oxidia

your love is like sniffing glue in abandoned playgrounds
your love is like running thru hell with
		naked feet
your love is solving complicated math with broken fingers
		and broken toes 
400 million trillion blackholes in this universe
all of them in denver 
		all your accidents end
in denver, you’ve got asphalt and postcards in your pocket
you’ve got lilacs in your hair 
your love is playing with snakes 
you burn your candle from both ends and the middle 
you burn your candle like you hate candles 
		your love is like a puddle of gasoline
you can swallow your heart and start over  
your bullet holes are filled with black noise 
you can play a blue guitar
a heartbeat and a bruise, a heartbeat and a bruise  
                you can play a green tambourine 
you can play a goddess in a tight sweater and jeans on a mission
from heaven to find reason and ruin in a single drop of rain 
                you can play dumb 
heartbeat and a bruise, heartbeat and a bruise
love is a blue guitar you drag around by the neck
400 million trillion broken hearts in denver
                all of them yours 
you play dirty pool and you’ve got dice up your sleave
your laughter is clattering and witchy and itching all the right spots 
                but your soup is cold 
no one knows where you came from
your star name is papier-mache angel
your earth name is catastrophe spiral 
fate is a chimera 
		you are prodigy of chimera   
your eyes are haunted gloomy kamikazes
you drink kamikazes
you throw kamikazes at everything that gives you pain
your love is throwing side-eye at the world
                your love is a one-eyed horse in a snowstorm 
your love is like rust falling off a truck parked on the side of the road
		next to a junkyard
your love is like looking for a black cat in a dark room that
ran away years ago chasing blackbirds into blackholes in the
		darkness of denver
you love is something
		unspeakable
mythological 
		non-sequitur   
	more than
		and less than
	and other than
		true

posted for shay’s word garden word list

posted for the sunday muse

Ziggy’s Spoken Word Museum

Ziggy’s Spoken Word Museum

Showcasing a wide range of poetry through the medium of “spoken word”, any poem that is spoken outload, sung, chanted, cried-out or howled. This is a database of sound recordings and videos by Spoken Word Artists, in their own words, modern and old, all styles and modes, for your listening pleasure…

Including: Maya Angelou, Jack Kerouac, Mary Oliver, Billy Collins, Joy Harjo, Carl Hancock Rux (featured above) and more, I’m always adding more.

Listen to poems from poets you would not normally think of as “spoken word”, hear them from a new perspective.

If you like this idea and would like to add a poet/artist to Ziggy’s list, just let me know!

Ziggy’s Spoken Word Museum

attack of the babbling acrobats (3rd draft)

(for all the fringe artists out there feeling a little beat-up)

acrobats
damn those goofy fools
and their rubber bones
who drag their wild weather
wherever they go 
so ferociously flexible
so transcendental  
        so rude

acrobts are the leading cause of jungle gyms, 
       giggle-ism and restless leg syndrome 

acrobats are like sugary snacks, they’ll ruin your dinner 
       evil playmates who eat birthday cake 
       all year long

worst of all, acrobats will steal your tv, so easily
and so completely, you won’t remember owning one

all acrobats wear bullet-proof jackets, just in case in snows 
all acrobats wear ugly hats, except those who don’t

acrobats like to feed baby ducks on the grave site of 
dee dee ramone, king of acrobats

acrobats make and trade the most horrible things:
        chinese finger traps 
        left-handed puddle shovels 
egyptian ice cream forks 
        poetry and totem poles   
and worst of all, nun flavored gum 

all acrobats have loose screws, which makes them rattle 
        like spare change in the dryer 
        some call it music, some call it inspired 
songs that sound like lunatic finger-strumming rubberband lips  

nobody like lunatic acrobat music, except those who do	

	and worst of all
we need to build a wall, to keep them contained 
        some kind of acrobat habitat 

but what is it exactly 
that makes them so dangerous to cardboard cutout society?
too quick with a joke? too fast on their feet? too many tricycles on flimsy highwires? 
dancing on beach balls? running around thinking their own thoughts?

        damn them! damn them all to kansas! 

and how do we defeat them?
some call an exterminator
some scrape away the bad brainwaves with a hot coat hanger
some bang their heads on church bells
some cuss out the waiter and leave one percent tips
        some get their yawn on and try to forget 
some bury their heads in suburban homesteads and wallow in comfortable sorrow
        but not me
i’ve got acrobats in my attic
and couldn’t be happier