Bopping and Blogging Time After Time

HEY NOW❗️

WHAT’S GOING ON
I agree that most
GIRLS JUST WANT TO HAVE FUN.

Maybe One Girl doesn’t, but
SHE’S SO UNUSUAL and
SHE BOPS all day.
Which I can only aspire to!

And let’s not forget that
I have a ONE TRACK MIND❗️
So I’ll probably be Bopping Myself soon, too.

Or at least I hope so.
THAT’S WHAT I THINK anyway.

So, I’m hoping you’ll have a
CHANGE OF HEART.

If you recall,
The last time we were “Together”,
I DROVE ALL NIGHT,
ALL THROUGH THE NIGHT

To get to You,
Many times and
On Multiple occasions.

Regardless of what happens,
I’M GONNA BE STRONG.

However, I’m currently experiencing A Popularity Bonanza,
Which doesn’t change the fact that:
MONEY CHANGES EVERYTHING.

Just as I’ve predicted
TIME AFTER TIME.

Money adds fuel to latent behaviors,
Releasing TRUE COLORS info the Atmosphere
On a daily basis.

THAT’S WHAT I THINK
All over again.

At least according to
My Own Opinion, So Unusual.

EXORCISING MONSTERS

One poem led to the next today. You can see it in the last 3 especially. Which is unusual – even for a Weirdo like me.


EXORCISING MONSTERS

Efforts spent on Effervescence
Returning Yields much High Investment.
Once Erased or Out of focus,
Under-beds, when Freed of Monsters
Thoughts Untangled freely Wander
Aimlessly amble;
Freely Wonder
Far away from the Black Hole
Of “Terribilities” up below.
When thick enough to face your fears
And See What Lies Beneath Your Tears,
You’ll soon Crush with ALL YOUR Strength,
Pull the Stops and Go the Lengths,
Fearless Fears You’ll Push Against,
Escaping; Nothing Terrifies!
So Whole is Your Piece of Mind.

THOUGHT BUBBLES… All The Way Up

Inspiration seems to be the Inspiration today❣️

THOUGHT BUBBLES…ALL THE WAY UP:
“Inner Effervesce”

Can’t build Art from Artifice:
The only schools for birthing fish
Are Seas of Vulnerability.
In depths You’ll find the Muse You Hide.
Stimulates Your Softer Side,
Releasing Secrets Trapped Inside.
Unleashed freedom gives Free Reign,
Bouncing UnBoxed Jack Away,
Loosing Inner Effervescence;
Bubbled Thoughts have Much To Say!

Sibilance and Alliteration

How do you like the way this reads?

SO SIBILANT!

I say Word-Sound Repetition
Sets Above from Competition;
Such as stuff like SIBILANCE:
Sounds sounding soundingly,
Sometimes used strategically,
Written words repeatedly.

Brains Sing Sounds Annoyingly,
So You would most assuredly
Be put off by My Poetry;
Particularly the Poetic
And “Repetive”
Ploys which I Refer
Plus also Plot
And then Prefer
To play in Perpetuity.

Or perhaps My Love’s Alliteration
And my Hate The Consternation
Of the Constant Compilation
Of Varied Verbal Iterations
Required to simply Clarify
The Vagaries I’m Blurred Behind?

Your Well-informed Guess Defies
Remembered Answers I can’t Find
All Access in Recent Years
Has Recently Been Denied.

RECIPE FOR A POETIC SOUL


I. MUST BE

•Fully right-brain
•Fully left-brain
•Overly-Sensitive to Light
•Unafraid of the Dark

II. MUST POSSESS

1. A PAST Littered With:
•Mistakes
•Traumas
•Regrets
•Memories of Extasy

2. A PRESENT Marked By:
•Pervasive, Persistent Longing
•Innumerable Unmet Needs
•Building Frustration
•Mounting Tension
•Growing Childishness, and an
•Increasing Focus Inwards.

3. A FUTURE Colored by:
•Tides not Turning
•Limited Options
•Fear and Loathing Everywhere
•Faded Beauty, and
•An Inability to Dream Anymore

III: MUST HAVE

•Broad Vocabulary
•Limited Resources
•Hungry Heart
•Thirsty Soul

BAKE FOR AT LEAST 25 YEARS IN TEMPS AS HOT AS HELL (or 900 degrees, to be safe).

The poem’s UNIQUITY


Mine seem to come to me either fully formed,
as if speaking to me through a voice in my head,
or they’re rooted in the flow of inspiration,
where I use a little more deliberation and playfulness.
I think they both make good poems.
every single poem is unique. other poem writers might have the same message and say it differently
or say similar words differently
or the same words extra-consecutively,
so that makes each poem wholly and completely unique.
No one could ever say what you do
the way you do
like you do
how you do
as you do
when you do
just like you
other than you
in your own special way
every single time.
and as far as I’m concerned:
that is the definition of UNIQUITY

THIS IS WHERE I WRITE MY TREATS

Let me introduce you to my dining room:
It’s where I write my poems for You
When I find I’m not supine,
Crafting kernels in my mind
All the day and through the night;
Composing even when I lie
In bed and Grub the song that beckons me,
Woos me ever-noisily,
Gurgles stand me up to seek
Out some fuel till I concede:
“OKAY! I guess I need to Eat!”
This fix fills temporarily,
So I don’t wanna burn my time
On trifles like the food I buy.
The option I prefer the best?
Surprise! I’ve learned to multitask!
Now when I search out my words,
Food’s the only lover spurned;
Ignored in ‘waves and on the stove,
Forsaken for these silly poems.
Do you like the toasted treats,
Burnt and frosted prettily,
I’ve whipped up for you to read?

If not, what do you WANT from me?
I’m not a CHEF and words are FREE.

MORE FIRESIDE CHATTER

MORE FIRESIDE CHATTER

Your Reaction doesn’t BURN me away or fill me with FLAME. If anything it ACCELERATES the rate of our Impending INCINERATION.

Perhaps my intentions will catch like WILDFIRE and reduce you to a pile of CINDER?

Or maybe The Undesirable Desires of my Heart are marked only by a final WET blanketing the last CHOKED, Oxygen-Starved BILLOW

Of pulverized ASH; once Life, now masquerading as SMOKE?

*when FIRE is the inspiration

Most Frequented Metaphor

If there’s ONE metaphor I overuse, it’s a TIE.

“Blood” [and its derivatives and iterations] are a distant second to “Fire” and it’s HUNDREDS of “related words.”

In fact, I can barely write a SINGLE POEM without one of them. Like most people, I associate Fire with Destruction, but I also associate it with Freedom. Hence the term “burning bridges.”

I’ve written TWO POEMS about Burning Bridges ALONE in the last 2 weeks!

I think I NEEDED to Burn.
There really wasn’t an alternative if I wanted to Taste Freedom again. And I couldn’t get the bitter Ash of Other Peoples’ Judgment OUT OF MY DAMNED MOUTH.

What about you? What’s your most frequented Metaphor?

WHY WRITE A POEM?

I’M VERY INTERESTED IN THE TOPIC OF WHY/HOW OTHER POEMWRITERS BEGIN A New POEM.

HERE’s THE SCENARIO FOR ME:
• I talk to myself out loud A LOT sometimes, especially since I’m not disturbing anyone. Eventually… it might take a while, but not usually… I actually hear myself saying something (possibly THINKING; it’s become difficult to distinguish)
• So impossibly CLEVER, PROFOUND, or CUTE,
• I’m forced to stop EVERYTHING to find the iPhone12 Mini in my hand
• To open the Notes or the WordPress app and whip up and out a poem. Cooking times vary like my moods,
wildly (or “VERY vary!).

<<Side Note: Once I start a poem, only a Tsunami or an Earthquake could stop me, and even then, I doubt it! I wish I was this industrious about opening my mail and paying my bills! Apologies for the “Aside.” Is it technically an “Aside” or a “Tangent”? Input appreciated.>>

• Regardless of the APP, I first post it here. Immediately.
• I never “sleep on it,” ask someone else to review it, or even read it to my dog first, having fully admitted to my Frequent Aloneness and difficulty Delaying Gratification (which, admit it, is an UNFORTUNATE combination!).
• Anyway, my Childlike Enthusiasm and Reckless Impulsiveness lead to MULTIPLE revisions, down to the semicolon – ESPECIALLY the semicolons – until I’m finally satisfied and everyone’s already read it. Even so, once I’m happy, I like to go back to admire my handiwork;
• Too frequently, probably.
Though maybe there’s no such thing as “too frequently” when it comes to visiting your kids?

ONLY SOMETIMES


Sometimes when I read the poems I place here, I think: Man, this is the most amazing-yet-undiscovered talent!

She’s just sitting here, obscurely shining like one of those Rocks that actually end up being Emeralds on Antiques Roadshow.

If she doesn’t get recognition on This Side of Life, she’ll certainly get it posthumously. Word of Her Work will catch flame to the extent it becomes MANDATORY reading for 10th graders everywhere (including Mars) by 2062.

They’ll be so progressive by then, they won’t even edit the spicy ones out.

Other times, I just want to puke.

RAP OUT MUSIC

The only thing I can’t do in my karaoke performances, other than carry a tune, is force my lips to follow quick words.

So rap songs are OUT for me;
Though I’ve grown to see the beauty there,
Alive and Wild and True-to-Heart,
Where Before I never thought to Look.

TRUST YOU??


You plead with Me to Trust
You won’t Crush and Leave Me
Yesterday, a Heap of Dust
Swirls and Heaves Me
Back when You
Gave up on Us.
Please forgive if Pleas
Fall upon my so deaf ears,
It seems my Ears No Longer hear
The Lies that Ooze so unctuously
With facile, fancy Ease
From Mouths which I still Fear.

IN TO ME


What has gotten INTO ME?
My output’s not Reflecting Me.
And, all things considering,
I find MY contemplating
If I should seek out
Brand New Source
Hunt it Down, Run its Course
Or Cut and Paste,
Paste and Glue
Words already
Written out for You?

Love Letter to Musicians & Other Artists


So glad the Possibility
Exists to Pass from YOU to ME
The Locus Deep within your soul
That’s Home to Many, Multi Hues
Which color Creativity,
Releasing Notes so Buttery
Newly birthed to Effervesce
And Love me with a distant Kiss
Fingers Snapped for all to Crack
Lay down as the Background Track,
Then set about to commence tapping,
Loosing, Ripping, Tearing Free,
Igniting, Lifting, Rising from
Somewhere Someplace Inside of Me
Crowds of Falling, Stumbling, Pulsing, Pounding,

But Still Dancing Feet.

(Thanks for the photo, @kkipras)