Poetry Break #4

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The Dow keeps dropping…

Cris over at The blog of the Unknown Writer did a brilliant post about the problems ANSWER is having with the WashingtOOn city government. You should check it out.


Yup, yet another damn poetry break, just cause I can! These are all by me. I need a break from the rants today, but I will be running wild on those idiots in washingtOOn again tomorrow!

One of my blog buddies, Dancy, wrote a post about family reunions a while back. I commented that we eyetalians call our family reunions weddings and funerals. This first poem is about all that.


The Third Oldest Cousin Meets with the Commission


On the occasion of his kid sisters first wedding

The third oldest cousin enters the hall to find the first and second cousins absent

A shutter runs through him as he realizes that the pecking order dictates

He is now responsible for the intergenerational representation of the cousins

Vis a vis the dreaded commission


He finds his seat, happily distant from the commission’s

The whiskey sours, minestrone, clams and rigatoni

Are served without incident


But the third cousin knows they are just bidding their time

Waiting for just the right moment to strike!



Will they wait for the cake to be served or will they mount their attack sooner?

Number three tries to close the shudders on those thoughts

As the prime rib is served the third cousin

Does a peripheral vision glance at the commission’s seat of power



The three emissaries of the apocalypse

Blue haired bringers of pain and unhappiness

Their footsteps pounding the ground in unison of purpose

Bee line it toward the third cousins table


As they arrive the buzzing whine of them harshly reaches a crescendo

Even when they are not speaking everything around them vibrates

With the reality exclusion zone that surrounds the emissaries


Emanating in all directions from their epicenter

This zone has been know to cause lesser beings

To faint in it’s embrace


The third cousin simply waits until

The overpriced roses of the centerpiece wilt dead

This is the official announcement that the emissaries have arrived


They go right to the attack

Have you heard that your cousin has left the wardrobe?”



That would be the seventh cousin

Who had just come out of the closet

The third cousin stifles his first thought which is to defend the seventh cousin

But number seven had done nothing requiring a defense

Any attempt at defense would just be playing into the commission’s plan


With this insight the emissaries shape shift

Into aunt mary one, aunt mary two, and aunt mary three

All three aptly named after our lady of perpetual agony


The third cousin looks up at them and simply says

Hi aunt marys!

UMMM, do ya gotta bother me while I’m eatin’?


This sent the emissaries packing

Back to the full commission to report


The third cousin returned to his meal in peace

With the knowledge that at the next family gathering

The first or second cousin

Will have to defend the actions of the third cousin on this night


Have you heard what your cousin did at his own sisters wedding?”

The third cousin never cares

He knows he’s not named in the wills of the Commission members anyway!



This next one is about the burbs:


Creeping Suburbia of the Mind


It makes you place yellow ribbons

And vote red or blue


Mega Ditto”

And be afraid


Demand highway expansion

And cheap gas

Hire day labor to clean house

And lawn mow


zoom around at high speeeeeed

And miss everything in between

Install yourselves in mcmansions

and hide from the neighbors


Shop in a big box

and eat buyers remorse

Be what you wear

and think what you’re told


Dream of TV stardom

And rock star status

Be mundane

And unknown


Feel nothing well

And everything overly

Read the best sellers

and recycle the containers properly


See the urban as problematic

And rejoice in your overcrowded isolation



All is forgiven…


An online friend and fellow poet who goes by the name Vix the Unpoet and I had a small disagreement which turned into a knock down, drag out poetry brawl. I wrote this poem in self defense after she hit me hard with an attack poem first. I would post her poem, but she would sue me for copy write violation. 😉 Vix, if you’re listening, I still love ya and ya know it! She really is a brilliant poet.


Th e Object of Her Disdain


She doesn’t un-un-understand

She misses the true nature of our connection

That we are alike in our history

Both having lost rents at mid-teen



We ran free in 1970’s art ghettos

She in la la land

I zoo york


We sharpened or verbal swords

On the bloated corpses

Of minor art thugs


On the battlefields of club, cafe and street


Did it make any sense to throw our words

In shards of glass fistfuls

At each other in rage?


Dueling couplets at high noon


To have one more go round

At running through the streets

In opposite directions

Half naked and bleeding

Howling in painful elation at separation


She un-remembers her words

You are me and I am You…”

Amnesia by the dashboard light?


I’m using a shovel to cleanup my guts

Might as well make quick work of a well known task!

We’re too fucking old for this shit!


This is me

Cutting off an ear and sending it to her


The telepathic crickets are nowhere to be found, they hate it when I go off all poetic like…

The scientifically impossible I do right away

The spiritually miraculous takes a bit longer


~ by ClapSo on August 16, 2007.

8 Responses to “Poetry Break #4”

  1. […] Efron Contact the Webmaster Link to Article t-pain Poetry Break #4 » Posted at A View From the Bridge at ClapSotronics on […]

  2. Good stuff. Especially “Suburbia” and “Disdain.” You cut right through the bullshit with your imagery and observations.

  3. I’m enjoying the blog. It’s good to see more people from Utica writing online. Keep me posted on any anti-war activities, they will certainly be broadcast on my blog.


  4. ClapSo,
    I commend your spirit; I haven’t dared poetize since a wee lad in school.

    Well expressed, and damned poetic.


  5. You are all far too kind! Sorry I haven’t been a very good host in not keeping up with my responses to your comments. Things re really hectic around here these days…

    Thanks for stopping in and commenting!

    The scientifically impossible I do right away
    The spiritually miraculous takes a bit longer

  6. Hey Clapso,

    A nice break from the realities of everyday life.
    Your poetry is damn good. I especially favor Creeping Suburbia of the Mind.

    Very apt….

    Also “Onject of her disdain”…….I’m using a shovel to cleanup my guts…….yeah, Know the feeling…


  7. Th e Object of Her Disdain is a remarkable piece of poetry. I love the poetry break but miss the crickets. I have disappeared to grease the machine and take place as a brick in the wall. But shenanigans should start soon.

  8. You befuddle the normal
    intrigue the enigmatic
    you absorb electricity
    when others give static.


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