October 31, 2021

muddy feet

 


its all one big puddle

in the middle of my mind

heartbreaking state of things

breathtaking stage of things

strange plan or plague of things

city skyline where the wet moon perches in night churches 

and the rain preaches

pulsating puddle of city creatures

run and flee fast flowing streets

no dry hats

pure puddle of deconstruction, where the fat clouds gather together

gangs of gray donkeys stomping down the moon

gray curtains, gray windows, pounding gray drip-drop rhythms

deep fuzzy puzzle of puddle

dry-hump trash-dump downpour city of dirt angel refugees, i pray you a puddle

all night i sing you a puddle song

o pig, o hog

o swine

ham sandwich divine

square root of all puddles

nose deep blowing bubbles

you are buddha beautiful

i sink

i swoon

i drink

i bloom

i think we might float bloated corpse to the moon

o sweet marinating meat of my bacon heartstrings, let us play puddle games

bring all the rain in the world, ocean my puddle

give it the broth and boil of cities and trains

people and their breathtaking heartbreaking things

slick shimmering rainbows of wet motor oil

give it little licks of headlight and streetlamp

and concrete glitter

i jump

muddy feet and mud-pumping heart

i jump

all my water-weight, all my membranes bursting

unearthing

jump right to the pork soda in the middle

explode into a holy splash

 

 

 

 


posted for poets and storyteller united writer's pantry

19 comments:

  1. i really like the crazy format of the poem, like one happy romp in the rain through big puddles. :)

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  2. A jumbled collaboration of thoughts, random yet a collective. Kind of how my mind works sometimes.

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  3. A most delightful muddle (a term of endearment here) of a puddle of a poem.

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  4. You certainly have a way with imagery and structure, the same goes for play on words... an interesting read.

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    1. thank you magaly, so glad you enjoyed this

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  5. Gorgeous:

    “where the wet moon perches in night churches
    and the rain preaches ...
    pure puddle of deconstruction ...
    deep fuzzy puzzle of puddle ...
    square root of all puddles
    nose deep blowing bubbles ...
    i sink
    i swoon
    i drink
    i bloom ...”

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    1. hey! haven't seen seen you around in awhile, how are you? have you been doing any writing? if your blogs is back up let me know

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    2. Mostly just reading. I check in regularly here to see what you’re up to.

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    3. cool. well, i wish you would put your blog back up, i'd love to read more

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    4. This comment has been removed by the author.

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  6. Oh, how I love your ways with words! And ideas. And images. And emotions. That final splash is a wonderful culmination you led us to with increasing joy.

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    1. thank you rosemary, i appreciate your thought on this.

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  7. OH what goes on! I love the wet moon perched on night church but then the psychedelic took hold.

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    1. having a hard time understanding your comment, what i take from this is you liked the opening, but didn't like anything after that, is that correct? thanks for sharing your thoughts on this

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  8. listening to Hania Rani while reading this. the energy fits ~

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  9. The intensity is dialed up to 9 here. I find myself mesmerized by the word play and way the mood bounces and shifts, the same way the colors reflected in an oil slicked puddle do.

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  10. Muddy feet, a seemingly simple title yet so much can be drawn out from a puddle. You are a skilled writer; I love the flow of your poem and wordplay.

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  11. A porcine sonata, and I can't tell which of us are swine and which divine, but as for me, I'll hang with the real, mud-loving,bubble blowing pigs. Pork soda is an awesome, awesome image, an overturning of tropes, and the mood seems both benign at times and frenzied, which might be attributed to the human swine influence. I'm seeing urban chaos, corruption,".. people and their breathtaking heartbreaking things.." all muddled with finding the way back to something as simple as muddy feet, puddles and no answers more than that to be enough. I may not have got this right, phillip, but I did enjoy it. Your words never stop dancing.

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