poem: nowhere you
(Facebook kept advertising a Norah Jones poem contest in my margins; every time I clicked, I was sent into cyber-oblivion. No Norah dinner for two for me, I guess; but, I wrote the poem anyway.)
Slapdash paddle ma'am
sitar-kissing punjab
of the western slopes
metroplex baby in her
swishy nines
you couldn't ask for more
digitalis has a way with
the wives of men
the dayglo apothecaries
rhyme their ways to heaven
absenting themselves
from the cooing
sisterwaves, algebra
too can boogie
in the shines, if
your danger has
a vegematic fluff,
dreamy dreams
accentuating anything in
the way of plenty,
she were a cooing cooer
weren't she, said
all the middle schoolers, she
were the biggest of your
minstrel dreams, when the down
was out, left field streamers
streaming the Madisons,
the Carries, the simplest
of rainbow girls on runabout:
blessed we are
she's a brokenhearted
little geisha girl,
all six-guns ablazin' -
she's your roomer, boy -
she'll do your dreams
in paisley, nestle up on
that bus to nowhere,
you can leave your
middleschool middleearth drearies
all behind, from here on
out it's all torchlight
daddy, touchdown
assassins of the unfurled
heart, ninth potion
of the seminal
stream.
Slapdash paddle ma'am
sitar-kissing punjab
of the western slopes
metroplex baby in her
swishy nines
you couldn't ask for more
digitalis has a way with
the wives of men
the dayglo apothecaries
rhyme their ways to heaven
absenting themselves
from the cooing
sisterwaves, algebra
too can boogie
in the shines, if
your danger has
a vegematic fluff,
dreamy dreams
accentuating anything in
the way of plenty,
she were a cooing cooer
weren't she, said
all the middle schoolers, she
were the biggest of your
minstrel dreams, when the down
was out, left field streamers
streaming the Madisons,
the Carries, the simplest
of rainbow girls on runabout:
blessed we are
she's a brokenhearted
little geisha girl,
all six-guns ablazin' -
she's your roomer, boy -
she'll do your dreams
in paisley, nestle up on
that bus to nowhere,
you can leave your
middleschool middleearth drearies
all behind, from here on
out it's all torchlight
daddy, touchdown
assassins of the unfurled
heart, ninth potion
of the seminal
stream.
posted by murat11 at 12:07 PM
6 Comments:
Perhaps you shoulda googled the contest...did you google it? Well it’s a rare beauty, Mister. An’ it’s one in which more’n jus’ one woman ‘sides Miss Norah could find herse’f, or maybe fancy findin’ herse’f... From ‘all six-guns ablazin’ to th’ ‘ninth potion’—only fer me I’m thinkin’ the potion of that dark 90's comedy with Streep and Hawn—I saw a bit of me. Well cause you know we’re all stars in our minds all of us... Wish your unfettered and alive words coulda adnorned that milky sound : )
I coulda swored I googled the damn thing: never found nuthin', probably all for the better, someone's better, anyway. Only a "bit" of you, Lady A? How could there only be bits of you round these parts? Your legendariness and legerdemain are more likely to inspire full-scale riots round here, girl.
I award you First Prize of cyber-oblivion! Great work, bro.
T: Your First Prize beats hell out of the alleged $1000 for the alleged contest. Mil gracias.
Poet Laureate of cyber-oblivion :) Love the tune and the poem. "Cooing cooer" yup.
The cyber-laurels do rain down. Mil gracias. :-D
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