Friday, December 18, 2015

Angst and beyond

I wrote this last nite in the wee hours. Bjorn and a friend have suggested we write free verse today in the style of Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg. Free writing is "like playing tennis without a net" to quote Robert Frost. A zany train of thought comes more easily to me than some structured poem. It is a bit long, but the pen took me there.  Check it out others' work for yourself...some are lovely, some are wild at


Those in between pre-teen years of angst,
thrust upon us__
encroaching on our individualism,
as we watched our father undress,
Occurring unexpectedly,
as we did, I suppose,
from some unknown tower, or power?
Above reproach, of course,
then he placed his children
in the center of a giant bow,
plucked and pulled the cord back,
shot them like arrows into space__
aiming too far to one side,
or the other, no bullseye
Integrity and fairness count,
but blight blew in the windows
and mother made bologna sandwiches
with mayonnaise
Her apron with blood stains on it,
hung from the clothesline and waved goodbye,
squinting in the sun,
not forgotten

Times when a girdle and panty hose
cramped my style,
hiking uphill to the yellow bus,
minding my own p's and q's
What time does the library open
its timeless gates, please?
And who doesn't love a parade with roses
and a bagpipe band?
Forever dancing in the park blocks_
licorice ice cream,
feeding homeless pigeons
We climbed on Thomas Jefferson's
horse's back, sat in the saddle with him,
feeling the coolness of steel
against our legs
Slow music started my heart beating
under crepe paper banners flying
Bounce, bounce, bounce,
from cradle to measles,
to Paul Anka__
How old is earth, the world?
The tan birthmark that covers half
of the psychiatrist's face__
well the other half, matching his,
is on my back

Blow Up was a suspenseful film noir,
filmed in England, if you can find it online
Oh, I do want someday to visit the Cotswolds
High winds take the kite away_
along came a ugly faced hurricane, sucked
all opportunities away, to be swallowed
by the biggest bird you ever saw_
and oh, the swing wants
to go higher and higher!
Those girls who smoked in junior high school
had common sense?
I never quite caught up with them
My bobby sox were good behaved well

Shudder to think how ridiculous
the smelly crinkly perm in my hair__
face unclear of fear,
He through me a box of Kotex,
said "Merry Christmas" and winked;
up the chimney he rose

Galloping under me a buckskin mare,
We rode into the woods and poison ivy,
pranced up the mountain, tasted
sweet strawberries on the other side
A clean ice cold stream
quenched our thirst as we lay on our tummies,
kissed Frankie Avalon in the mirror
Talking our hearts out
from dawn to dusk, we rode with
Dale Evans and Roy Rodgers, Elvis,
and Martin Luther King
One giant step for mankind
put me out on a limb with Shirley MacLaine
Girls like me usually go far_
Around the world in 80 days,
backpacking, sleeping in cemeteries
Serve paella in a restaurant,
to pay for higher learning_
Magnum cum laude
Troy Donahue's image,
stuck in her head
"Al-Di-La", 1963
The adventure wasn't advertised,
the King and Queen of hearts married
under burdensome wings,
babes in the woods

Rubbery legs give out some times
but one can ride the ferris wheel
again and again,
upside down one time,
this way, that way,
"my ?? is in a bucket" ?
Old MacDonald had a farm,
cows that type__ee eye ee eye oh?
Recorded somewhere, videotaped,
or in a scrapbook,
all is recorded somewhere by great-great-
great-great-great-great grandfather Fate and
Ms. Faith,
where stories weaves wildly, randomly,
like a serpentine _
No pain, no passion, right?
Red and white graduation robes, tassels
on caps,
no pomp and circumstance,
LSD & pot

Descendants can't tell us what it's like to die,
how we live on
If there is a thread through infinity,
I want to be the a needle
It aches to want to know all the reasons,
 "Why" and "Why not"!!!


  1. I loved your train of thought that covered so many memories...for you and me both, Kathy. Did you mean the movie, "Blow Out?" I saw that one...very suspenseful. Really enjoyed this!

    1. Blow Out was American with John Travolta. Blow Up was English with David Hemmings. Both full of suspense, Blow Up was black and white and film noir. Don't mean to be interjective - just a big fan of English movies, smiles.

    2. Yes, and I was referring to the one with David haunted me. Thank you, Toni.

  2. I think this is the perfect fit for the prompt.. i love how your thoughts followed exactly the way we might associate... when we got to walk down the memory lane... realizing choices we have made and understanding how the road might have led us to where we are... just wonderful

  3. Kathy, you definitely have a talent for this sort of writing. There are many things there that I relate to, also, though I'm a little older...but the music, oh yeah! And the bologna sandwiches. Kinda wish I had one right now.

  4. Wow, this was truly a walk down the past ~ I specially love this part:

    And who doesn't love a parade with roses
    and a bagpipe band?
    Forever dancing in the park blocks_
    licorice ice cream,

    Thanks Katy for the personal share ~ This was a pleasure to read tonight ~

  5. Glad you let your pen wander wild and free on this. Excellent free write. Brought back so many memories of the times, the emotions. Blow Up was a favorite of mine and still is. How I wish I could write freely like this! I'm glad I waited for a quiet time to read this treasure.

  6. This is such an interesting poem, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

  7. Smiles.. days of past..
    3 or fewer
    eyes see
    culture reigns
    same.. but what
    about today..
    in shaRinG..
    ha! i suppose
    Star Wars is about
    as close as we get
    to positive culture..
    but of course there
    are terrorist attacks
    and politics..
    sad world
    when negative
    rules and common
    elements of Love
    are so spread out
    and far.. but sure
    there is war.. there
    is hate.. fear.. division
    and Love
    a common
    of liGht..
    the terminators
    still living now as
    fearful machines..
    so spread
    a True thief
    in the Night
    of human's
    of heArt
    and SpiRit


All comments, constructive and otherwise, are welcome and appreciated here. Thank you to those who show an interest in my quirky style of writing, photography, painting, and presenting a feeling or thought and for stopping by A Dwelling by the Sea..