THE STORM BEFORE THE CALM
Going on ten p.m.
Ready to relax… reflect… boot down
Don’t forget tomorrow’s appointment,
which means:
Get up early (but I won’t sleep)
Take a shower (so I don’t reek)
But first, tonight, I must
clean up kitchen mess from dinner:
Meats, sweets, culinary treats
Counter’s a bloodbath of
beet juice, nibs, rice shards
Now to bed – first, cat fed
Now to bed – wait, take med
Now to bed – oops, brush teeth
Now to bed – shit, no sheets!
Now to bed – yoga first
(muscles stretch and tension burst)
NOW to bed – meditation
Plug in phone, pull up station
Guarantees a good night’s sleep
(takes two hours and three repeats)
Soothing voices, never boring
Long night’s journey into snoring
© 2016 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For ABC Wednesday, K is for kerfuffle.
We (I and my bipolar) are currently in manic phase. I downloaded the free “Insight Timer” phone app, and they have everything from soothing music to calm voices talking me through various relaxations. Anyone with insomnia, GET THIS APP!
Unfortunately, when the manic is in sway, I can get through the whole thing with my body buzzingly relaxed and happy, but my mind is still running circles and twisting about. So yeah… my therapist says I may have ADD, but frankly, the bipolar, PTSD, and OCD are quite enough, thank you. Amy
LOST WORD
I awoke, musing
(first thoughts of morning, always sharpest)
that President Obama’s endorsement
of Debbie Wasserman Schultz was
an implied endorsement of Hillary Clinton
(yes, I actually wake up thinking this stuff)
I then planned a tweet
to that effect
In my mind, typing abbreviated text
(abbrev’d txt)
“Prez hypes DWS; tacet hype of HRC
Didn’t even close the quotes
Stopped short
“tacet”
Is it “tacit”? No, doesn’t look right
Is there a tacet/tacit usage comparison?
Should I google it?
Is “tacit” a word
or a typo?
Or is “tacet” wrong?
At that moment
This very morning, in my bed
I realized, “This is how it can start, with
a lost word.”
Hear this, cruel Fates:
I don’t lose words
I use words
to great effect
(Effect? Affect?
Naw, I’m screwin’ with ya now!)
Poets, writers, artists
write and paint their truth
Individual as brushstrokes
If my truth were
that mental facility would begin to leak
To fallfunnel
an hourglass
emptied
s
l
o
w
l
y
I watched the first grain of sand slip
today
and documented it here
Now, that would be ironic
That precision of loss
© 2016 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Connie Peters and I play Words With Friends. She asked this week whether I would be doing the April Poem-A-Day challenge. At that time, I told her that depression would probably get the best of me, so NO. After this experience, and her musing that “sometimes, it can help,” I have decided to take the plunge after all.
Thanks, Connie! See, we never know when the little words of encouragement will stick. Friends rock.
Alzheimer’s does not run in my family. Just the usual shot livers, lung cancer, and other addiction-related stuff that is preventable when you know what’s up. My real fear is that, since my mom lived a long time WITH fallout from addication, I will have to be put down like an old horse when I am 128. Find a quiet corner of the garden, you know…
For ABC Wednesday, the letter is L… for loss/lost. Amy
GREEDY BASTARD
He was always greedy
Wanting more buildings with his name
emblazoned in new neon
Then, when customers
found flaws and defaulted or fled
he got in bed with the State to
deflate his debt. Bankruptcy,
more than financial, substantial
penalties were paid by ordinary Joes,
like schmoes, we sat by and watched
as he snatched victory from the
jaws of the Street
When his first wife was no longer
trophyworthy, he moved on
And again
And again
Like a rich white kid tiring of a toy
Or a car
he traded his women in
for newer models
Sometimes foreign, sometimes domestic
(sometimes actual models)
All with solid chassis and
that new-wife smell
When he tired of Atlantic City
he moved on to TV
the natural place for such as he
Bombastic, plastic,
spasmodic delivery
When he got fired from TV
he moved on
to the real big deal
And now his greed dictates
that we should grant him
Gold toilets in the White House
Do we really need
to cater to his greed?
© 2016 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Hey, I have not posted anything about Tr*mp (whose name is a swear in our house, like, “Go tr*mp yourself”). Sometimes it’s good to vent.
No image, because ewwwwww. Tagged under “Jerks” for ABC Wednesday.
Peace, Amy
If She Were
If she were a cuticle
she’d be bleeding
If she were road kill, she’d be
half in a crow’s belly
This country
These headlines
The prospects, so bleak
She’s dog tired
Bone weary
Dog bone busted
© 2016 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
ABC Wednesday is on the letter “I” and seems to be pointing toward writing one’s own life. Strange to write these thoughts in the third person; yet, to claim all this as mine feels like defeat.
I am hopeful, but this reality is taking its toll…
Peace, Amy
Bright Brit (For Alan Rickman)
That smooth sotto voce baritone
A voice for the ages
The prominent proboscis
Teeth that said, “Yeesss, I’m from England”
Slightly sibilant ‘s’
A peculiar British drawl
The singular instrument that was his voice
Hilarious or reserved
Alien or Austin
Wizard or Will Shakespeare
He was all of it, and sublime
We lost a good one that day
but the work lives on
in velvet couplets
and spells cast
© 2016 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Had to come out of the cold to pay tribute to a wonderful man. Alan Rickman was one of my favorite actors. Yes, there was the loss of Bowie, but Rickman’s talents touched me in unexpected ways. I fell in love with him in “Truly Madly Deeply” (no commas in that title – see the film to find out why).
Lex and Riley and I quote his Dr. Lazarus from “Galaxy Quest” incessantly – “By Grabthar’s Hammer… what a savings,” and “…five curtain calls!”
Rickman had the knack of being droll when others were chewing scenery. He was a generous actor and colleague. He stayed true to the same woman for 50 years! Who even does that in the performing arts?!
I miss him. Thanks to ABC Wednesday for hosting my scribblings, the first in months.
Livin’ on the Minimum Wage
© 2014 Music & Lyrics by Amy Barlow Liberatore/Beehat Baby Words & Music
Dedicated to the fight for economic justice in the USA
CHORUS:
Livin’ on the minimum wage
Slavin’ for the man who don’t need more
Bet he never felt what it’s like to be poor
My life’s a story of this sad age
I’m livin’ – givin’ – livin’ on the minimum wage
St. Vinny pray for me and mine
Jeans and sneaks and hoodies I’ve gotta find
Squeezin’ every dollar ‘til the eagle screams
Fight in pantry lines for the rice and beans
Where’s my golden ticket? Want a golden ticket!
Where’s my golden ticket? Need a golden ticket!
CHORUS
Does my congressman know what it means
WalMart and McDonald’s don’t pay beans
Put ‘em all together, it’s full-time work
If my kids get sick, then my boss is a jerk
“Doncha got a sitter? You should have a sitter!”
If I had the money… SURE I’d have a sitter!
CHORUS
Waitin’ in the clinic with the kids today
Cut off my Medicaid, now I’ve gotta pay
Why they tryin’ to tell me I make too much
Daycare, rent, food, gas, and such
Man, they make it harder. Why they make it harder?
Life is getting harder… I won’t be a martyr!
CHORUS
I wrote this song (think “Brother, Can You Spare A Dime?” vibe for music… sorry, I don’t have a recording) for a Justice and Witness Ministries event at our United Church of Christ here in Madison, WI. Have we all worked minimum wage/maximum effort jobs? Sure, in our teens, our twenties, maybe… But nowadays, I see parents, grandparents, all slaving for a buck.
We need to do better by our workers. This is America, a country of immigrants who seem to have forgotten that we stole the whole deal from the Tribal Nations and then “imported” human beings like cattle to build it up for free. We need to regain a sense of humility and compassion. That’s my Labor Day prayer.
For ABC Wednesday, I for Income Inequality! Amy
Dear Straight Guys,
It’s not like darts
Not if you’re smart
Not “point and shoot”
It’s not like b-ball
Not at all
She’s more than a rim to hit
and webbing to fall through
She’s neither mark nor target
The real woman lies beyond
what you’ll see
when you see her
As much as she wants you
(and make damned sure she wants you,
or we’ll have more than words, little man)
she needs even more
What lies within us is a world
An ecosystem
A universe of the delicate sublime,
of intricate, meandering passages
She’s a labyrinth and you must
must must must
caress the key, finesse the lock
with time and care, the kind
you’ve never shown your own
So talk to her
Let her guide you
She has places that need
the same soft kisses you place on her mouth
down south at the delta
And just in case you still think
you hold all the power, here’s a thought
After you don the raincoat to
dance in the lovely dew, think about this:
Whose parts will disappear in the meeting?
Who welcomes in, and who is swallowed up?
She has unfathomable fathoms
of phantom bliss
Remember that
from the very first kiss
© 2015 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For ABC Wednesday, we are on the letter F. That’s for “finesse,” you naughty children. Also on the Tuesday Platform at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads! Amy
PRO-LIFE FOR DUMMIES
This bundle of cells
inside my body
must be protected
from me
This knot of matter
matters more
than the human host
My uterus must be guarded
lest my brain decide otherwise
since my brain is flawed
because I am only a woman
and you know better
and babies must be born
and intra-uterine ultrasounds are cool
(not a form of rape)
Even though the condom broke
The Pill failed
The boyfriend abused
The husband wanted and took
The father fathered
The stranger raped
Even though I know I
cannot raise this child in love
in security and hope
and the schools you provide
will never educate
and the help you will offer
is skewered by bitter judgments
After all that, you have
no words of condemnation or obligation
for the sperm donor
for the “father”
(who will never be a father)
My uterus must be protected
from my logical brain
Lord, save me from Christians
who believe pro-birth is pro-life
© 2015 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Sometimes it has to be political. Sometimes it’s so obvious. You are welcome to comment, but please don’t SCREAM AT ME IN ALL CAPS. And no foul language, because everyone knows what a prude I am!
For ABC Wednesday, once they post today, E for Extremist. Also for Poetry Pantry at Poets United, where you will find an abundance of diverse voices. Give these sites a try. Take the leap! Amy
Double-click to see full version, created by Amy verrrrry late one night during the Yikes! Cymbalta! Cycle, which is still going strong – forecasted to continue at least four more months. For ABC Wednesday, the letter is T! Thanks, Rog and the Team…
Response to Great White Whines
So sorry you’re perturbed
That your lunch was disturbed
by our chanting
in the hallowed halls of
the food court
Loud voices demanding change, laying down
bodies; a die-in to protest
killing of unarmed black men
We were faces of all shades
chanting in one voice:
“Black lives matter”
Indigestion? You had it coming
© 2015 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
ABC Wednesday, Q for Quandary… I am called white; Anglo; WASP, even, which stands for the ubiquitous White, Anglo-Saxon Protestant – and I stand with Black Lives Matter protesters. This is a natural extension of following Jesus, an enduring symbol of love at its best, embracing everyone as family. I admit I have a hard time embracing bigots; it’s my Christian learning curve.
White folks often cloak their racism in whitespeak, without realizing they are being offensive and ignorant. A good example was this true story above, where a white woman complained to other white women at JCPenney in my presence. She said, “They have the right to complain, but… do they have to use the food court? I had to try and explain what was happening to my granddaughter.” I replied, as evenly as I could, “I was one of the protesters. If you need help explaining it to her, let me know.” She was shocked.
She didn’t want my help. She merely wanted to bitch about being inconvenienced in the smallest of ways… some noise during her fast-food lunch. And she didn’t listen anyway, so I wonder what exactly she told her granddaughter. If she had listened, she would have understood that this was an organized, peaceful exercise of free-speech rights, planned in conjunction with mall security, who were informed by the group beforehand. We were protesting the recent killing of Dontre Hamilton, an unarmed young black man with schizophrenia who had gone off his meds and was killed by a white police officer who discharged 14 bullets. Wisconsin – America – has a race problem, and it’s up to all of us to solve it.
Other Great White Whines:
Why do “they” have to tie up traffic during rush hour? (They? Really? Let’s start there…)
Why aren’t “they” nice like Martin Luther, King? The same people would complain about Dr. King if he was still alive. In fact, they would whine about any public assembly that calls for accountability, when it’s the white race being called out for unthinking privilege.)
My quandary is that I’m a white civil rights advocate. Racists, beige like me, assume I will tolerate their whining, when in fact I don’t, bluntly. And, at first glance, people of color see me as “one of the crackers,” which I’m not.
Many thanks to Mrs. Nesbitt for starting ABC Wednesday, and special thanks to Roger and the ABC gang for keeping those letters rollin’! A great collective. Amy
Sharp Little Pencil 