After the debates in the NYS Gubernatorial race, I was soooo pleased that Poetic Asides posted the prompt, “What I Like About…” This is an equal opportunity offender! Even the Dems get it in the butt!
WHAT I LOVE ABOUT THE 2010 NYS RACE FOR GUV
Sure, Cuomo’s in
but I watched the debates anyway
Hoping to see Paladino explode
but he ran offstage to do his exploding in the men’s room
He must have been tranquilized
I didn’t hear a single remark about gays being damned or that his son is STRAIGHT, dammit
I have no horse in this race
since the all-but crowned winner
is same old, same old
and his daddy held the office first
and I saw how that played out in the White House
But the also-rans were great
A former madame for the Anti-Prohibition Party
who, while endorsing legalized marijuana and casinos,
did not endorse legalizing prostitution
Now there’s a confused person
The RENT IS TOO DAMN HIGH Party
I swear, I couldn’t make this stuff up
Col Sanders is now black
andtalkssofastyoucanhardlykeepup
And while rent may BE high
I cannot in good conscience give them my vote
Because the correct name should be
The Rent Is Too DAMNED High Party
I hate bad grammar
Loved the Greens cause they love the earth
Great agenda on the environment
They understand that ‘hydro-fracturing’
is actually ‘hydro-chemicals-including-methane-fracturing’
You can’t frack without chemicals
As Starbuck would say, “Don’t frack with me”
Libertarian, suitably stern
Would privatize everything
and we’d watch our houses burn
if we didn’t keep up our fire dept. payments
Cuomo, silk-suitably smug
Talked like a weiner
I mean winner
There were more candidates, I think
But these were the standouts
I’m going to start my own party
and call it:
The Price Of Prostitutes Is Too Damn High/Don’t Frack With Me/Legalize Pot/Tax The Rich Til They’re Poor/Health Care For All/If You Want To Wear A Hijab or Other Arabic Dress In Public, Juan Williams Will Have To Get The Hell Over It
…Party
This week at Writer’s Island, we were asked to think about masquerades. First one was heavy, so I decided it was time for a little more fun. Easy, my Tea Party friends, it’s just a poem! Amy
SCARY COSTUME
This year, Halloween’s too easy
Red suit, sharp and stiff, not sleazy
Hair up in a shiny bun
Posture of a warring Hun
Sensible dark-rimmed wire glasses
Worn especially for the masses
“Shopped around, I’m really smart
Picked them up at our WalMart”
Smile until my lips vibrate
Platitudes at rapid rate
Kids, I’ll drag along behind
tied up to my butt with twine
Red high heels from Macy’s, dear
(“WalMart”? Not with my career!)
Vacant stare and “Yeah, you betcha”
Look out! Sarah’s gonna getcha!
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore, Sharp Little Pencil
A Poetic Asides post. An ever-so-delicate look at how women’s bodies change over the years… Enjoy, and then click the link to check out poems by the rest of the gang! Amy
CHANGING
It comes to us all
Those gifted with double-X
The passage of time brings
the curse of our sex
First we get periods
Bloat like balloons
Bitchy and bothered
We cry to full moons
Then comes the part where
if you have some luck
you have a big baby
comes out like a truck
Your skinny jeans gone
to the clothing exchange
Your once-lithe young self
is at once rearranged
Your boobs not your own
‘Cause you share them with baby
and hubby gets jealous
But fools with them? (maybe)
Now gravity takes hold
and Cooper’s Droop socks you
More than a pencil
I can hold a whole box, too
Then finally menopause
There’s God’s big laugh
You sweat and you chill
and your mind’s cut in half
Part of it knowing
what you need upstairs
the other half, getting there,
asking, “What the hell am I doing here and why? There was something I needed up here but I don’t know WILL SOMEBODY TURN DOWN THE HEAT? I’M SWEATING MY ASS OFF!!!”
(c) 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
CIRCLES (You know, for kids*)
My sister brought it home
we all fought over it
until Dad wisely bought enough
for all three sisters to have their own
Three grade-schoolers shimmied, did the hula
Pint-sized Balinese dancers
practicing the ancient, seductive art
of the hula hoop
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
* Special kudos to whomever can name the movie reference first!
Writer’s Island prompt: Another poem with song titles, this time from one of my favorite Beatles albums, Rubber Soul:
MICHELLE
If I needed someone in my life
it wouldn’t be you, said Michelle
I’m looking through you, toward the future
and neither seem too bright
I need someone who says
“Think for yourself” in my life
Don’t wait for me in the Norwegian Wood
You won’t see me there
I’ll drive my car far from you
My mind whispering, “Run for your life”
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
PalinDrone
I ran for Vice President
while killing a moose with an assault rifle
from a helicopter
during labor for my 28th child!
But my daughter flunked her abstinence class
While not as glamorous as the White House
Fox News gives me lots of air time
I go to lots of Tea Parties
and I finally got rid of Todd
Running for President? I’ll get back to ya!
I like to shop at consignment stores
like Bonwit Teller, you betcha
and Macy’s and Tiffany’s
But my favorite accessory is Trig
I carry him around like a badge
(c) 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
written for the Pyramid prompt at Poetic Asides
My father could recite whole works of Robert Service, Rudyard Kipling… but oy, when he sang…
REALLY, REALLY BAD SINGER
Dad sang off key
Really off key. Tragically, even.
He dwelt among women who were
descended from sirens
A wife and three daughters
gifted by God with a keen sense of pitch
and an irrepressible desire to sing
Pop couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket
but he sang along anyway
(oblivious to our pinched noses and wincing)
(yeah, we were pretty snobbish, but only where music was concerned)
He also snapped his fingers out of time
as if completely unaware that rhythm had meaning
“You sing like Dad” was a grave insult
tantamount to an accusation of
letting loose a juicy fart in the car
or getting caught picking your nose
But when Dad sang, he did light up
While we suffered for art, mercifully critiquing each other
never satisfied with the result
Dad would burst into “Mule Train” with gusto
or grin as he stumbled through “Ghost Riders in the Sky”
He never knew he couldn’t sing
He just did it anyway
He didn’t care if anybody liked it or not
A life lesson in Q Flat
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
We were prompted to write about a fork in the road; a change in direction; a crossroads, and the path taken – or not taken.
As usual, I took a different path… on the prompt! Enjoy a bit of whimsy. Amy
SILVER WHERE (Writer’s Island, Imagine)
Humid sultry unbearable walking-through-hot-water August midday
Trying to catch even the echo of a slight breeze
Wandering in the shade trees of Topanga Canyon
A glint
A glimmer of shiny something
half-hidden under leaves blown to the side of the road
during yesterday’s languidly moving air
A fork
Did someone toss it out the window with their takeout Chinese
forgetting that it came from a drawer in their home
(the ants feast on leftover Boiled Tripe and Things in a nearby discard0
Was there a fight and it was flung in a rage? From a moving car?
Or was it Julia Butterfly Hill, who takes environmentalism so seriously
she packs knife, fork, spoon, napkin, cup, and plate in her handbag
lest she be served on styrofoam with plastic utensils
Did her legendary self wander this road? Did the fork get tired of wandering?
Did it share tearful, tarnish-inducing goodbyes
with her fellow knife and spoon
before skinnying out a hole in the bottom of Julia’s bag?
The fork is with me today; I shine it often and smile at happenstance
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore, Sharp Little Pencil
FUNDAY
Today she will wear pjs to the market
part her hair on the other side
run a teabag through the coffee grinder
and put orange juice on her cereal
Today is a turquiose-eye-shadow kind of day
A braless Wednesday
as The Girls dangle near her belt
A day for Dollar Store shopping
She’ll buy a Liberace DVD
and two cans of Beefaroni, even though she’s vegan
Barefoot on the sidewalk
Deliberately stepping in dog poop just to feel the squish
and leaving human pawprints behind as she
heads for the library to read Ayn Rand
backwards
Today is a day for yodeling
on Main Street
And writing lesbian love letters to Sara Palin
Wednesdays are made for fun
(c) 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Sharp Little Pencil 