above photo taken from the Oceania Ragnarok Online community area
Friday, June 30, 2006
above photo taken from the Oceania Ragnarok Online community area
Thursday, June 29, 2006
it's been a long while since i posted anything on piloteye, but am dedicating my poetic-self to it today. i have plans for accepting submissions for this project, but not yet. i have to develop some poetics statement first, let people know what the project actually is, but in the meantime, have a look at what's bubbling.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
she fills the hall with
width and all the height
of an aroma near ready
trespassing the lips
the socks through fits
and stripes and you wonder
her hip to swift hip
right gazelling the gave
to have ungiven in
it ends before you
________before you want it
and i'd cursed your negligence
a father who doesn't know
his own child's name
i realized that the list of dates
you'd written and kept
were all the days
you'd changed his diaper.
[and this, ladies and gentlemen, is proof enough of how un-prepared i am for parenthood. my dreams keep babies in boxes with lists.]
Sunday, June 25, 2006
boy: the basketball game machine... i put a quarter in it and it didn't go.
she: okay, here is another quarter, see if that works. if not, then don't play that game.
25 minutes later
boy: the game with the claw, i put in the dollar and it won't go in and the machine won't make the dollar into quarters any more, can i have some quarters.
she: (hands him 4 quarters and takes the wrinkled dollar bill)
10 minutes later
boy: umm. do you have a ping pong ball?
she: there are two orange ones on the rack near the table, with the paddles
boy: thank you
1 hour later
boy: the soda machine ate my dollar
she: machines get hungry sometimes too you know
boy (looks at she funny) (waits) can i have a dollar?
she: are you going to share you drink with the machine?
she: (sighs) here's a dollar.
2 minutes later
boy: it ate it again
she: i told you, it's hungry
boy: it's a soda machine
boy: can i have a dollar? again?
she: (hands him another dollar)
p.s. true story, however, it was not the same boy each time, and i didn't time them to know how many minutes between them there was.
when he holds me
tight like a childhood toy
the soft undersides of his feet
listlessly peeking out
of the dull blue duvet of our bed
the gentle stink of his breath
as i kiss him goodbye
just before leaving each morning
relentlessly he succeeds
in breaching my 6am lull
my heart stays in bed with him on sundays
[a bit... well, let's call it a works in progress. it's made up of a few bits i like, but am not sure they work so well together.]
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Friday, June 23, 2006
i have been accused
of getting us lost
for the coffee's weakness
& the gum stuck firmly
to the soul of that man's shoe
i have been taunted
by missing pages of newspapers
and ridculed for the company
of a fiveandthreequarters year old
i have been mistaken
for a helping hand
for the magic touch
over common sense
& once for someone's lost daughter
Thursday, June 22, 2006
we spent the afternoon
trying out the backseat
of a car with no backseat
hunting for comfort
on cheap folding chairs
around beach-pit fire places
[flip flop, i think, is an awful name for a poem. but, look, i named it that anyway.]
that should be obvious. there are (excuse me, there will be) 300 blogging poets who owe a fist full of gratitude to billy for having been included in one of his three lists of 100 Blogging Poets in 100 Days (Part II) (Part III). Not to mention all of the guest poets he encourages, he is kid-friendly, he is responsible for Poet of the Week, he takes on the administrative role for the poetry blogging carnival and he is without a doubt the most dedicated to keeping the blogging-poet community together as one (via poets101, his lists, and all around charm).
oh yeah!! and the guy writes poetry on top of all that!!!!!
for one, it sounds nice. official and all that. also, it's got a nice ring to it... Billy, Mayor of Poets101
it isn't a city, town, borough or municipal corporation*, but it is a playing field for the ever growing community of blogging poets. so many of them (if not all) encouraged and collected by one Billy the Blogging Poet.
and if all those words (city, town, borough...) have one thing in common, it's that they build up around a collection of people, a community. therefore, let Poets101.com be out make believe city, the town hall, the swing set behind the movie theatre, whatever. it's there and it's ours. and i'm taking it upon myself to make billy the mayor the swing set!
*these are the areas for which a legal mayor has governing rights, you see.
why are you doing this?
... hey, what's wrong with me?
what can i do?
that's simple, just vote (pole box at the top left corner of the page). show billy you love him with the simple click of a button! or, if you want to be extra supportive and show billy you reeeaaaallly care, copy this button
ADDITION: Polls closed today after sevral months. 91% of voters have elected Billy the Mayor of Poets101.com!!!!
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Monday, June 19, 2006
while walking past
i heard the cloud say:
we vastly recommend
the squarer of signatures
they promised me rain today
but i'm all dried up
how many squares
would you like to buy?
i thought, at least,
that's what i heard.
Every day dulled.
Never looking up.
Stuck fast in his rut.
Forgetting the sky's surprises.
when he risks it all
to lift his head high
he is politely offered
the first color of the rainbow.
I'm sorry Pandora
I cannot marry you
I am humanosexual.
Though my nimbus is stratus
And your cumulo is serious
There can never be anything
Between the two of us.
by Crunchy Weta
i had an idea today
do you want to hear it?
i think i can trust you.
i thought, perhaps,
if you agree
that we should get
and put it backstage...
with a glance
she felt she knew
in his chest
his mental screen.
i'll post any poems to these two pictures that people send me or compose in the comments of this post. consider it a little challenge ^_^
Saturday, June 17, 2006
the gulls arched their vocal cords
in poor intonation
crabs scuttled, a lost dog
humbled from one door to the other
and along the way a child begged
for affection & strange conditioners
[if you get this poem, give it back to me;
'cause i lost it after the 4th line.]
Thursday, June 15, 2006
this is, of course, an honor. i think though, it might have something to do with my last email to him in which i declared him mayor of the poets101.com community ^_^
thanks again mayor billy, and thanks to roch for making poets101 all better (it was a bit ill for a few days, not aggregating like it ought and that sort) and making the comments feature function!
to become the poet of the week yourself, email me [kaacheson(at)yahoo(dot)co(dot)uk] or billy [idleblogs(at)yahoo(dot)com]
do check it out. got a friendly email from their (somewhat unofficial) poetry scout this morning. if you're in the mood to submit something to someone, they're currently looking for work to compile their second issue.
CORRECTION: melanie is actually the official scout for the onion union (check out the about the editor page)
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Saturday, June 10, 2006
the change in positions revealed
our negative ions to the audience
of squirrels and ash tree blossoms
i'm wearing the holes in your socks
& prefer to verb noun phrases
& adjectify each individual flavor
if you pour me into the cream
i was inspired to try my hand at *.'sparkli bits'.* by denielle
Friday, June 09, 2006
here is a picture of my cat
that i keep in my purse
at all times, she said.
here is a picture of my car
that i keep in my wallet
at all times, he said.
here is a rubik's cube
that i melted in a toaster
last night, she said.
here is a cheese knife
that i used to carve
a middle finger, he said.
sticky from the gutter
intervened, with our humanity
and aluminum ladders and scissors
it bit and flew, petrified
of all the fingers unfurling feathers
[[this was a compulsory poem; something i didn't want to trust to memory. but memory serves me much better. the poem doesn't do it, isn't good enough. i feel as though, perhaps, i should not have published it. it gives me good reason to discuss though. let's discuss:
poetry as a means of remembering. our memory is connected directly to language, to words. we memorize, we learn what things are called, give them names, remember numbers and dates. i have always felt compelled to write the most emotional moments in my life into poetry. however, as compelled and motivated as i feel, the poem never does justice to the event. this leads me to steer away from the event and use it, instead, as a highlight or resource for the poem's venacular.
does this happen to anyone else? something so awesome that you can't write about it? only around it?
maybe i'm the only one.
on the other hand, i could write prose and prose and prose on the same topic; it just doesn't contain within poetic form. today, we found a bird hung from the second story gutter from a string. it's feathered fellow chirping wildly for help; i just don't think it was expecting a guy in his early 50's with a cig hanging out of his lips to turn up on an aluminum ladder. the bird that could flew away. the other bird had no choice but to be held, carried down and prodded. marty held the bird and i followed the plastic thread to the loop formed around the bird's neck. rita got the scissors and we were able to free the bird (who at that point had already bit marty's finger). the chickadee fled for the cover of a bush.
what a horrifying sight. to see a bird swinging from a string from the top of a building. it was as if it had been hung. that was the traumatizing part for me. the image. and the instant human reaction to personify the birds.
we saved it though. am i'm grateful for that. the poem, however, does nothing to disperse any feeling or even provoke thought. it doesn't even
Thursday, June 08, 2006
perhaps a proper review is in order, as i neglected to follow through on my last offer to review the first issue of the magazine. in the mean time, get your own copy of Norther: email rob or hardy. it's instant, free, and quality.
previous norther entry on somethingkaty.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
the humble din of bedside glamour
never reaching its epoch
finer trophies struggle
past her sleeping form
while she, modern in her position
dreaming their nightmares
the sleeping woman II
he sits, waiting and watching
her figure rise and fall;
her left nipple sailing on each breath
like a buoy
over vast oceans of supple flesh.
collected at the knee
he admires the form she keeps;
modern and rigorous.
each crevasse a cavern
embodied by lust and by need.
his need. he can't remember
her name or which hotel
they'd stumbled into.
the only memory he retained
was that of an animal
knowing her and remembering how,
but his mind foregoes the why;
and listens intently
to the air as it parts her pursed lips.
the sleeping woman III
stranger creatures have been taken
to the reaches of stranger worlds;
to brink on ages and grape’d
by seductions of stranger intention.
but a stranger he, until last night;
the man that took her all.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
get me one of these
my ear is doing
__all the rininging
buy a phone by phone
for six easy payments
of your dignity
and a digit every cycle
BE IN MY NETWORK
[could be that i'm in a rare mood; happily birding]
Sunday, June 04, 2006
-voice over on an electric lawn mower ad
on a freshly stained deck
rain fell and swarmed in
quarter sized puddles
with pupils of pollen
we watched as the birds shook
the rain from their beaks
and searched the muddy grass
for those more unfortunate than ourselves
wrapped in a king's blanket we're attentive
to the bubble of the fish tank just audible
over the pelting of rain drops
and squawking of wet crows on the lawn
Saturday, June 03, 2006
ask her what her favorite color is, then ask her why. she'll be your friend.
found her via T.J.'s portfolio of websites he's designed and developed. am impressed, without a doubt. mr morgan, j00 got skillz.
torment their ungrateful black wings.
it's saturday morning and we should be sleeping
to the sound of rain on the pavement
outside our treacherous window
that overlooks the future of lawnmowers.
the equalizers demand chaos for company
or the hum of an air conditioner in june,
but we are damned to wrestle with serenity
and the small orange shadow chasing it's tail.
as a matter of seduction
the holes in our socks went unnoticed
for the remainder of the course
by then, your fur against mine,
we'd turned the clocks back by an hour
the saturday morning rain
pelting the picture window
all in time with the ticking and sighs
or your phone started to ring
Friday, June 02, 2006
es, that is in the future, but sometimes the future is now, and I’m showing Katy some of the great features Word 2007 is going to bring, including, unsurprisingly, the ability to write your blog posts directly in word, and upload them in one or two quick clicks.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
tucked under the covers of a stranger's bed
touching parts in the dark, underestimating
the lure of breaking points and bending rules
our tangled feet in adjective rigmaroles
for all the world to wake up to on sunday
through stained glass window pains
in arch ways worthy of divinations and rituals
spear-wielding cherubs in new formula pampers
ring our wrists in a game they call 'rose garden'
and your right ear starts bleeding
from two of my eight teeth marks
i only wish i could take responsibility for this little masterpiece. i suppose, at least, i was inspiration ^_^