Fork And Other Poems, Page 2

  inside of me –

  stretching, swelling,

  bursting from my hands, my mouth

  like the sudden impact

  of a high velocity fruit -

  a disgorging swamp

  as I try and pick

  and scrape together

  a palatable salad

  or clear brush,

  hoping for a nice family picnic

  just beyond the muck....

  I skim her slim volume again and flush -

  a sudden bouquet

  overflowing the arms,

  tickling the nose

  of this aging bridesmaid with few

  or no prospects.

  New Year's Resolution

  Such diligent persistence

  this act of not quitting

  a repetitive, rhythmic

  slap, slap

  as you turn and work

  a machine in constant motion.

  A little faster and you think

  you can reach that comfort

  of doing – just doing for doing's sake

  if only for an instance,

  or perhaps for a moment

  of exhilaration

  evocative action

  evoking something more

  some thing, some place

  else just at the edge

  of your vision,

  your voice proclaiming

  that after all

  this work

  is really not working,

  this means really is

  empty of all meaning -

  the kick slap slowing down

  all motto'd out,

  fatigue making cowards of us all,

  and you think a well rounded person

  would surely never be so obsessed

  as to trot in place

  so simply, so single mindedly

  like a dog tethered to a treadmill.

  How quickly you forget

  the weakness, the vulnerability, the pain

  who quite unreasonably

  led the way

  to your only reason

  not to quit,

  peace and stillness through constant pursuit

  of personal truth and rectification,

  your deceptively duplicitous voice

  more correct than its own understanding,

  all of your work and means ponderous

  under the weight of its own portentous unimportance -

  we humans really can get used to anything

  except perhaps the madly flapping,

  kick, slap, pricking talons

  extended, spurring us ever on

  to never let go.

  The sandwich poem

  Laying on the couch,

  the sandwich

  made with

  this thin sliced cheese

  separated by paper,

  now piled in a thick

  stack between

  buttered bread,

  speaks of the artifice

  of boundaries,

  the preordained uselessness of

  divisions.

  How flagrant the tossing

  of these flags:

  le fromage and paper to the garbage,

  le fromage and paper to the garbage -

  taking a bite,

  transforming other into

  the essence of me

  is never guilt free

  and never without rejoinder -

  that joie de vivre

  sensuousness

  of a lemon,

  its sourness

  and bite of

  juiciness,

  your breasts

  just visible

  under your

  nightgown

  as you walk by.

  Fully committed,

  all your weight bearing

  down

  as you step barefoot

  onto a tack or piece of glass -

  the moment of realization

  when you know what's coming

  but you cannot resist the gravity

  of your own momentum

  this must be

  what its like

  at the moment

  of death...

  to sink willingly, fully

  into the unknown

  and not pull away

  to know

  as we exhale

  the last choice -

  that we each get to choose

  our own meaning.

  Of Newtonian physics and entropy

  When you put a human joint

  at a certain, correct angle

  it only takes the pressure,

  the power of a single finger

  to dislocate or break it -

  the elbow, wrist and neck being examples.

  You should also know

  there is a certain amount of pain involved

  before the actual breaking of the joint

  depending upon the amount and type

  of pressure exerted – this ranging from

  twinging, to excruciating, to

  unbearable,

  and one would think that it would be a small matter

  to escape from such a position, and indeed

  you can if you repeat the movements of the manipulation

  backwards, or at times, by not fighting,

  but going with the pain, flipping

  your body over the captured joint, of say a wrist

  or a shoulder,

  and unless you have had the foresight

  or quickness to counter the hold

  ahead of time,

  your only choices: breaking,

  dislocation or subjugation –

  being moved or

  restrained

  through the use of pain

  commonly known as pain compliance -

  the action of your attacker your only other

  recourse,

  for once the attacker through mercy,

  or loss of concentration or fatigue lets up,

  even a little, just for an instant,

  the lock will begin to slip and is

  no longer effective,

  and, as we pointed out before, once applied

  correctly the pressure of a single finger or even

  the strength of a small child

  can cause a break or severe

  dislocation in the strongest of opponents.

  It is of utmost importance

  that when you practice

  you develop power, focus and

  concentration,

  the loss of which

  can lead to serious injury

  and death

  and the knowing

  that the healing of another

  is a much much harder skill

  to master,

  the result of your ignorance often so severe

  it can take a lifetime to heal

  from such a wound.

  Postscript -

  For added poetic significance

  I encourage you to insert any number of objects

  into the roles of attacker and attackee,

  yourself being a good first choice,

  while personified Death, the dramatic and obvious second

  choice is not recommended.

  You should, however, seriously consider the death of a child

  or spouse for its more personal and poignant details.

  Inanimate objects may be used to great effect

  owing to the fact that the subject matter lends itself

  to an edgy darkness- discomfort and pain

  often being used to elevate levity from

  base crassness.

  The use of Nature, though, especially the incorruptible

  indifference of the Universe to what we perceive as our

  most treasured rights, strengths and truths,

  comes highly recommended.

  But personally, I feel it is best to e
xperience

  the perfect poetic resonance

  through the actual doing and feeling of it-

  the you

  bent over, gasping, mouth turning up in disbelief,

  the slow unfolding recognition

  of your reality,

  and you

  looking down,

  perfectly balanced,

  awed by how simple it was when you finally

  get it right

  that the power in this one finger

  is enough for you

  to control

  the universe.

  Come with me sweet

  Come with me sweet before a new age dawns,

  Before the ripe apple falls, encrusted,

  Before the earth draws its mortal savor down,

  Let us kiss and be blessed by the infinite.

  Let us lie ‘neath our cloud covered heaven,

  Unwatched by all in this grass carpet cove,

  Away from street light and talk of morning, love,

  Lie us ‘neath arms of silence’s protection.

  ###

  Connect with Me Online:

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SteveWLavigne