fallback

and denial creeps in

it has a way about it

surreptitious silent habitual 

the fallback the go to the familiar

a wise mechanism protective safe

a comforting womb warm embracing

here, have a cup of tea brewed with birth water

steeped in disappointment

welcome settle in denial kisses the top of your

head sings lullabies into your ears 

you sleep you float you cope once again

©Karen Casady2018

boundary

and now I’m confused

put off and cut off by

a boundary a line in

the sand that cannot be

crossed I cannot forget

the image of you throwing

a tantrum the drama of which

belonged on stage but for the fact

that was really happening in front of

me as I silently watched unable to

process it because I have never borne

witness to such behavior and for that I

am grateful and no I was

not afraid nor was I angry instead I sat

in quiet disbelief to the episode that unfolded

before me and as quickly as you started you ended

not because you caught yourself but because somehow

you’d finished what you had to say nay scream nay howl

nay roar though that word implies the king of beasts

the lion in all its magnificence and glory

neither of which describe what I watched and now when

I look at you I can’t forget that you were that person even

as you go back to being yourself I cannot forget the violence

that became your demeanor and how easily you transformed and

how I now weigh the possibilities of enduring another momentary loss

of control and how now I am wont to confront you even gently for fear

of a repeat performance so yes now, I am cut off and put off by a boundary a line

in the sand that cannot be crossed because I cannot forget what happened

©Karen Casady2018

apparition

my dear madam

might I join you in that

shot of vodka though I

feel certain of your answer

you must hear me out for I

want only to participate in your

triumph to aid you in your endeavors

flattered that I am how could I possibility

hold sway over you I mean not to cast a

shadow over you but rather to be your shadow

a mere apparition a slight phantom an admiring daydream

who slips into your mind and body

in this singular act I cannot be stopped

©Karen Casady2018

singular

my dear sir

busy though you maybe I

retain the right to be busier and

that my oeuvre might take precedence

over yours that the stuff of my doing

and being overrides all attention I may

or may not confer upon you and  

how dare I not have time for you

and your roguery your enticements and

your bustle ever so beguiling enough to distract

me from my singular purpose of mastery and 

attainment that I would even allow such a thing to

to come between me and triumph but 

you beckon and I resist you enchant and I waiver 

you fascinate and I am spellbound to the degree that only a splash of cold water upon my face and 

a shot of vodka chugged can return me to 

my state of determination

©Karen Casady2018

Invitation

invite yourself? 

yes of course

why don’t you

first time

last time

an intrusion upon my sacred ground

no more

never again

ask though you might

the answer will be no

always no

you trampled my cherished garden

tried to make it your garden

it will never be your garden

you are a weed

here swallow some DDT

©Karen Casady2018

dust

And what about that

braying anger and that 

beastly shouting and the 

raucous stomping of your feet

a violent stampede meant to 

upend and trample all reason and

symmetry to disable sanity in hopes of

dragging the rational into the depths of

dark confrontation where the muck of 

life comes apart and tornados rage with 

only the intent of destruction and obliteration 

and I sit and take note and wait till the storm

passes and search my integrity and find that I

am intact and unharmed but you combusted and

now lie on the floor disguised as a contrite pile of

shit destined to dry into non-amendable dust

©Karen Casady2018

When I bought my first pair of

hiking boots my mother said, 

“What do you need THOSE for?”

To which I retorted, “For hiking.”

And she waved me away with a flick

of her hand.

When my daughter bought 

her first pair of hiking boots I said,

“THOSE will last a long time.”

To which she replied, “An investment.”

And I nodded as I laced up my 

old worn brown lovelies.

©Karen Casady2018

 

bromance

you choose

him or 

me

bromance or

romance

though I admit to

a lack of romance and

perhaps to a liking of those

evenings alone 

eating friendly strawberry crepes while

watching luscious chic flicks then

sprawling alone on our bed

falling asleep feet tucked under the hound

©Karen Casady2018

In response to Douglas MacKinnion’s article “How Long Will I Be Allowed To Remain A Christian?” (http://www.foxnews.com/opinion/2018/04/21/how-long-will-be-allowed-to-remain-christian.html)

Hey dude. Man up and quit your whining. 

We Jews have put up with anti-semitism for two thousand years. And, oh wait. Who came up with the idea of Jews as Christ killers? Oh let me think. 

And, oh wait. Crusading Christian knights heading to the Holy Land to free it from Islam stopped along the way to slaughter Jews. Why wait to get to the Holy Land to murder infidels. 

Oh, and the Spanish Inquisition. Adopt Christianity or die. And, oh wait.The granddaddy of all. The Final Solution. Six million Jews gassed, shot, starved simply because, wait for it, they were Jews.

So dude, quit your whining. 

You folks have done your darnedest to rid the world of us folks. Unabashedly and unapologeticly. So we Jews have our doubts over your concerns. You are, after all, the majority. You do, in fact, wield great swaths of power.

And, oh wait. Much to your consternation, we Jews seem to survive. Tenaciously and unapologeticly. And, you folks seem to forget that Jesus was a circumcised Jewish man preaching to his fellow Jews. Oh, how quickly that is swept under the rug. 

Hey dude. Man up and quit your whining.

©Karen Casady2018

mythology

She bought into his mythology.

Counted her change. Penny by penny. 

She plunked down her fortune.

Of course she did. 

For better or for worse. In sickness and in health.
She’s always there. She believes. She needs to believe.
Anything. Everything. Or there is nothing. 

A void. 

A vastness too broad to cross. 

The soles of her feet burn as she tries. The soul of her heart sears through her brain. Seals her eyes, nose and mouth. So she stumbles without vision and worships her god. 

©Karen Casady2018

Liar

They lied. 

He lied.

The most powerful man in this country.

He lied. 

I cannot tell a lie, George Washington

The cherry tree

What happened to I cannot tell a lie

The most powerful man in this country

Oh let’s just lie about it, they said

Let’s just make up a story

I paid him back

So he says now

After deciding to lie

Lying trumps truth saying

And the believers say, see we knew it

And the truth sayers flabbergasted fall silent

And even the comics can’t laugh

And we wonder where the monks are

The ones who poured fuel upon themselves

Lit a match and burned for hypocrisy 

They’d be called mad men

Their charred remains blown away

©Karen Casady2018

birth day 4/18

Birth day. Day of birth. The

day we pop out of our 

mothers’ vaginas. We squall.

We protest. We beg for 

return. For none of us ever dream

of leaving the womb. We miss

its warm liquid darkness We

long for its steady beating heart. 

Most of us feel the immediate embrace of 

loving arms. Steadfast. Comforting. And 

kisses. Millions of them planted in upon

our tiny soft heads. 

But some of us pop out and we wait 

to hear a beating heart. And we wait 

for loving arms. And kisses. For us that
is our normal. Because we don't know. 

Later, we wonder what happened. 

©Karen Casady2018

for better or worse

“Why do you stay married to her?” you ask.

the difficulties between them magnified by multitudes of acrimony… by charmlessness… by a never-ending cramp in your wellbeing… a gut-wrenching tableau endlessly unfolding

“For better or worse,” he responds.

worse is better than better… better is worse than worse… the hell?... worse is better than nothing… nothing is better than worse… better never happens

“Fine,” you say. “Fine.”

you shake your head… throw up your arms… better or worse falters… fades… drops away… drained to sodden drivel… a sudden puddle splattered… a big bang… you are gone

©Karen Casady2018

safety

so you go through the motions of

living and loving and you do stuff for

appearances and sometimes you feel

content and sometimes not but mostly

you walk between fair and middling hovering

above okay and just so to achieve your day but

sometimes you wonder about beyond the middle

about ecstasy or utter despair yet these things elude

you so you build a wall of invisible stasis and no one knows

how empty safety can be

©Karen Casady 2018

nest

when you realize it is

torn to shreds fine pieces that 

curl and float nothing hurts as they

flick and bounce around you landing

for a moment as you blow them away 

these ashes of the past remnants burnt solids

all that is left but you nestle among them and 

make a soft empty nest surrounded by the 

vastness of loss from which there is 

no return

no sound 

only silence

©Karen Casady 2018

 

daytime blur

hidden from view

buried in lost time

nighttime secrets become

daytime blurs spinning quiet

disasters awkward with

blown out words and nonsensical 

expressions and blank faces all around

because a hundred times ago a

million seconds before a trusted hand

covers her mouth while stars shimmer

on the ceiling and her body explodes from

the lightness the touch but 

her mind screams no all too late

because it is done 

©Karen Casady 2018

spittoon

He chews tobacco.

She hates it.

He has a brass spittoon under his desk.

She hates it.

His teeth are yellow

She hates them.

Always the pouch. The orange pouch. 

She hates that too.

He takes a pinch. The brown fragrant leaves.

She hates the stink. 

He invites her to chew. 

She hates him.

Why do you stay married to her I ask.

For better or worse he says.

©Karen Casady 2018

dalliance

and one more time she

appeared and appearances

count for something especially when

they occur in a dream during a long night’s dalliance

when restoration of the mind is essential and 

tensions melt away not accumulate; but she moved 

through the night doing odd things as characters who inhabit dreams often do; and though the details now elude me; shattered by dawn; shredded by sunlight; the concept of her returns once again; and hangs as sultry translucent threads swaying willy-nilly in 

disturbing nonsense 

©Karen Casady 2018

bag

perchance the self righteous
the always right
the always knowing
the only one way
the no other way
and the indignation
and the anger
stuffed into the bag
that you are left holding
writhing and misshapen even though
the job is done and
everyone has walked away
including you
©karen casady 2018

bowl of cereal

upset angry put out out of sorts

find the adjective

take out the thesaurus

run down the list

jagged early morning serotonin levels

fly up and down at amazing rates

cause head explosions

tired tweaked whacked jerked

maybe the weather

maybe mercury in retrograde

maybe solar flairs

maybe just get up

maybe just have a bowl of cereal

©karen casady 2018

paradigm

My dear madam

why? you ask why and

though I deign it quite

personal and proprietary

as things artistic often are with

you I will share my reasons because

I cannot care what others think though

some may like my work while others may not

but it does not matter all that matters is

what I think and how I feel though that is

hard because my skin is so thin you can see through it

but translucent though it may be it remains taunt and strong impenetrable

keeping out barbs and harm protecting my inner soul sustaining its warmth and safety

against the naysayers and misanthropes the skeptics and disparagers those that scoff

disdain and deride because I cannot please them nor do I try because in the end it is only

myself that I have myself to whom I answer myself that must be satisfied and though you may or

may not understand this paradigm it is to that ideal I must adhere lest my truth abandon me to sit motionless voiceless sightless

©Karen Casady 2018

then so and

his heart broke
a long time ago

they did the surgery

to repair it

they added a stint

to help it along

and gobs of medication

to slow it down

then

came job after job

and everyone passed him up

and no solution existed

and no work could fix it

and every new idea bent and folded

so

he smiled an empty smile

and he laughed an empty laugh

but the bitterness leaked from his eyes

and it spread before him

and he sank as he walked

©Karen Casady 2018

cats and dogs

Prompt: make a list of your different layers of identity; ways you could be described or lenses through which you could be viewed. Now write a poem in which one of the identities from the list contends or talks with another.

List: Wife mother daughter student friend writer poet playwright journalist retired dog owner cat lover parrot buddy collaborator colleague producer expediter lazy ass woman tea connoisseur dieter napper Clevelander Angeleno Bearcat Trojan sports fan theatergoer flute player piccolo player musician reader news junkie sponsor philanthropic wordsmith drives a Fiat

So:

Dogs are more wont to be owned than cats.

                                           Asking why is futile.

This statement is a fact.

I have never met an owned cat.

Never ask why about a cat.

You might get an answer.

You will not like it.

Always ask why about a dog.

They will oblige.

You still will not like it.

If cats were larger they would eat us.

If dogs were larger…

Cats are stuff doers.

Dogs do stuff.

                                           Do not ask why.

                                                                                      You will not like the answer.

                                          

Cats make biscuits.

                                           Do not tell them.

                                                                                      They will not believe you.

 Dogs like balls.

                                           You do not need to tell them.

                                                                                      They know. They know. They know.

All in all:

Big dogs are lap dogs.                  Cats are uni-sized.

Small dogs yap and bite.              Cats have claws in their paws.

Dogs are stiff.                                 Cats are pliable.                              

Dogs grunt.                                     Cats purr.                                         

Dogs fart.                                        Cats puke hairballs.                        

Owner? Lover? Lover? Owner? Cat? Dog? Dog? Cat?

                                           Do not attempt an answer.

Choice is not possible.

©Karen Casady 2018

bad strawberry

a tweak a twinge something
odd maybe a bad strawberry maybe
too much caffeine maybe too much
hate maybe too much doubt seizes the
gut cringing with fear looking past transparent
niceness into eyes of malicious evil capable of
devising plots of destruction hiding behind ineptitude
and mindlessness lurking danger get out get out stay no
stay vigilance always vigilance and honesty perpetual
honesty and the goodness and compassion mashup
explode out her ass and shatter the glass bowl of her life

©Karen Casady 2018 

vagueness

when your heart sinks but
you don’t know why when you
search but no answers come when
sadness envelopes you but leaves you
puzzled by its vagueness when something
turns to nothing and you see the end as a
possibility but you turn away from it because the
unknown frightens you and you prefer the comfort of the
known because you realize that it takes more courage to live than to
die so you fall back upon your shroud of despair and wrap it tightly around
you so you do not fall and never get up 
©Karen Casady 2018

conundrum

words just one maybe two
three for sure when lined up
in just the right order link arms
and jump for their lives sacrificing
context for the greater good or so it seems
spoken to explain away problematic conundrums
to offer up reason in an otherwise circular discourse
but rather than accomplish the purpose for which they are deigned
they fall flat landing on the earth beneath them and seep into brownness
shapelessness losing the very meaning of their existence but not before
grabbing your face and spitting upon it all the while noting your lesserness

list no poem no list poem

It’s a to do list.

It’s a poem.

It’s a list.

No. A poem.

Let me read it to you.

take the car for service

make an eye doctor appointment

call Afam

fix it fest

renew passport

See. It’s a poem.

It’s a list.

Says who?

I do. It’s my list.

You’ve composed a poem.

I wrote it. It’s a list.

The minute you set your pen to paper it became a poem.

It’s not a poem.

You gave your words to the universe.

It’s a list.

The author leaves the page once the words are set down.

I must take my car for service.

So it can be at the ready.

I need to go to the eye doctor.

All the better to see the world.

Look I haven’t called Afam in a while.

Call Afam if you must.

I’ve mending to do with him.

Of course. The fix it fest.

My passport is expired.

Then by all means renew it. So you will be free to flee in your now sturdy car because the mending of things with Afam proved foolhardy and you saw it all too clearly through new eyes.

It’s a to do list.

It’s a poem.

©Karen Casady 2018

diminished discourse

for a brief second it
flashes by
an image so
familiar it is the present
as though things never changed over
the years of nothing for no reason of
diminished discourse subdued into
silence so profound it echoes through
nerves and grey matter rattling stunning in
its quiet now shaken alive she sits wearing the
same clothes
same shoes
same expression
looking beyond laughing
smiling lulling in sweetness
and through a gasp an attempt to
reach back recover the image save it
in order to turn it savor it remember grasp
at long moments of contentment but
it disappears as quickly as it showed itself
and the rift bloody and sorrowful rips open again
heart torn from chest the mind sifts through debris
and comes up short
and sad

©Karen Casady 2018

rude tongue

My dear sir

I pray answer me
you chose a terrible subject
because perhaps of a desire
to portray to emote to inhabit
an impossible character and
I waited for the tears my tears
but they never appeared though I did
have one moment that moment of
loss that second of a child missing and
that second would never leave me if true
I could never exist in the world suit up and show
up as they say and I would lose my grip never leave my
home never stop crying until one day I would decide to
die and short of that decide to move on but that sense never
happened as I watched your portrayal and was lead along threads
of life that started and stopped went nowhere took me down paths that
drifted never resolving how unsatisfying so I pray you answer me relieve
my puzzlement resolve my discontent quiet my dismay as I wonder why and
hold my rude tongue keep my voice low criticize not one bit
©Karen Casady 2018