Sploosh!

 

Orange 1923

—Paintings by Wassily Kandinsky (1866-1944)

—Poetry by Jeremy Scott, Albany, GA

 

BREAKING NEWS BRIC-À-BRAC

Lying fallow—resinous hollow,
we are fed with the mouths of men,
Side-eying the inevitable collapse of Rome,
            parchment white marble dust—
            deals with the dead.
Painting a portrait with cigarette ash—
            gesticulation of grand design,
            I am wheat toast, you are petty,
sploosh out the meaning on the water slide.
See where that Nirvana gilded road takes you,
            if only to baste the turkey one last time.
Undercooked and partially worn,
            Goodwill price stickers on my jacket,
            will in the inevitability scale the summit. 

 

 

 

Yellow—Red—Blue 1925

 

 

 

DECOUPAGING THE CAT

Holistic effervescence of the snakeskin,
            lying there so beautiful,
            like an unpainted lawn gnome.
There’s no such thing as a coquettish cowboy,
            if you’re so sure of that, bet money on the bank,
            and let go of your dreams.
Internal rhyme scheme of the simulacrum breaks down,
            digital golem hides within the mainframe,
            right before dawn.
Sleep with me and you’ll fall through the cracks,
the glitches in the programming are vital,
if only we had lunch today.
Rise to the occasion, eat the bear,
            live for tomorrow. 

 

 

 

Symphony of Colors

 

WEASELS IN MY ENGINE BLOCK

Tired of the arguing, the sniffling,
            you never get what’s promised,
            in your pet rock menagerie.
Barbequed eels on my hibachi,
            squirm and worm their way back to life
            in order to tell me their secrets.
Werewolf in my bloody heart,
            you wish this were you,
            clawing, tearing, gnashing.
There’s purpose in the bile,
            anger in the stomach,
watch out before you eat yourself up.
Silly string decorates my dressing room,
            only to bring out the best in me. 

 

 

 

Cossacks 1910-11

 

 

 

OUTER SPACE PLUMBING

Tie up the bedposts so that they don’t shatter,
            when we sleep so hard tonight.
Egregious fault lines in the pattern,
            finding solitude, bite-sized.
We don’t know where we found
            ourselves, if only for tomorrow’s sake,
            to die is to live infinitely,
            and call ourselves ok.
Playing with the brain in a jar,
            to get a grip on things,
            for a second to begin, breathing.
Nagasaki and Hiroshima still show up
            on the map, resilient, despite
            themselves, they go on.  

 

 

Circles in a Circle 1923

 

HANDKERCHIEF, TUCKED SIDEWAYS

You see yourself in the stream,
            never the same, twice.
Broken-down worn-out television,
            the tubes still intact, but
            little else to write home about.
Tomorrow is for the birds,
            today is for the fishes,
            yesterday is born for the worms,
            I rise from beyond the dirt.
Superhero style is breaking down
            promise me you won’t,
            for I need you to stay strong,
            only for the day,
            so tell me your birthday is soon.

_________________________

Today’s LittleNip:

My writing, it’s my way of making sense of everything. My way to feel whole. May I never be complete and may I never feel content—please, let me always have the need, always have the urge to write.

―Charlotte Eriksson

_________________________

Thanks, Jeremy, for what he calls his “sorta sonnets”. Jeremy Scott is from Albany, Georgia. His debut novella, Marginalia, has been published by Alien Buddha Press [alienbuddhapress.wordpress.com/blog and scroll down to the third book]. His poetry has been published or is forthcoming in All Guts No Glory, Angel Rust, Fifth Wheel Press's flux digital anthology, Pies & Poems, Pink Plastic Poetry House, Selcouth Station, Versification, and others. Jeremy can be contacted on Twitter at @possiblyarhino.

Welcome to the Kitchen, Jeremy, and don’t be a stranger!

For more about Wassily Kandinsky, go to en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wassily_Kandinsky/.

________________________

—Medusa

 

 

 

Jeremy Scott

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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