination.

So in this nightmare
I drown in the Xi over and over again
looking for a friend
but will settle for a savior. Glory in the saved.
Behold, there’s more! There’s always more

The time is now to destroy and renew
fire intertwined with ice
passion shimmering false-
fool’s gold, zirconia
love affair with daydreams.

Through the tempest
the incendiary revocation
leaves my fingers bleeding
fire, jealousy, sadness
invites the intrusion
of a voice
who wants a home made of paper
and says Maybe I could love
somebody who never said ‘I love you’

Haunted by all those voices
yet alone
to build
serendipitous sand castles on the sun
while the moon falls apart
takes back its magic
and takes me back
to nowhere and nothing. 

Shadow Weaver

Don’t enter the canal
where the golden gondolas
drift in murky water
mosquitoes gallop
malaria races through their
frail long-legged bodies
Egyptian cotton in the pillows
pink pills on the satin sheets
the smoking moon sleeps in cobwebs
with ladybugs who should be gone.

And this is
where autumn turns
to summer heat
black lipstick on the cheek
those yesterdays are just an update
ants in the glass.

Welcome to here
sign your name and watch all the stars go out
blackness eats
away from the canal
to the lilies where freedom breathes
phosphorescent daydreams
deja vu at the table

it’s an all-out surrender to shadows
come on and feel their embrace
feel the flight in murky water fingers
let them breath stale whispers
and follow the light home

Sweet Dreamland Wheels by JM Scott Free in all Kindle Markets Through June 1, 2019

Hey all, Sweet Dreamland Wheels is FREE in all Kindle markets through June 1, 2019. This is a collection of found and/or experimental poems.

As I was grabbing the link for the book, I realized this book was turning 4 this June. It seems a lot longer than that. But I think I move on a different timeline than other people. At least it seems like it.

So here's a free sample from the book where I used HP Lovecraft as a source text.

Ascendant

I have the moon
and walked to the city
of dawn. Shadowed lamp
light against the blue
sky gravel.
So I look for synthetic
destiny under the textured
copper beach wood.
On the horizon altar
the crow holds the seraphim
talisman while mangroves
lay unfolded. The right hand
star spreads across succulent
meadow rivers and I grasp
for the light rope dangling
from the peach cumulus.

Driving on a Mountain Road at Night

The Alleghenies
spring green and purple petals
storms in mist. Night falls
an eighteen-wheeler brakes hard,
a doe struggles to stand.

***
Hey all, here is a poem 30 and the end of NaPoWriMo for 2019. What a whirlwind of the month. The prompt for today was to write a short poem. This is a tanka and was inspired by events that I experienced today.

Vespers

The monopoly magician stands
 in the tiger lily field, wields
ultraviolet and pushes
pollen to Sunday

I pluck a black rose, volts
course through my quartz
heart. Atop the watchtower
the valporate jelly fools
the magician’s logic.

A language wave
a lux worship
a burning spring
absolute gold
sunset me and the magician
fall away.

***
Here is poem 29, another search poem. I can't believe this month is almost over. I've written some good poems and not so good poems. But at least I wrote poems.

Find more poets at NaPoWriMo

Universe

***

Here is poem 28, I couldn't think of a meta poem to write today. So I did a blackout poem from Eureka  by Edgar Allan Poem.  Check out other poets at NaPoWriMo 

Today, I finally finished the first draft of Suburban Vampires.  I am looking forward to revising it and uploading the entire thing to Watt Pad. I am hoping to post in October. 

Woods Lost

The book-elf myth trowels conjugations
and the sun-hydrant oath inks amnesty.
I buy the honeydew totem yet the twin wine
weeps superior land. Who buys the monastery?
Hustle-moths revolt and sew the blue tin
featherbed. I eat air, roar,  and ascend. Ethylene
endows wheat donuts. Hut hens twitch mint-gin
prisms and iced tree harmonies fend cane.
Monks vow hell-law through decayed teeth. Lux
provokes the earthly mini bees
In the forum café, harmony-freedom frets syntheses,
the wet-ash injuries hit high-trade telemetry.

I am the obscene sun that dotes on a seminal rain
twirling guilt on an ion hike to kidnap acorns.

***
I suppose I should have read the prompt earlier because I liked it so much, I decided to do it. However, poems like these take a lot of revision to make it something more...  The prompt was to remix one of Shakespeare's sonnets. I chose CXXXIX (Call me not the justify the wrong).  Then I took each line and ran it through an anagram generator.  Once it was done, it needed a lot of revision; I added words, changed parts of speech, etc. I like how it turned it. It's a lot of fun to read out loud. Go on, take a read.

Dog Days

Nectar, ambrosia, and the forgotten scythe
in the summer dream glade
frost gathers on the wild growth
I’m tempted to turn and linger.

In the summer glade
dragonflies and fireflies dance and drink
I’m tempted to turn and linger
with wandering propagation

Dragonflies and fireflies dance and drink
to cicada and cricket chorus
With wandering propagation,
my scion spirt is strewn with windfalls.

To the cicada and cricket chorus
I relive summer prizes, peaches, and penance.
My scion spirit is strewn with windfalls
among nectar ambrosia and the forgotten scythe.

***
Hey all, this is poem 26 and I followed the prompt and tried out a new form, the pantoum. I also like this form and may use for my annual Christmas poem. I suppose I am on a  surreal kick at the moment. But honestly, I love surrealism and enjoy writing it, no matter what form it takes.

Suburban Vampires is almost done! Just one more chapter to write.  I am so glad that the first draft is going to be done. I am looking forward to revising it. I have grown so much as a writer from when I first started it. Much of the beginning needs a massive overhaul.

Edict

Alone in the woods,
the blind oracle
waits at the hidden harbor
with incessant anxiety

What demon possessed me?
I promised to pay
the nutshell of civility
my consequent luxury
was time to be a machine
I was alone with the oracle.

The sun rose clear
without proof. The smoke
of opinion ripens
the hemlock, oak, maple,
spruce, elm, and birch.

“The stars are the apexes
of what wonderful triangles,”
she said, dilated the atmosphere
and faded into tangerine light
Yes, it is I replied
alone in the woods.


***
This is poem 25. I wasn't feeling the prompt today, so I decided to use another found poem method, I selected words and phrases from a source text. I used On Walden Pond by Henry David Thoreau. Most words in this poem came from the first few pages in my Kindle edition. The only part in the poem with quotation marks is a direct sentence, word for word from the text. Love, love that line.

Find more great poets at NaPoWriMo.

Witch Hazel

Mercury’s facade
burns the eyes of proximities
as I shift trade routes.
I’m the genesis array
with golden antidifference.

***
Here is poem 24. A day late- I was going to write one last night but I found myself floating in space. I sort of followed the prompt. I used the random feature on Wikipedia and wrote down words and phrases to make a word bank. Then I decided to write a tanka with it.

I have another to write for the day; I will be caught once again. Just five more days...

Roanoke

From the ivy terrace
I eat blood
orange slices,
while old men play
dominoes on the rusty
shark cage

doll eyes tumble
in the blue-green roulette
wheel. And no one seems
to see the saltwater cowboy
decoy or the burning
hollow tree.

The media calls
for a matron wrapped
in corona as hazard
buoys free
themselves and drift
toward smokey stars.

***
Here is poem 23, and I caught up. Good thing. Today, I did another search poem. I had some trouble creating a word bank and went through several combinations before I got a large enough word bank. As I was reading over it doing some edits and revisions, this poem made me think of Roanoke- as in Roanoke, NC. I don't know why but thought it was a good title. Find more great poets NaPoWriMo.

I also made a huge jump in Suburban Vampires.  Technically, I have 8 more pages to write to "win" but, it would be great to finish it. I don't have a lot more chapters to write. If I keep working on a chapter on a day, I should finish the entire thing by the end of April.

Gale

Cape Cod Evening by Edward Hooper
Image retrieved from the
 National Gallery of Art,
Washington DC

He’s a working man
not paid enough for long hours
building boats he’s never going
to sail for the white Victorian
in Cape Cod.

She’s an unhappy woman
with her children living
their own lives, wanting
more than taking care
of the white Victorian
in Cape Cod.

The collie stands
in autumn seagrass
watching sparrows seek
shelter from the eastward
storm at the white Victorian
in Cape Cod.

They all wait
for the lightning strike
for the thunder growl
for the rain to finally fall
on the white Victorian
in Cape Cod.

***
Hey all, here is poem 22, an ekphrastic poem, which somewhat follows the prompt for the day. Once I complete my current poetry project, One Book, 300 Poems, a Pinterest exclusive project featuring blackout and whiteout poetry from the same book, I plan on working on a series of ekphrastic poems using artwork from new artists on Etsy. That won't be for a while since I have about a year or two to finish the current project.

Anyway, I love Edward Hooper. He's one of my favorites in addition to Van Gogh and Dali. There's something peaceful about his paintings. But there's more to them. I can look at them for a while just taking it all in. When I went to the National Gallery of Art website to find open source images, I was delighted to see two Edward Hoopers. I had a hard time choosing which one.

I got one more to catch up on. Find more great poets at NaPoWriMo

State of Nowhere

Through the pink rose hallway
in the gray apartment building in
the gray and broken down city,
lions whisper from wall holes.

Circular stairs always in motion
spinning like a tornado
in the winter snow.

A hand grabs my own.
There’s nothing to see
but everything to feel
the floor exhales
an icy mist and the hallway
freezes and collapses into a whole.

Sirens in the distance,
screams nearby
the staircase stops spinning
and going up leads to going
down the hand that is still
there in the blue and amethyst
swamp.

I stop to rest close my eyes
and still see as the diamond
crashes over me, the sky changes
to pink, the world stops
and gawks, mouth wide
swallowing frogs.

***
Here is poem 21 a surrealist poem which follows the prompt. I do love writing surrealism poems. Many of my poems do fall into surrealism in one way or another.

As I write this it is 12:45 a.m. which means I have day 22 and day 23 to do; I will work on them tomorrow.

Read more great poets at NaPoWriMo.

So I Did

I read on the news and knew that guy
so I did
wash the clothes and let them dry in the sun
so I did
fix the muffler and I told him not to do that
so I did

but you know how that is right it’s the same
thing different day and shit rolls downhill

so I did
I went to the grocery store and bought
dollar blackberries
They were from Mexico and tasted American
and made a cobbler
so I did.

But you know how that is
you never know which way is up
until you smell shit.

I read the news and discovered
the world is full of idiots
and falling apart
so I did.

***
Hey all, here is poem 20. I still have 2 more to do. I am trying to catch up but I was hit with a migraine earlier. It is starting to subside, so let's have hope.

I followed day 20's prompt for the most part using the phrase "so I did." I can't think of the grammar name for it but it is a popular Appalachian vernacular phrase that people say after they tell a story. The reiterate they did something by saying "so I did."

Zenolith

All I wanted was
Butterflies and bread and to ride a
Camel at the state fair. I
Didn’t how far
Elephants traveled toward
Freedom. I fell through the
Ground and came out the other end,
Heaven took my hand and shook me around.
I walked to the edge of the horizon
Jumped into the sky and stole the dragon
Kite. Later, as I opened my eyes, I
Lost the happy humdrum
Moan of the universe. So it was
Night. The stars, the planets, and the moon
Opalize against the dark denim sky
Parakeets and parrots sing sad
Quantum songs unseen from
Red rose bushes. I thought about
Sunday adventures and tea
Time with the elf queen. I
Understood the debutante
Vespers of adulthood,
Wrapped in glass paper, a
Xenolith of time and compression. In the end,
You and I just words turned to stories turned to
Zeros over the vast grey Atlantic.

***
Here is poem 19. I am a few days behind. I actually started this on Friday while at my dad's house, but then never finished it. So today, I am going to try and catch up on all the poems and work on Camp.

This poem is an abecedarian poem. The lines are in alphabetical order but there are several ways to write one of these. It was the prompt for the day and decided to try it out since I never wrote one.

Today- April 18, 2019

lost in make believe
there’s no way out– fake terror
the alarm rescues

blue sky, green grass
rabbits and robins bring spring
I walk barefoot

Yellow moon
behind the night clouds
a lonesome owl hoots

***

Here is poem 18. Well, that's not entirely true because there are three haiku. However, all of that happened today.  You don't typically title haiku, but since I was posting on the blog I had to come up with something. Fun fact- Grammarly approves of haiku since it doesn' want to fix all the line breaks so the words don't have extra spaces, but seems to dislike free verse poems.

Anyway find more great poets at NaPoWriMo

Black Nectar

I start as a cherry
on a green bush
in Columbia. Sweet, juicy
and red under the hydrogen
and helium sun.

Then like a birth
9 months later,
I’m plucked, roasted,
beat down,
packed, and sent away.

My bits
as fine as coke powder
intermingle with thousands
others in a basket and scorched
with boiling water

Just so you can stay awake through rush hour.
Just so you can have endorphins course
through your body as you read your poems.

And I’m done with– discarded
with banana peels.
I never did see Paris.

***
Wowee, I caught up for the time being. Here is poem 17. I followed the prompt which you can read here if you want. I wasn't going to follow the prompt, but then I looked at the steaming cup of coffee sitting on my desk and the poem naturally came.

I also reached the midpoint of Suburban Vampires. I have the rest of novel sort of planned and I hope that I finish the rough draft this month. It is a little short but that will be remedied when it comes to revisions.

Modern Folk on the Metro

She said, “...frozen tuna warnings...” on the Metro to her phone, twirling her fake blonde hair.
He said, “... secret military ops in Africa ...” on the Metro in his sleep.
She read, “...40 million cyber attacks...” on the Metro to her blind mother.
He dictated, “...rebuild the cathedral of damage...” on the Metro to his iPhone, his tie blue with Mickey ears.
She said, “...president doesn’t regret tweeting 9/11...” on the Metro to her Youtube audience.
He said, “...destroyed in the explosion...” on the Metro to his guy friend in a skirt.
She said, “...photos of the refreshed...” on the Metro to her girlfriend done up in bright makeup.
He said, “...pitches policies to the rust belt...” on the Metro in his phone, his press pass falls to the floor.
She wrote, “...relics rescued by flames...” on the Metro on a beaten top spiral bound notepad.
He signed, “...the black diamond...” on the Metro to his brother who looked at the guy in the skirt.
She screamed, “...throw out this vegetable...” on the Metro to us, tossing her eggplant to the empty seat.
He repeated, “...disfigured tears and shock....” on the Metro from his audiobook.
She drew the words, “...inviting abuse for Easter...” on the Metro  on a blank sheet of paper in calligraphy which made it look prettier than the words themselves
He texted, “...capture intelligence squad...” on the Metro to someone called Bob
They chanted, “...we need to demonize...” on the Metro to each other but loud enough so we can hear and join in if we like.
I said, “...consider liquidating hometown...” on the empty Metro car.

***
So here is poem 16. I sort of followed the prompt which was to make a list poem that "defamiliarizes the mundane." All the words in quotes came from Yahoo News (I accessed it today April 17, 2019) and I wrote down a phrase found in order from a particular headline. For example in line three I have "rebuild the cathedral of damage." the actual headline reads "Norte Dame Blaze: Emmanuel Marcon vows to rebuild Paris cathedral as scale of damage emerges."

Once I collected my bits. I made a scene with them and all the people on the Metro. When I wrote this, I was imagining the  Washington DC public transport since I spent the most time on that Metro system. But you can imagine any metro you want.

I am pleased with how this poem turned out. Now, I just need to write today's poem and work on Camp. Find more awesome poets at NaPoWriMo

Fidelity Carmichael Takes a Stand

Who was I last week?
Just another quiet student
with five friends at Milton’s
School (the number one boarding
school for at-risk teens– and according
to their brochure and I quote “Troubled
teens, poor teens, all the disenfranchised
can attend this school free of charge
and be better off”) tucked away
in the Pennsylvania mountains. I was also
poor and my share of run-in with cops
and fifteen. But a lot can happen in a week.

Our days are structured– like prison or the army
we have very little free time in the yard so to
speak. It was Tuesday after dinner, which
was mystery meat and rubber noodles draped
in ketchup. They call it spaghetti, and I wondered
if prisoners have better food. I guess I shouldn’t
complain too much at least it was food more than
what I got most days from home. Back to Tuesday,
I was in my room working on my homework.
My roommate was busy sketching on her bed.
The PA system cackled and the headmaster
said, “All students please go to your common
room.” Weird but maybe the teachers were
going to give us another surprise pep talk.
You know the type–  you guys are awesome
and we believe in you. You might not
appreciate what we do, but you will
one day– when you’re older and better off.

My roommate grunted and tossed her book
to the side. The halls were filled
with chatter and laughter. We had no idea
what was going on in the world. TV time
was on Saturdays and the first to the common
room got to choose what to watch. Depending
on who it is, it could be rom coms all day
or cartoons, arty farty films that made no sense,
random reality tv. No news.
The common room was large and had enough
seating for all the everyone in our wing. Plenty
of books, arts and crafts, and games.

Our wing parent stood in her white bathrobe
and had the news on. “Come in girls
and watch.” Her eyes were red and puffy
She shook under her robe like she saw a ghost
or someone she knew died.  Our eyes
turned to the TV. The reporter had the
same look in her eyes.  Air raid sirens
blared in the background and almost
covered her voice “We have reports
that Philadelphia was hit.” She spoke
from a studio somewhere and then there
was no news. The TV went to snow.

All at once the chatter started. What happened?
What did she mean Philadelphia was hit? Is my
mom okay? Can I call her? What happened
Miss Garvey? What happened out there? Who did
this? Kelly, my best friend, and also from Philadelphia
grabbed my hand. Whatever happened out there
in Philadelphia we both knew were orphans now.
We just had each other. I felt like I should be
crying. But I couldn’t find the tears. I wanted
to cry for my parents but I couldn’t find
the tears. I wanted to cry for the city I loved,
but I couldn’t find the tears. I was numb, empty,
stunned, shocked, gone.

Classes were canceled.  The school sequestered
from the world. No one allowed to leave. No one
allowed to come. The sky grew blacker and blacker.
We weren’t allowed outside. People complained
at first then when we all realized something terrible
really terrible happened. People cried. Then we were silent.
They tried to keep our minds busy. Offered extra credit
for those who went to class who did homework
who did anything but stay in their beds. I went to class
because I had nothing else. And I hoped to hear things.

But I heard nothing. Time became nothing. I went to bed
late Thursday night and woke up from a nightmare
I don’t remember anything in the dream, I sat up in bed
and screamed. My clothes were drenched in sweat. My heart
raced out of my chest. My roommate tried to turn
on the light. “I guess the power’s out. Are you okay?
You need me to get Miss Garvey for you?”
“I’ll be okay. Go back to sleep.”
It was just a nightmare after all. Restless and bothered
I walked the halls in the dark. She was right the power
was out. The hallways always were lit. But I could
see in the dark with perfect clarity. I made it to the bathroom
and threw cold water on my face. My reflection in the mirror
was not of Bloody Mary but me. Happy Birthday, I told myself
I wandered the halls until sunrise. In the distance
of the rising blackened sun,
I heard engines, tires and heavy equipment.

Out the window from the second floor, it looked like
the army was coming for us. Why I had no idea. We were
safe here. Our building was large and all connected.
We had plenty of food to last for months according
to the headmaster whom I heard talking to another
wing parent. One wing parent begged to bring her
mother. And the headmaster shook his head and
said he couldn’t let her go. Without power or structure,
others heard them coming. The hallways filled with
students looking out the window. More disjointed chatter.

Are they going to help us? Are they here to make sure
we’re okay? Help is coming. I didn’t think we need help.
Because I was no one special– like an unloved ghost
I pushed my way through and made it to the main entrance.
The headmaster was there. His face long and sad. He held
a bullhorn. He wore his normal clothes but they were disheveled
like he slept in them.

He unlocked the door and went out and I followed. No one
stopped me. I guess there were more important things
to worry about but then a thought hit me. Like a voice
that was mine but none. They can’t see you yet. I
shook my head. I followed the headmaster down
to the gate. A man got out of a Jeep wearing a yellow
radioactive suit but had his hood off.

“Thank god you’re here,” The headmaster started.
“Are we evacuating? Do you have any news to share
with us?” The man in charge spoke on the other side
of the gate, “We are here for your boys over the age of 15.”
“What?” The headmaster asked. The other man produced
a sheet of paper and slipped it through
the bars. “That is signed from the president.
We are to take boys aged 16 and older for
immediate conscription into the United States
military.”
“They are just children,” the headmaster said.
“Sir, this would be easier if you just bring us
the boys and we will be on our way.  We
are under martial law now. You don’t want
to lose the others do you? We are authorized
to take what we need with whatever
force I think is necessary.”

They can’t take them. They were like me. If
I were born a boy I would be one of them
sent off to a war we didn’t know was happening.
They can’t take the boys. And for some
reason my body shook. I fell to ground but no
one saw. My cells felt like they exploded
and reborn. It seems like it was slow motion
but time for me stopped. I could see them
but they weren’t moving. I was. That same voice
Use it. It’s yours. Use what? I screamed into
the timeless void. The world went black
and when I came to. They were still in position
like I fell in between seconds and stayed there.
As I stood the headmaster shifted his head.
The man in power looked at me. “How long
have you been there, girl?” He said his brown eyes
burrowing into mine.

“You will not take them,” I said cool, unphased
like I was the one in power. Who was this person?
Had I finally snapped? “Fidelity be a good girl
and go back inside,” the headmaster said.
“What did you say?” the man in power asked.
“You will not take them,” I said once again.
Then it felt like electricity gathered in my body
the wind started to shriek and howl. Black hail
rained from the black clouds. I was filled with
electricity Magic the voice in my head said once
again. I slammed my hands down to the ground
and a white dome spread from impact. It knocked back
the men outside their army trucks. The dome grew
encompassed the school grounds, the boundary
of it at the fence. The man in power
gave an order and they started shooting
bullets at the dome but it didn’t crack.

The headmaster grabbed my arm and I let
him lead me back to the school. Where they waited
with their mouths open. The army shot at us
for another hour and then they were gone.
The headmaster let us outside the dome
held in place. The air fresh and clean
the scant light reflected through the white dome
creating rainbows in every corner.

This week, I am not just another
student but someone with respect
someone revered, better than I was.
I am 16 and I am a witch, just trying
to protect my new family, my community
the only way I don’t really know how.


***
Hey all,  here is poem 15. I know I far behind. I was inspired by the prompt for the day, but I need more time to let the idea percolate. Yesterday, was a bad brain day. I felt like there was this thick fog wrapped around my brain. Needless to say, I didn't get anything done including Camp. So I am going to try to catch up on everything today.