IJIPOETRY.COM - POETRY BY LARRY INGRAM

Lofty fingers

5/29/2013

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It's not surprising to
yield, but angering the
extra car takes guts and
fight - nerves tangle as
children embarrass parents
with patience, staring
at nothing but steel,
plastic, rubber, it
gives way to concrete?

Now we part ways,
but remember this day,
this place, we tangled
over a cloud, a blue -
sky that says freedom -
but chains never loosen
from steering wheels
gripped with fear.

To know the way is
easier than to give
away.
Please allow this
door to open to another
lane, she, he said as
to the Samaritan,
lying by the road,
torn with anger.

He and she know
unbridled pain in
the stare down over
choosing a radio -
station, speaker,
Then I knew
all about them,
the car that did such
and such before I
trafficked in insanity.

© 2013 Larry Ingram
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While weeds are plenty

5/29/2013

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Clarifying your statement
to say that you traveled
far and wide to apply -
fertilizer - but to a select -
not chosen or represented
by ombudsmen of unwanted
greens.

They took, took the pleasure
of your company, they
multiplied and drank in
soil, moisture, minerals
you supplied, when daring
them to die a death
meant only.

Now to arms you say -
your hybrids send a receipt
taken as slap, and saber
drawn to remark of the
tall, to the warring many,
they relish in annoying
natural folk.

Flowering thus, they
fertilize, but no eggs for
fear of human catastrophe -
who yearn for guiltless
days, relaxing in soil,
ready for scrapes with
speed limits.

In this they succeed in
their travel, inches become
miles, skyward, onward -
encouraging entrepreneurial
growth in scandalous
flight of clapping gigantic
blackbird.

© 2013 Larry Ingram
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Weepy rain

5/29/2013

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She wanted nothing of
gutter talk,
it came late at night -
relatively, it poured,
down pipes
helping no soul to
bathe in sun,
moon knows no
one troubled with
complaining.

Yet, the company
dwells in currents,
downspouts dry
with dysfunction -
dissing men who
claim otherwise.
They know their
hammers, nails -
gunning for shingles.

Those shots were
not mean for you -
but the air, heavy,
thick with sweat -
if only it came that
way when, with
Noah booied about
by animal instincts
that care nothing
for comportment -
Robert ruling.

© 2013 Larry Ingram
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Business favors

5/27/2013

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He broke his nuts,
lying there, stunned,
not reveling in emotion -
for employees taking
profits, or just took him
for what he was worth,
the brand that makes
it hell for a while,
but that's not how it
went down today.

Anticipating an herb
or two - the jalapeno plant
for raking it in by the
hundreds, a new idea
for growing and sunning
this sage of wise advice -
mentoring the moment
of invention - for clever
talks, knowing an
experience could make
or break.

It's likely we'll see
another cultivating soul -
thyme for herbs to travel
to pay homage to Superman,
overnight success, or a
stay in Metropolis,
growing the super brand -
if you had known this salary,
this success, I would have
loaned you shelf space.

© 2013 Larry Ingram
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Trying flowers

5/27/2013

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They really like dirt,
but not so much conversation
with others - plants, insects,
except during the day -
minerals have a nice
presence when we all
get along, with earth worms,
moving, turning dirt
at will.

Get a backhoe for the
next  project, to grade roots,
see better color, petals -
variety that makes a splash
unknown to sales,
hoards of people who
can't spell dianthus,
while the latin is effective.

Bend for water,
a natural supplement for
what for allowances that look like
seeds growing into pots -
plastic but certainly not
the real petunia that makes
a profit for its owner -
a hybrid of what we title
red and white,
with plenty of veins for
next year.

© 2013 Larry Ingram
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Secrets of slick paper

5/24/2013

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All-time favorites that
will be embellished, if not
promoted by marketing, by
stalls of sales forces me
to purchase, the smell
really intoxicates for
watches, Swiss made.

You'll want to make them
forever, or longer if the
test kitchen is true, if
cursing holds promise
of shameless behavior -
again, knowing your kitchen.

But females, scarring souls
are polished by lenses,
desktop marvels who caress
bodies are see racks and racks
of coveted contracts for
attorneys, or just the picture.

They stand there -
surely printing altogether -
choosing a fragrance like
schemes, heroin for heroines
last to stand by and make
peace with the paper.

© 2013 Larry Ingram
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Eating a piece or peace

5/24/2013

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It costs not too much -
or it has no activity but
the lame excuse for shame -
traveling in a wake telephoned
for support, while eating,
eating.

It's nice to enjoy - or by
declaration - enjoy sir, madam -
please, if you can or are able -
to deny any reasonable doubt
at the price of a piece.

It's really peace we are after,
but speak for the majority of
sane, gratuitously sauteed,
butter, but successful at a
leg of lamb.

This peace flies while waiting
to be seated - on
a scale you weigh the importance
of lacking gravitas, measuring
success by which table it ready.

© 2013 Larry Ingram
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Staring at me

5/24/2013

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You can see it,
but the capucinno spilled,
tumbling in my direction,
as a lost lamb,
splintering wood,
we all can see -
but not he.

Glancing, a spy novel
bleats blood, as
we all know that
summer blends blanks,
for guns not aimed,
nor taken in stead.

Those magazines are
not really mine,
they just sprang into
action, my hand, yours
eyes peeled for flesh
that stares.

Nonchalance travels
so fast it dovetails,
loitering in feathers,
still the way that
they keep fresh,
toward that man
acting.

The pair, mother, daughter -
embarassed but acknowledging
gravity, the situation calls
for style, governance,
correction - freedom
to become lax.

Now it isn't really looking
at me. But my mind bends
in that gravel pit, furrows
of dirt upturned, for
manure that clarifies my
brain on trash.

© 2013 Larry Ingram
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Post staccato

5/13/2013

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As if to make it harder to
accomplish the dot, the sphere,
it makes it sharp, nearly
indecipherable in it's glowing
praise of balance,
rythym ads a t or y or
i when I talk on the phone -
quickly she blurts.

But red lines mean nothing
added but dots, artistic
skirmishes in the mind -
remedies for orange cones
we avoided, when we stayed
within boundaries that
allow new construction.

And it is, positively a dot -
to make it hear by this time -
never in a hurry of course,
though I tracked your sense
of history - where you were
when you were most productive -
buddy.

Now it's clear that art wins.
Dark as night it comes onto
my page, seeing white, seeing
nearly a frame, diagnosing
an altered state where it's
faster, nicer, tacky, bright.

Now, then, nearer, far -
then we'll take, another
gross, outlet, for making
tea, bags that are about done,
stores for fragrance, making
it seem a sense of light.

© 2013 Larry Ingram
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Doctor blur

5/13/2013

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I wait in anticipation
for the door, the people
to open.
White sterilizations in clear sinks,
white with despair, or hope - no.
But a blur appears, nearer
to slurs upon time,
patiently sliding in and
out of transcendence,
he plies his history,
deafening from hearing
nothing, or enough
to staccato a voice.

White counts are low,
but hearing? Or is
it to listen, one ear or both?
Hearing loss is bad or positive - but
for me, not you who have
recovered your sense of
Hyppocractic - cursing my health.
Recovering are you?
Remitting remission?
I'm dying you know - for
the few minutes I had
your attention.
As to your recovery:
I know you hope I do,
and then some.

On he goes - bouncing off
ears - a flight to Berlin,
where they don't speak German
and neither do you, so you say
learning French is not easy.
But where were we, you
the last split second while
I guessed at you - sent a
missile flying,  it hit with
percussion, while fellow medical
watches, learns bad society -
skills unbecoming the ear.

It's already too late for
remedies, though the drugs
took hold; I drugged you -
or so it seems your health -
mentally is failing to grasp -
patients or patience, whichever
flowers, buds in one lone
hermetically sealed Lebanese
room - clean, urbane, eating
richly a doctor's fat, where
clearly you have not traveled.
Lost are you? In sitting
with a brilliant social idiot.
Yes, it comes to me -
you are right.

Sometimes it takes chocolate,
eclairs to regain senses, bearings
of flights to Jakarta, for lost
iphones, barely missing the gate,
the agent, the sanity of travel
where few gain remedies, chemo
for thin air, for travel weary,
the Word Cup of angst, a son's
wedding, nearly missed for an
IV embedded in orderlies, soul's
unmatched by protocol, methotrexate
is really at fault hear - lacking
constant clarity of blood pressure
bearings - north by longitude,
latitude that clears a vein.

It's safer for pumping more chemo -
who knew such a nice word could
clarify the destiny of cancer, microbes
or smaller blowing up with steriods
while on a sleepless trip, into the
morning.
I couldn't sleep - no really.
I had none of it - but it's all good
really.
Your levels are lower.
Do you feel better?
Healthy?
Clean?
Vibrant?
Your weight looks good,
but you are walking backwards.
Trying walking forwards for
a mile or two and I'll see
you in a month or two,
or three or six.


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    Welcome to the poetry web site of Larry Ingram. Larry is a poet, writer and observer of our culture.
    Check out his columns at ijiblog.net.

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