Catalog Part Three

Posted in Poem by chamblee54 on June 24, 2018





my thoughts are my business – practice outweigh beliefs
g-d does not write books – thought about jesus does not – affect life after death

rumble grumble rattle bubble – gurgle murder tumble scream
thunder whimper whistle trouble – groan growl boo hoo bleep dream

daedalus nine peninsula dead – didi won straw warts now i did – dogma in my hymn i am god
drab as a fool aloof as a bard – draw o caesar erase a coward – evi saves god dogs evasive
evil did i dwell lewd i did live – go deliver a dare vile dog – i man am regal a german am i
lived on decaf faced no devil – margot trades used art to gram – mr owl ate my metal worm
murder for a jar of red rum – tulsa night life filth gin a slut – drat saddam mad dastard

before you call out racism – there are a few questions
is the accuser telling the truth? have you heard both sides of the story?
is it really racism or is it a personal dispute where someone cries race?
is it institutional systemic oppression or just someone saying something stupid?
do you know what you are talking about? is it any of your business?

when people around you sing praises for someone
that hates on you even though you have never done anything to hurt someone
but because someone finds your opinions to be distasteful

pg went to see frickin witch poet – read in dickhater georgia basement
where they let people smoke tobacco – pg misgendered fwp in blog post
told secret officer of pronoun police – about it they called pg oppressor

In June of 2015, I heard a poet, Jamie Mortara, on a podcast. They had a show in Decatur, and I attended. Since they described themself as a faerie witch, I thought some people I knew might be interested. I made a few facebook posts about the show, to no avail. When I wrote about the evening, I used he/him/his pronouns. There was a comment: “i am frequently misgendered throughout this article and it makes me angry.” A few days later, I described the incident to someone, who went ballistic. The pronoun police don’t play. In August of 2016, I saw the poet at the National Poetry Slam. They did not remember me. We had a brief, semi pleasant chat, before they excused them self to type on their laptop. Singular they can be tough to get used to.

atrocious revolting appalling vile – nauseating odious pernicious nasty
loathsome disgusting hateful bilious – unctuous feculent odious putrescent

interpretive jiggery-pokery – subordinate tangential availability
presuppose purported provisions – statutory rudimentary ratification
substantive transcribing distortions – congressional participation principle
affordable equivalent implementation – unquestionable challenged provision

bleat bleep blow bluster boil – boohoo breathe bubble clack clap – clash click cluck coo cough crackle
crash croak flicker groan growl – grumble gurgle hiss howl hum – murmur neigh rattle reap roar
rumble rustle scrap scrape scream – sing snarl snore sob squeak squeal
stutter thunder tinkle tumble weep

do one thing at a time do it – slowly deliberately completely
do less put space between things – smile serve others develop rituals
designate time for certain things – devote time to sitting live simply
make cleaning cooking meditation – think about what is necessary

have two ears and one mouth listen twice as much as you talk
when in doubt shut up if you want to be forgiven forgive
douche is a hygiene appliance not an insult
ass is a noun not an adjective or adverb
before you call out somebody for racism drape a towel over your mirror

real estate agent got a surprise he showed closet to possible buyer
inside were skeletal remains of last year’s hide and seek champion
brad majors was upset when car got back from garage
he knew the odor caused by rotting meat loaf in trunk would never completely go away
pale faced man came out of kitchen said “what are you doing to my home?”
wrecker’s ball distributed contents of his head across the front yard

We are getting to post e092, or number 92 in 2015. Chamblee54 poetry has been going on for two years at this point. The writing contest prompts, that started this, have ended. There are a few short posts now, but more long ones. There are starting to be “big word poems,” where words, and phrases, are mined from articles. They are grouped into poems based more on the way they sound, than on the meaning the words have. A lot of these poems are terrible, and not included in this collection.

In early October 2015, I was at a *family gathering* in Tennessee. I read a selection of poems at the “no talent show.” It was a great experience. I decided to find an open mic program, and start to read regularly in public. Going live is the next part of the story.




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