Thursday, February 27, 2014

Bed And Breakfast


Bed And Breakfast





Stones in the bowl
breakfast of nails,
sun on the roof,
time off the rails.

Flies in the soup,
bright knife in the back;
you can sell your soul but
your bones turn black.

Dust for your tea, 
tar sand in your bed;
it's too late now
to sleep or get fed.


~February 2014








55 dessicated environmental disasters for     the g-man
(count includes title)


California is currently in a state of severe drought, something we dustbowl refugees can always relate to--there's a storm headed their way this weekend though, so hopefully things will turn out to be less grim than this poem, which reflects a larger state of dysfunction.








Image, Folsom Lake, by Associated Press, via Huffington Post






19 comments:

  1. Love this poem, Joy, and I'm with you in hoping for relief for California.
    K

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  2. I love when you rhyme. Wanna protest with me at Cushing?

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    1. Do we get to bring handguns? It's our second amendment right, after all.

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    2. Love, love, love this piece.

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  3. yikes...when all else fails...i was wondering at the selling of the soul line...when push comes to shove and all is turning to dust...i wonder how many would cash that in...the state of dysfunction def goes much much larger.

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  4. I never knew about the drought ~ Here we are numbed with winter cold ~ I specially like this:

    Dust for your tea,
    tar sand in your bed ~

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  5. I can almost taste the dust, that's how good this poem is.

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  6. Is this on the same block as Hotel California
    This sounds like some sort of Incantation.
    A Hedge Witch Incantation.
    Conceived in the bowels of the night
    Crafted on the Hubs of Hell
    Loved your Jibberish 55
    Thanks for playing and confusing...You Rock!
    Have a Kick Ass Week-End

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  7. Oh dear. Too tired to fully comment but there is dryness indeed. But not in tne poet's fecundity. k.

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  8. I feel for them, even if they do insist that we can't use our water because they need it downstream.

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  9. Whew Bleak! Dust and nails and- oh dear...Better change our tune soon!

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  10. Every line is a poem in its own right. The whole packs a huge punch.

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  11. It is POURING DUMPING CRAZY (for California) raining right now. The chimes are rattling like dice in a casino, and the wet tumbling like drinks... in the casino. Hmm. Well, we do gamble out here, don't we? Would love to hear you read this, Joy ~

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    1. I'm glad you're getting deluged, M, though I hope nothing major or life-threatening washes off in the flood. I need to do something about my SoundCloud, which I have almost used up--I hate to pay for an originally free recording ap, cuz I'm cheap.

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    2. I've seen some other choices out there - KB and Ron Shields have some other app they're using. I'll ask. Can you 'game' SC by using a different email address and username? Oh, the rain is making driving miserable. Socal drivers are idiots to begin with (raises hand) but add wet roads and poor visibility to the already insane texting and tailgating at speed? Be on the lookout for the inevitable crash reports... ~

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    3. I've thought about it--I use Facebook to sign in, so possible I could try a new 'me' and see how it goes. I know there are other options but have lacked the motivation to dig them up because I hate learning new software, and I'm still being traumatized on a daily basis by Windows H8.

      Yes, we've already seen some hellacious crash footage--it's like here when we get a drop of ice or sleet on a bridge or something--it looks like a Dirty Harry car chase.exploded on I-35. Take care, M.

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  12. So tragic when everything dries up. Love the rhythm to this poem though.

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'Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance' ~Carl Sandburg