IJIPOETRY.COM - POETRY BY LARRY INGRAM

Caffeine dreams

6/12/2013

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I dreamed of brown, of
straining fields of grain -
of nights vaulting over
castle walls - they
stay up for the morning
assault of senses.

Awake they lie about
the grass, though
cows maroud in
laughter, stoic they
meander in cud,
bringing stilted
conversation.

It's to converse,
to be sure of bright
colors that careen,
a comet making a
way across pots,
bubbling in anger.

It happens to be
a rising tide that
causes her to embrace
the sand, grounds
for desertion,
taken to extreme -
expressed.

Espresso is to mock
rudiments of conversation
too loud to reckon
it written in prose,
this store will likely
encourage them
to target poetry.

It's likely that snobs
take to it like knats
they mimic Breanna
who walks around
in gales of laughter -
but the cause is
the brew, the drug.

© 2013 Larry Ingram
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TV, beer and pizza

6/3/2013

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It's the rhyme really - the three
settle on a leisurely life,
choosing for us against our will.
Yet, reason and happenstance
are ready for the bourgeous,
who take their selection from
storefronts haunted by
envelopes of bullets.

You realize that yesteryear,
would not have been
possible on this meager diet,
the rightness of juxtaposition,
the reverie of flavor and taste.
It makes all things better,
even in the wrong hands.

Dangerous and efficient,
in the wrong hands,
sure it's the grill that
settles with a new oven,
wily as it pass masterful
bread, sauce, sausage
as it fakes pepperoni.

Caesar was hear when
busy bees dosed out life -
as bread -
for investigating pressure -
closing in on delight.
An assembly line of
mixture - passing through
the back lot -
a story that must be told.

© 2013 Larry Ingram
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Slavish tonic for scuttlebutts

6/3/2013

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It's not so quiet in simmering disagreements.
But we don't hear the birds chirp and sing,
we don't hear the strong voice of the barging
truck along the same requirement, the same
trail for tires.
They only need a miserly abandonment of wear;
really only a trifle of life - life on any street.

But to be dissed, and dissed well.
That is certainly a trial, or triumph of the spirit or
the will of cowardice. And it's not just there -
it's everywhere that we, that you see this.

No soft landing here, disagreeing is an Alaska
mist - dangerous this, unseen logs rolling in a
shivering stream, waiting for human tumblers
underground, for permanent company from fools.
Or those who are lost,
sleepless with the latest act of
cruelty or insolence.
It's the best methodology
for arguments, where before we just simmered below
the surface before exploding.

It was not cool - such destruction of hearts, souls.
And they still burn, they simmer, as I said to you.
You never minded it though, since it was below
the level of scuttlebutt, which means it was not worth
noticing.

© 2013 Larry Ingram
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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.

    Contact him at
    larriji at zoho.com



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