Juneteenth

I am no poet
and not even a wordsmith
but I am an angry old lady
maybe only a broad
because why on earth
does stupidity reign supreme
in this land  of the "free"
No one is ever free of anything
except the nihilists
and even a so-called denier
is not alone in the society
Maybe I am not as good
as I should be but - fuck -
nobody is - it is the human
in us all

I am no bard
and not even a lyricist
but I am an enraged old gal
perhaps only a dame
furious at why the youngsters do
not rebel more
in the land of the free
I am white European with a
privilege that I did not know
I had - having a visible handicap
so whatever bla bla bla
Not as supportive as I could be
trying harder
but nobody is - it is the the biped
in us all

But just because
I am no singer I squeal
that black lives matter
yellow/red /blue/brown
mixed with genes
all lives matter
learning to hate comes early
history or not be damned
"a damsel in distress"
in Central Park will
not excuse her behavior
nor will any police violence
be accepted -  this so-called
country of the "Free" is
not free at all.

Masks

A mask party a la
Marcel Marceau
Dance around
In a park nude
With a cover
Over your nose
And silent mouth
Saying nothing
Observing only
Your fellow people
As they twirl as well
In the twilight zone
Of true  fairytales
Letting yourself
Be looked at
Realizing that
We are nothing
But humans
What we say is
How we act
As dancers
In life’s ballet
Only  everyone
Does it differently
Grayish bluish
Beamlight on
The specters
In mouth/nose tutus
Twirling the batons
And humping
Undetectably on
Two sticks
It is surely
A mascarade
Of mummanity

Too easy

Too easy to kill
In a country where
Every citizen has
A right to arm
Her- or himself
Where the police
Only needs a
High school diploma
Not even a
Psycho evaluation

Too easy to maim
Your fellow man
Or citizen
And with a shrewd
Lawyer one can
Get away with
Murder or privilege
As long as you
Are white or wealthy
Of any color

Too easy to bully
Anyone different
From yourself
Or your peers
It happens everyday
To the underdogs
Kill maim destroy
Humans and their
Self confidence
It’s easily taught

A unique haiku

my purple penis
filled from the usb port
a woman in bloom

NOW in the US

A black man died of being chocked
by a white police man
repeat ad nauseam
A black woman being shot in her bed
by a white policeman
repat ad nauseam
A white woman's yell for help
in a park - perceived afraid
repeat ad nauseam
police grabbing money and drugs
off people after arresting them
repeat ad nauseam
poor immigrants thrown in jail
because of no papers
repeat ad nauseam
fresh not contaminated water
in Flint and poor neighborhoods
repeat ad nauseam
poverty kills gives illnesses
and fight for life
repeat ad nauseam
and the poor schools not
getting support and good teaching
repeat ad nauseam

--ad nauseam--
--ad nauseam--
---d nausea---
-----nause-----
-----noise-----
---screams---
-can't breathe-
---silence---

quiche quitted?

I forgot how to make a quiche
does that mean - Alzheimer's?
yet I did not bother to look it up
thought I could cook it -
the repast was different
(just as good I might add)
but not the quiche I dreamt off
redo it correctly
or  reframe the words
not as many eggs and no bacon
but ham and mushroom
and the dough was ok -
did not measure that either
can I forgive myself for
forgetting the recipe
although I never use it
the way it is supposed to?
for once -  a quiche acquitted!

Tonnerre nocturne

Dans le climat tempéré

Il change petit à petit 

Sans que personne 

le sache d’une année 

A l’autre tout un coup 

on est dans le subtropical 

Dans une vie femme 

L’échange tombe

D’une année à l’autre

D’une jeunâtes vers

La vieillesse plus

Ou moins pénible 

Entre les deux temps 

Le chaleur et le feu

Rend possible tout

Qui reste mystérieux 

Et humain au sein

D’un tonnerre nocturne 

Brutal

Brutal force rams innocent lives
mostly others than white
why - why - why

Brutal police ruffles to keep order
not friendly at all
why - why - why

Brutality rules the streets in the US
rifles, guns, AK47
why - why - why

Brutal gang wars runs cities
money supports drugs
why - why - why

Brutal penury and needs
is a way of life
why - why - why

Brutal lack of education in cities
too many to a class room
why - why - why

Brutal lives of inhumanity
repeating the circle
why - why - why

Brutal racism in behavior
often in the powers
why - why- why

Brutal absence of empathy
in everyone all over
why- why - why

Brutal racism reigns here
and in the world
why - why -why

Brutal examples of hatred
kills from within
why - why- why

Sadness acrostic

Screaming
about
demeaning
notes
eviscerated
sad
solemnity

Un peu risqué

Le désir reste sur le toi(t)
attendant le grand tronçon
l'ouverture est en moi
hesitant dans un donjon
le berceau s'imprègne
comme un animal d'antan
avec la finesse urbaine
sans trop de s'abandonnant
le luxe de la volupté
le calme dans le petit lit
est un vrai atrocité
ton corps me rajeunie.

Sengekantspoesi

Den sengekant hvorpå jeg sidder
Stille en sen aftentime
Efter en netflixsnydelse
Ja man kan jo selv vælge
Er en enlig kvindes rand
Mange kanter har jeg siddet på
Og nogle har lænet sig indover
En simpel seng hvor jeg var sløj
Mødte jeg for første gang
En venindes mand i Paris
Min mor bekymrede sig ofte
I barndommen læsende højt
Godnathistorier og fortalte
Selvlavede hits om kejseren
Af Kina og hans bedrifter
Af elskeres sengekanter
Er der nok en speciel
En sommer på Skagen
I et loftkammer med
En enkeltmandsseng
Til to - kanten var gedigen
Eller ... nej det hører
Fortiden til - fremtidige
Sengekantsminder begyndte
For år siden med franske
Fortællinger og kvindefnis
Børnebørns sengekanter
Er nu at vente her men også
Hisset dog ikke ofte
På grund af afstanden
Mine sengekantseventyr
Af den muntre slags er
Dengang som nu
Fornøjelige og fantastiske
Som dansere i haremsbukser
Hvirvlende dervisher
I blodrøde gevandter
Og jeg falder i Morfeus’
Arme og driver afsted
- forhåbningsfuldt -
At miraklet indfinder sig
Og jeg sover hele natten

Letters to different lovers

It was your smile that captured me
you looked like a little boy
when we made love
so horror horror - did I fable
that you were younger than that
or maybe I portrayed myself
as a young chick -

It was your hands that grabbed me
you were greedy as the protagonist
we made love
so I knew you just used me
and you never felt what I did
and at that time
I was a young girl

It was your story- telling that hit me
you were my guide to poetry
we made love
my soul mate - you proposed
several instanc es
I couldn't  because
I was a young woman

It was your gentleness that got to me
you  - my husband of many years
you treat me like a queen
we have seen a lot together
Eluding you the first time
I urged you to say yes
and I was younger

It was your kindness that drew me
you were my dancing partner
we made love
we  fun-chase seriously
with music and summers
in spite wintry-weather times
I  still feel young 

Imitation - hopeless

The what and when and where and now
is somewhat the start of a seussical cow
it is a so called verse with words of woe
that comes from my itty bitty red toe
the what has been done - so  now the when
is in place from a great big fat hen
on this day - muggy and overly hot
alas this rhyme is all I have got
When does the where comes from so?
you will find me in a field of fine farro
so the now is not the last of the how
I am sweating - just glance at my brow
Alas - imitation is learning - how not to do
so Mr Geissel - my words have no clue.

In admiration of Theodor Seuss Geisel!
 

Nyt ord -

En veninde sagde
her i landet bruger vi
ikke mange mundbind
Hvabeva?

En coronavirus havde
lukket folk indespærret
og sundheden voksede
œh hmm?

Ja forklarede hun
mundbind er ligesom
hygiejene bind
Nå sådan

La mésolfoque*

Ma jeunesse perdue dans les nuages du temps
commence un poème ridicule romantique
les sentiments affolés d'un amour fantôme
se présentent pour une femelle authentique
sans qu'elle regrette le cycle  tout à fait roulé
qu'elle touche un ère psychosomatique
où la vie devienne tout courte et comptée
chaque moment ne doive être diplomatique
mais reste vrai et absolu - une quête franche
du dernier train d’un destin en tantrique
là - elle embrasse la passion sans gène
et dans la vision de l'univers osmotique
elle lèche les gouttes d'une chimère vraie
en sachant qu'elle n'est qu'un mésolitique.


*une mésolfoque : Une personne qui cherche l'ancienne idiotie encore une fois

Glad to be alive ...but

A pandemic forces
domestication
Of a special kind
Even if you hate
Housework
Grit and daily grind
Its twisted logic
Develops quirks
So the cook
Must cook meals
And the neatnik
Neatly cleans
The lover I seek
Is not here so
I cook more
I bake more
I even tidy more
But making love
I ain’t doing
So guess what
I am more lucky
Than most
....

Ray of fun

A ray of fun came by
With new ideas of why
The world changed

A light of joy swung by
To just electrify
The eve changed

A part of me said hi
You are such a sweet guy
My soul changed

Vølva in time of Corona ( sorry Gabriel Marquez)

The old Vølva felt terrible witnessing
a pandemic - a part of human scourge
swelled from pangolins or bats
no matter how this disease spread
wildly from zero to unbelievable numbers
Within few moons the tragedy traveled
Withering - all anyone could do was:
Isolate inside and wear a mask
Like a band-aided bank robber right
In front of trusted friends, trivial foes,
family or familiar faces just for
The fact : the wild vulture of a virus
Was airborne - eerily earnestly
Generously grabbed anyone
With any weaker immunity- ideal
Growth gaining grounds
Hard to grasp even harder to go
Ahead and just keep two horse heads
Afar - the Ascot opening race
Came to mind - a million
Possible combi of careful
Thought out ideas of whys
Wherefore and wherewithals
It seemed to anyone with
Just a tad of justified motion
That the human race had
Met one of a kind beginning
To rake out through the ranks
Mostly the underprivileged
People whose immune systems
Were composed differently
Or compromised diversely
Whose staccato  status
In some ways did not match
As meticulously as younger
Folks ; their offspring
Seemingly healthy had
The good luck in being
Strong in vigor and will
Something that Vølva Vigga
Aspired to now - alas
Her mind or lack there of
Was hindering her heartily
Due to a mindset that she
Was forever in shape
Which she was not
Knowing this even did not
Inspire her wilted soul
Being caught in a place
Which was almost against
Her will - being trapped
A bird who could not fly
Freely so her fearless flight
Was hemmed by broken
Bones and bolts on her window
Stopped the whirlwind right
At the pane and feeling
Far from controlling her
Spirits she wrote to Sophia
Her highborn sister akin
Asking her help in this situation.
But her kindred wise sib
waddled in sadness and told
The wildly troubled vølva
That she like anyone else
Must wait it out - outlandishly
- yes - but sacredly sanctified
By using her mind wisely
Stay put and conquer herself
Her earthly desires - her dread -
Her sister’s and her own sorrows
Should become her whole shield
So that despite her search outside
For life and livable moments
She must contain  herself completely
Her life was literally her death
If she did venture too much
Away from the given path - pathetic
She - the wise Sophia wrote
If Vigga the Vølva did not
Follow an advice  - an awesome choice
Life or early death prematurely
would come as easily eery
Without a parole or a raincheck!!
The wandering sibyl silently
Read her sibling’s script - recaptured
Reality with raw dreams of freedom
But reality hit her right there -
Should she the vølva have a chance
Of living  once more freely
In her little house near the brook
She had no choice but to remain
Where she was - and without
Tearing her soul into pieces
Her stout self preservation
Knew that to fight is to let go
The vigorous virus would pass
And just move out of its way
Carefully not to get caught
And so the vacillating Vølva
Sat down to write a thanks
Sincerely to her sister for
Her timely awesome advice -
She Vigga would stay around
Her place promising her sib
That she would wait for
A time when it would be safer
Sadly mayhap not this year
But in  about 17 moons
When the world had found
A swerving solution - encircling
The whole planet - a sure passage -
Just then she would embark
on a virgin voyage it seemed like
to her little hut near the brook
And she would again breathe
Freely whether it was winter
Spring summer or autumn
And the harvest moon would
Shine brightly as ever and
Mother Earth had also had
A beautiful breathing pause -
the voracious vølva Vigga would
dance a night's daunting jig
jauntily swerving her old frame
and become one with the earth.

My nightmare haiku

An urge or a must
Poetic outpouring hacks
Crown of red petals

Le jour des mères

Le jour de reconnaissance
D’être une femelle manquée
au mois de mai matinale
 Les possibilités que j’avais
L’intelligence et Le diligence
Les circonstances pas compris
Je me declare un échec
Sans amertume avec un geste
D’ haussement des épaules
J’ai raté ma vie intellectuelle
Et suis devenue une mère
Même si un rôle m’était imposée
Par la société - pas ma mère -
Ou c’était à cause de la nature
( merveilleuse excuse trouvée)
Qui fondamentalement m’a
Changée - trop intéressée par
L’humanité sans qu’il
s’occupe de moi (Existence)
Une femme handicapée
Qu’on les rencontre souvent
Il y a des femmes qui peuvent
Faire tout comme les hommes
Hélas - je reste dans un acte
Une pièce de théâtre ancien
Medée mais pas Pénélopée
Qui n’avait que defendre
Sa maison pour le retour
De grande voyage D’Odyssée
Et peut importe que son mari
Avez des maintes maîtresses
Elle l’attendait patiemment
Mais Medée fut un sauvage
Actif et se forçait de penser
Comme un homme et horreur!!
Ne me prenez pas, lectrices,
Amère et cynique et des autres
Mots dérogatoires que
Vous auraient sûrement dit
Sur mes pensées - je sais
Que j’aime mes gosses tendrement
Mais je pense souvent aux femmes
Qui auraient pu faire le meilleur
Que la médiocratie qui est la mienne.
Peut-être si j’aurais eu un courage
Plus que j’avais j’aurais été
Quelqu’une de sciences (au lieu)
De l’utérus -le créature  du bien -
De la différence d’un monde
Manqué et masculin sauf
Cet univers soit exclusif
En enchaînant les femelles
De leur devoir de faire des enfants.
J’enregistre vos mots méprisants
Et pour vous vous avez raison
Mais pour moi je me demande
Si j’aurais été plus heureuse
D’être une prof scientifique
ou un auteur des belles lettres
Au lieu d’accepter mon destin
De biblio-quasi-literati  mère
Avant ma mort sans faire
Une révolution intérieure
Comme avait fait l’artiste
Grandma Moses ou au moins
Donner aux autres femmes
L’envie de ne pas tomber
Dans la piège de l’esclavage
On peut avoir tout mais
Il faillait être plus fort
Que moi - et demander
Égalité Églantines égalité!