Word~Monger #MeetingTheBar @dVersePoets

It is constant, that ticking
Mind numbing, actually.
Yet I refuse, to push its button.

It has threatened dis~
ease among my congregation...
digital pews
where the holy spirit appears...
in hologram (Tupac a'int got nothing on MY savior)

It's church on Sunday if you have the time
because forgiveness can't come soon enough
and it certainly won't climax on Monday...

but we can turn back the clock
if the global arena
runs out of race track.

Nothing worse than a cone of vanilla ice scream
pooling on hot pavement
under a vaporizing sun.
SPF 391 not enough
to keep the cream from curdling

Sham~WOW to the rescue
resurrecting spores that will eat the treat
three times over
regurgitated , waxing plastic.

These cockles shells have mutated
and Mary has lost that once proud look in her eye
as she curses the sprinklers timer
and switches to speaker phone

It is constant, that ticking
but it's nothing to me
I skipped over the cone
to eat poetry.

The Chazinator  (@shralec) is back with MeetingTheBar at dVersePoets.  It's machine, technology, our times...and we're putting it all down in poetry.  Bring your pens!



Comments

Jody Costa said…
i eat the poetry as well. nice one, spit fire! tupac ain't got nothin!
Claudia said…
tight voice in this tash...you know..i like vanilla icecream..not if it melts on the pavement though...but i sure love melting words on the pavement...and would bow down to lick them up any time...mmmpffhhh...smiles
Brian Miller said…
These cockles shells have mutated
and Mary has lost that once proud look in her eye
as she curses the sprinklers timer
and switches to speaker phone

ha. this was a rip poet, one tot he next....i am lamenting the ice cream a bit...and enjoying the vaporization today a bit....

lol claudia
Glenn Buttkus said…
I read that line as written "ice scream" which gives it more layers, more shades of meaning. love the poetic notion that your brain is an imperfect machine, spewing out words like a batting practice machine, pelting the world with language, and your pen is your bat, as you swat some, catch some, and let others slide through your legs. Tinges of Sci Fi, of dimensional shifts here; great read.
Let's eat poetry together, sweet as ice cream.
Some fantastic word play in this one, Tash! Love it. Tense yet almost playful, too.
http://charleslmashburn.wordpress.com/2012/05/10/its-awfully-quiet-in-here/
Anonymous said…
Wow, you blew me away. One of my favorites for sure. I'm leaving poetic, virtual roses :).
Unknown said…
really a cool way to look at this prompt. I love it, unique, well stated and chock full of all that is Tash. Great write. Thanks
Anonymous said…
Very cool. This is actually one of my favorites of yours--well, I like a lot of them - but I love the eating of poetry. And the ticking is something I can much identify with. k.
Dee-lish! This was a fun read, lady!
henry clemmons said…
yes, eating poetry; a fine diet.
Anonymous said…
I was going to say what he said to I also like the line to eat poetry. Oh, well the flow was great, you view was poetic. good work
http://leah-jamielynn.typepad.com
S.E.Ingraham said…
tick tick kaboom - this felt like it was wound tighter than the trip wire on a roadside bomb ... I love it!

http://aleapingelephant.blogspot.ca/2012/05/deus-ex-machina-redux.html
Mystic_Mom said…
yum...and boom and wow!
vivinfrance said…
Reading these machine poems one after another, I'm starting to feel dizzy from surreal whirling verses. This is another WOW poem.
Maude Lynn said…
Those last two lines rock!
Anonymous said…
i like your spf line a lot -> eewwww curdling cream on your body, that's gross!!! what an image~~

Sonnet 40
Unknown said…
wow what a bleak vision of the future you bring to light. This is a possible future that is very real, though my fears revolve around the loss self-identity which will be must remain to sustain some awareness of what it might mean to be human. I like the beginning of this, where you have the preacher going digital and using that as some form of proof of the spiritual. How ironic is that? I see the logic in this though, since what is disembodied fits a distorted image of an immortal soul whatever that is. And it also fits in with the hatred of the body which ultimately leads to disdain for the earth, whose devastation you imagine for us so vividly. This is a powerful poem addressing important issues that we face and must attempt to answer before its potential for disaster manifests itself.
Poetry should be the new fad diet: low calorie, no carbs, and infinitely satisfying! Nicely done!
Gloria Baker said…
aahh I love the part of Ice cream, good for a sad soul :)

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