concrete slabs
hot and gray in the sun

lifeless non entity
a dandelion with tree dreams
finds a miniscule crack
in this anonymous shield
pokes through
her head crowned
in a golden haze
and nature’s claim
on what is hers begins
who will Gaia send
as the next warrior
probably the bird armies
conveying more seed soldiers
who stalk the weakness
of the spreading enemy

©  Sandy Vrooman

The Chili That Died In My Freezer

Cooking for one can be difficult

Washing pots and pans

After just one meal

Tedious

So I started cooking big pots

Of stews and soups

Putting them in containers to freeze

Handy

One day the freezer was full

But of what

I had neglected labels

Mysterious

Those that had become, politely

Freeze dried, their liquids zapped

Into ice crystals on top

Tossed

Some were not identifiable

While others bore a slight resemblance

To what they had been

Desiccated

I found the chili way in the back

Dried little beans sticking up

I buried them

Sadly

© 2007 Krystall Knobbs

Persephone consort of Hades

Decided to throw a party

Before she left for her summer holiday

They invited Jaguar, Donn, Afallach, Osiris

And others to a take out pizza fest

Sepphie, as they called her

Ordered extra peppers and garlic

Tlazolteotl chatted with Pwyll

And consumed twelve pieces of the delectable repast

Scathach said she preferred haggis

While Odin, on a dare, ate five heads of garlic

And ten packages of peppers

It is predicted that the cumulative fart

From the underworld will erupt

Some time soon near Pompeii

Mahui Iki thought they should concentrate on Oahu

Kalma is still waiting for hell to freeze over

© Krystall Knobbs

morning's low fog

wrapped around the bay

just waiting

for the curtains to open

and the show to begin

beach cut cliffs

towering up from the sea

like book pages

revealing a vast expanse

of journeys and time

like a lover's caress

beach waves seduce land

into giving

part of herself in return

for perceived affection

making love

is similar to playing bridge

it is best

to have a partner

with a good hand

© 2007 Kitsune Miko

Rosie

Rosie was my first baby doll

I got her when my sister was born

So I could act like Mommy

They got me a puppy too

The puppy and I would sit

Under my sister's crib and pee

I got spanked and the puppy vanished

Afraid to ask lest I go too

I took off all of Rosie's clothes

Put her in a box in the closet

And said she was napping

They were worried

I never liked Rosie

I supposed that was because

I had to like my sister

Displaced displacement anxiety

Many years later for a kid

My evil boy cousin and I

Took Rosie outside to play

Swung her round and round

Tossed her into an empty lot

Never to be found again

It was only as an adult

That I regretted this last act

I wonder about the decomposition

Of her composite head and arms

The rotting of her cotton stuffed body

How others still have that first doll

Reminiscing on the fact that

It was thought natural for a girl

To know what to do

With a baby doll back then

These instincts we are taught

By watching others with children

How do we learn then

If we are the first child

Of an only child Mother

Isolated from the pack

With their human puppies

And alpha instructors

Why are we found lacking

If we don't know how to

Be appropriately mothering

Until so much later

© 2007 Sandy Vrooman

divested of all possessions trees prepare for meditation autumn leaves.

round about midnight, revised

short circuited wireless memories

play love songs in my second molar

by a baroque calliope orchestra

in inverse reversed orders of being

and the dancing bananas trip ‘n split

into ringtone rap chamber quartets

in bits and bytes of caramel syrup

oh! nuts, I forgot the maraschinos

no virgins this sundae for sacrifice

without spoons we will have to improvise

© 2009 Sandy Vrooman

we come forward

without instruction manuals

hearts and minds empty

ready to receive

what is joy

how do we tell

right from wrong

and the tablets

are thrown down to us

written in hieroglyphics

with each one singly deciding

what the pictures might mean

we dance over sharp stones

calling our pains pleasure

because we never see

what is inside

we pick the one

who lays claim to the key

© 2008 Sandy Vrooman

Senior dating research

As I continue
My hands on research
Into the dating practices
Of the senior citizen on the internet
I begin to reminisce
About the days of yore
When one eyed the object of affection
Cross a crowded room with longing
And sought the proper connection
To have an introduction
A process that moved slowly
And now we have speed dating
Where one can “talk” to five
Likely candidates for 15 minutes each
And make a decision
On how many children we should have
And whether the china and crystal
Need to match
It seems to be a time
When the monograms on towels
Need to be detachable

Copyright by Krystal Knobbs*
A subsidiary of Kitsune Miko Enterprises

couched in the quiet mind

somnambulant

dreams of new mown hay

the once arid desert

fecund, bursting into flower

nourished only

when the gods remember

to water

tiny tip toes

on spider legs

on ant legs

on fly legs

across

the white flower

a romance

or just a dance

making and avoiding

the delicate movements

of the bug shit blues

© 2011 Sandy Vrooman

as a muse

my teacher

called me his muse

said I helped him

feel again

he could write poems

from the heart

from the gut

not the dead

academic stuff

which is the part

you can teach

teaching heart access

is almost impossible

I impassioned him

to go beyond

he finally

convinced me

to dress

as a greek goddess

and dance for him

he took me

in every possible way

when I complained

he said he knew

that I was a whore

by profession

and that

I shouldn’t mind

I pointed out

we had no contract

he couldn’t understand

never understanding

the give and take

of love

© 2009 Krystall knobbs

day attempts beginning

with indecision

gray, sun, gray, sun

the world waits a verdict

birds with heads under wings

peer out, checking

should they sing or hide

cats hide nose in paws

and feign sleep

trees at attention, waiting

waiting, waiting

for the crescendo crash

of the overture that will

announce the plot

but day continues

undecided

life a game of billiards

and we remain

bouncing off the shoulders

of each other

© 2010 Sandy Vrooman

Bad Girls

it was the bad girl

the one with dirty thoughts

unfit for nice girls

shunned by all

including her mother

who though sex

was something

you let your husband do

half a life spent

trying to be accepted

by a criteria

that objectified women

render them helpless

smart enough to stay dumb

she decided instead

to be good at being bad

© 2011 Sandy Vrooman

Dona Quixote

both the horse and I are old

my hair now matches his

our armor no longer shines

the squire married and has kids

yet there are issues

that call us to ride again

the injustice of power

applied to herds of sheep

which follow the lead dog

even over a cliff

what do they see when we ride

a little old lady in tennis shoes

carrying a picket sign

a feather in the wind

to the powerful

but can they attend

to an army of us

marching in the spirit of freedom

and justice

they can’t see the horse or armor

do we accept tilting at windmills

playing at Joan of Arc

a band of individuals

or can we join

with one loud voice

riding a herd of wild horses

lances poised

in favor of social issues

tending rather than killing

in a holy war for oil

© 2008 Sandy Vrooman

bit on the back side

finally got me a man

in my bed

mebe not the right man

but least a living one

with all his moving parts

and that muse

the one cattin’ around

for months

leavin’ me high and dry

starts a scratchin’

at my back door

got a fine bottle of wine

and some flowers

do I let him in

so he can use me so bad

I ain’t good for nuttin’ else

then he run off again

or go back to my bed

and the livin’ man

the one who come

when I call quiet like

slippin’ into my bed

like silk

or that muse boy

who buy me a big hat

with a red feather

show me off

all over town

like we was king and queen

the church ladies

talkin’ behind their hands

they talk anyways

even talk about my boobs

claimin’ I’s tryin’

to breast feed

the whole damn world

they jus jealous

there no brown sugar

in they sour mouths

I tells the muse boy

it’s my time

mebe he come back tamarra

I feed him then

© 2009 Krystall Knobbs

One night stand contract

The fuckor of the first part
Will guarantee the fuckee
Of the second part
Only the third part
Of absolutely nothing
The guarantor fuckee
Agrees to be fucked
By the fuckor
Without recompense
Except for those
Dreams either
Fuckee or fuckor
Bring to the package
Dreams may be traded
Only if equal in value
To the dream
Offered in exchange
Except for bodily fluids
No other exchange
Of tangible value
Is covered by this
Implied agreement
There is no guarantee
That an exchange
Of dreams and or
Bodily fluids
Will bring
True love
Or even joy
But we can hope

Copyright 6-2-03 by the
Poetess Kitsune Miko

Street songs #15

she went the way
of all his high school awards
back of the closet
on a shelf
he spent their retirement
on the new trophy – wife
who cleaned his closets
and threw her out
she sits on the curb
of his mind
can live with their son
but it's not the same
his wife is in charge
when they send her money
she lives in a cheap motel
otherwise it is the street
under the park bench
next to the dumpster
that holds unwanted
memories



© 2007 Sandy Vrooman

Bag Lady Blues

I woke up this mornin’
my sleeping grate cold
I woke up this mornin’
feeling so old
kids don want gramma
around any more
kids don want gramma
to come in the door
lonely so cold and so wet
my shopping cart lost
I try to forget
how I got here
I is so numb
got no more fear

my blankets got frost
the dumpster is locked
I is so hungry nothing to eat
The dumpster is locked
oh lord just give me some heat
my husband a gambling man
he didn’t bring nothing home
my husband a gambling man
trouble follow like a broken comb
no teeth no use and always alone
the kids they got out
forget about me
the ones I had carried
and sat on my knee
don care to remember
I set them free

© 2007 Sandy Vrooman

Street Songs 2

a heap of rags
asleep on the sidewalk dreaming
of a Jesus, Joseph and Mary
chess set complete with
Satan and his luscious minions
of temptation
scantily clad
forgetting God and the game at stake
he joins the fun loving side
only to have them desert him
when he wakes

© 2007 Sandy Vrooman

Street songs 17

knight wizard of the streets
knows the true names
of all demons which haunt
the back alleys and dark corners
bagging them and moving
always moving
to confuse them
so they can't find their ways
those ways of torment
in falling nightmares
he knows that demons feed
on cold sweat

Posted by Sandyat 8:29 PM

Street Songs 16

cricket lullabies
sing again in the parks
under the benches
giving comfort
to street dwellers
of all kinds
and the coyotes
take a census of those
in their charge
seeing who has survived
another winter on the streets

© 2007 Sandy Vrooman

Street Songs 12

coyotes pull cougar’s tails
shit on park benches
and laugh at dogs
tricksters all, they
show the foibles of living
to those who can still see
the heart blind
see only the damage they do
never learning the lesson
they teach

© Sandy Vrooman

Street Songs 10

her legs wrapped
in quilt batting and duct tape
a private person
shunning society
in tune with sunshine
and earthworm symphonies
like a shadow haunting
warm corners
they put a divider
in the middle of the bench
she called home
no loitering
she walks and walks
waiting for the winds
to take her away

(c) 2007 Sandy Vrooman