—Photos Courtesy of Public Domain
THE GHOST IN THE MIRROR
I didn’t believe in ghosts
I never saw one
but I was looking in the wrong place
When you get old
you become a ghost
you speak but nobody hears
and nobody sees you
unless you’re attached to a dog
They smile at the dog
then their eyes follow the lead
and the smile fades and they pass by
Other old people meet your eye
They can see you
but they pass by too
They see their reflection
and they’re not interested either
I avoid mirrors
I feel like the same person
(with a sore back and blurred vision)
but the mirror shows
the white hair and the wrinkles
The face in the mirror is just a shell
full of fading memories
Now I understand
why vampires have no reflection
why ancient people feared sneezes
why remote people feared cameras
We’re taught
we have an eternal soul
and it’s hard to believe your eyes
when you see it fading away
I didn’t believe in ghosts
I never saw one
but I was looking in the wrong place
When you get old
you become a ghost
you speak but nobody hears
and nobody sees you
unless you’re attached to a dog
They smile at the dog
then their eyes follow the lead
and the smile fades and they pass by
Other old people meet your eye
They can see you
but they pass by too
They see their reflection
and they’re not interested either
I avoid mirrors
I feel like the same person
(with a sore back and blurred vision)
but the mirror shows
the white hair and the wrinkles
The face in the mirror is just a shell
full of fading memories
Now I understand
why vampires have no reflection
why ancient people feared sneezes
why remote people feared cameras
We’re taught
we have an eternal soul
and it’s hard to believe your eyes
when you see it fading away
J. ALFRED DEFROCKED
You wear the bottoms of your trousers rolled
So what?
I've been doing it since I was a kid
Did you ever get your pants leg caught in a bicycle
chain?
And about those sirens
Do you really want them singing to you
when you're taking a ride in an ambulance
or the fire truck is coming to your house?
And the snickers?
Well,
chocolate and peanuts
are really not bad at all
All that about not being the star of your own show?
Do you really want to read about yourself
in the tabloids?
Listen, Harry
Tom had a way with words
but he had his problems too
Why should I compare myself with him?
“Anxiety of Influence”?
Sure you're not projecting?
I woke up this morning and wrote this all down
Well, not all of it
I took a break in the middle
to take the dog out for a wee
But I didn't forget the rest
'cause my brains aren't addled with laudanum
Sorry, Sam, it was the medicine
not the poor old Person.
Ourselves in poetry
aren’t taking the place
of much of anything
nowadays
You wear the bottoms of your trousers rolled
So what?
I've been doing it since I was a kid
Did you ever get your pants leg caught in a bicycle
chain?
And about those sirens
Do you really want them singing to you
when you're taking a ride in an ambulance
or the fire truck is coming to your house?
And the snickers?
Well,
chocolate and peanuts
are really not bad at all
All that about not being the star of your own show?
Do you really want to read about yourself
in the tabloids?
Listen, Harry
Tom had a way with words
but he had his problems too
Why should I compare myself with him?
“Anxiety of Influence”?
Sure you're not projecting?
I woke up this morning and wrote this all down
Well, not all of it
I took a break in the middle
to take the dog out for a wee
But I didn't forget the rest
'cause my brains aren't addled with laudanum
Sorry, Sam, it was the medicine
not the poor old Person.
Ourselves in poetry
aren’t taking the place
of much of anything
nowadays
DREAMS
When I was five
after school
I used to climb up Dollar Glen
beside the Burn of Care,
find a quiet spot
in a meadow of grass and wild flowers
bees buzzing in the heather
I’d lie on my back
watching the skein of cirrus in the bright blue sky
and dream about being an RAF pilot.
When I was ten
in school
we had nuclear attack drills.
When the bell rang
we hid under our desks
for protection
in case they dropped The Bomb.
I dreamed of charred bodies
in the smoking rubble that had been a city.
When I was fifteen
one night
the Devil appeared to me in a dream.
She didn’t do anything
just stood at the foot of my bed
and watched me.
I haven’t seen her since
but every so often
I have the feeling she’s watching.
When I was twenty
in college
I read The Interpretation of Dreams
and dreams became a game
a party trick to master
to impress your friends
and chat up girls.
If there’s someone
you can tell your dreams to
you’re lucky.
WE’LL BE WATCHING YOU
Every single day
Every word you say
Every bill you pay
Every place you stay
We’ll be watching you
Since you logged on, privacy's gone without a trace
Your camera's on, we can even see your face
You look around but it's gone, you can't replace
Cash is so cold and we long for its embrace
We keep on crying give us your password, please
Oh, don't you fuss
You belong to us
We don't have to guess
At every key you press
Every cent you spend
Every buck you lend
Every card you send
Every rule you bend
We'll be watching you
____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
ODE TO AN INCEL
—Victor Kennedy
When ere thy true love thou dost scorn
Why, then thou should’st peruse some porn
To ease thy mind from thy lonesome woes
And bring this saga to a close
For in this bind thou art not alone
When sayest thou, true love hath flown
Too bad thou art in such a pickle
Since her fancy thou didst not tickle
____________________
—Medusa, with thanks to Victor Kennedy for today’s fine poetry, and wishing tons of treats and no tricks to readers everywhere!
ODE TO AN INCEL
—Victor Kennedy
When ere thy true love thou dost scorn
Why, then thou should’st peruse some porn
To ease thy mind from thy lonesome woes
And bring this saga to a close
For in this bind thou art not alone
When sayest thou, true love hath flown
Too bad thou art in such a pickle
Since her fancy thou didst not tickle
____________________
—Medusa, with thanks to Victor Kennedy for today’s fine poetry, and wishing tons of treats and no tricks to readers everywhere!
For future poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
during the week.
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Find previous four-or-so posts by scrolling down
under today; or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column; or find previous poets
by typing the name of the poet or poem
into the little beige box at the top
left-hand side of today’s post; or go to
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom of
the blue column at the right
to find the date you want.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
during the week.
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Find previous four-or-so posts by scrolling down
under today; or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column; or find previous poets
by typing the name of the poet or poem
into the little beige box at the top
left-hand side of today’s post; or go to
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom of
the blue column at the right
to find the date you want.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
(Trick or Treat!)
