Map
#169-1 Theme: Dude, Where's My Karma
1.
"La Puerto Del Diablo" by RD Armstrong.
Estoy
triste hoy
La
luna sonrie como un gato
y
me estoy ogando
como
si estuviera amarado con a stone
as
if el Diablo
abriera
la puerta del infierno
y
me estuviera chupando
dentro
del vortex.
Que
lastima!
Tengo
un palo pero
no
marshmellows!
translation:
The
Devil's Door
I
am sad today
The
moon is smiling like a cat
and
I am sinking
as
if I am tied with a stone
as
if the Devil
has
opened the door to hell
and
I am being sucked
into
the vortex.
Bummer!
I
have a stick but
no
marshmallows!
©
RD Armstrong
From
"The San Pedro Poems." $6 Available from Lummox Press, POX
5301, San Pedro, CA. 90733-5301
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
2.
"Magdelene's Rooms" by Georgia Popoff
Elixir
of moonlight bathes the room blue
The
first man I laid beneath
was
Orion
strapping
in a winter sky
A
love that has never left me
Other
women's men come to me
to
rest against my ample skirts
to
glean healing
Other
women's men claim to visit
because
they
need
my magic
The
momentary mystic dwelling in my kiss
The
pillows abundant
and
blankets layered
muffle
the closing of the door
Other
women's men
leave
a black sky overhead
An
ardent hunter's moon
burnishing
gold into my many bracelets
©
1997 Georgia Popoff
from
Coaxing Nectar from Longing, (Hale Mary Press, Syracuse, NY)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
3.
"Recycle Your Emptiness" by Steve Ramirez
An
empty fortune cookie
is
a scary proposition.
Especially
if you
'think
too much,'
because
you'll find that you've
supplicated
yourself before the alien
Gods
of Fortune,
whispering
the sacred mantra
'¿Que
Paso?'
but
they've looked you over,
smiled
infinitely mysteriously
and
replied
"Tabula
rasa, baby.
Tabula
rasa."
The
pessimist
grasps
the concept of planets misaligned,
a
bad moon rising and a dartboard
abandoned
in the corner of a dusty office
to
wait for the next budget meeting;
they've
written the book on
the
Law of Conservation of Happiness,
because
happiness isn't created or destroyed,
it
only changes form
passing
among the land-owning elite
with
occasional detours downtown.
The
optimist,
however,
realizes
their fortune
simply
reads,
"…in
bed."
©
2000 Steve Ramirez
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
4.
"Dear Joan" by Jimmy Smith
Dear
Joan
In
order to get to you
I
first needed directions
then
the willingness
to
practice the unscrupulous stuff
required
by all who wish to enter
and
cross the River Styx
Although
it seemed harmless at the time
and
your visage was inextricably
entwined
with my memories
I
found that you had been so loathsome
while
you were alive that my immortal soul
couldn't
catch up to you in the afterlife
without
some serious funky behavior on my part
that
I'm just not willing to do
at
this time
see
you in the next incarnation
your
pal
Jim
©
2001 Jimmy Smith
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
5.
"god.gov" by Rev. Wyrdsli
Can
I call up God and get my karma report?
I
keep looking for his (hers? Theirs?) Web page -
god.gov,
heaven.com, afterlife.net
Does
God have a 800 number?
I
want my karma report.
Am
I black and beautiful or blood stained red karmically bankrupt?
Have
I done enough good in this life to take a second mortgage on my soul,
or am I still paying
off
Satan for stealing gum, smoking pot, dropping acid, listening to
devil music and wearing
black
t-shirts to school when my mother said she didn't want me looking
like motorcycle tough?
Am
I forever damned for the abortions I allowed and abetted?
And
what about all the pets that have died in my care?
I've
left more women that cared about me than been dumped - I'm not
bragging, I'm worried
about
my karma account.
Is
the five years I spent with that satanic cult minimized by the
nightmare they put me through, or
the
damage they did to my life?
Do
my studies in magick and mysticism make me a para - angel?
Do
I get points taken off for not having sex with women that were
clearly willing?
Do
I get points for letting people walk over me and manipulate me?
Sermon on the mount, is all
that
for real? It doesn't stand up to skeptical scientific testing. For
all the Bibles and churches,
they
don't have Jesus on video tape. It could all be a shell game.
Do
I get any points for the mace, the guns and disrespect dished to me
from the blacks? I sure
wish
I could ask my abolitionist ancestors.
How
about my ex-mother-in-law threatening to kill me when my
ex-brother-in-law got the
mistaken
notion, in a drunken rage, I was beating my wife?
Where
can I write to get my karma report? I want to check it for errors.
©
Rev. Wyrdsli
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
6.
"Palmistry" by Deena Hardin
The
light was dim but I could see her eyes,
will
never forget them: pale green
and
traced with black-
far,
far out to the side, like a cat-
head
wrapped in multi-colored scarves,
layer
upon layer, a Gypsy turban,
her
thin smile deep burgundy.
She
took my hand, palm up,
leaned
over to peer at its lines-
I
could feel her cool breath-
proclaimed
long life,
short
first marriage,
disastrous
second marriage,
love
of my life on the third
but
he would die too soon,
leave
me bereft, to die
bitter
and alone at eighty-something.
This
must be a joke, I thought,
let
the others waiting in line
have
their turn; but I got back in line,
changed
my look a little,
slapped
that hand down, once again.
She
peered closely, straightened up in her chair,
told
me that I knew my fate.
Especially
at thirteen, this was an unlucky pill
to
swallow at a simple Halloween carnival,
left
me wishing I'd bobbed for apples instead.
©
Deena Hardin
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
7.
"Lost Sheep" by Michael Levy
When
- oh -- when did humans lose their innocence,
My
- my - how sophisticated they look,
The
mirror reflects the designer image,
When
did they misplace the sight of themselves,
Rule
makers,
Rule
breakers,
Turn
them hither and thither,
Only
to find the same face,
Lost
souls - lost time,
No
shepherd to guide the lost sheep.
©
2001 Michael Levy
http://www.pointoflife.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
8.
"Omphalos"* by Martha Kirby Capo
*omphalos:
worldwide symbol of the center of the world
**
bindu: Sanskrit "drop, symbol of the absolute"
Ever
have we
Been
ever
Shall
we be
Never
are we
Seen
as what
We
are the
Watchers
of all
Worlds
guardians
Of
ancient
Ones
dreaming
All
existence
Into
being softly
We
breathe and
The
bindu** moon
Wonders
at our
Fealty.
©
Martha Kirby Capo
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
9.
"The Meade Avenue Disaster Contingency" by Robert
O'Sullivan Schleith
me
& jennifer
we
got ourselves a plan
for
the big one
everyone
talks about-
it
is part of our prime directive
it
is not an apocalypse response
it
is not an escape route strategy
it
is not an over-reaction
to
when the meade avenue bridge
over
the 805 collapses.
we
each live on different ends of meade;
when
the bridge finally gives way,
we
will be staring at one another
from
opposite sides of a huge crevasse.
I
will be on the west side, facing
otay,
san miguel and the other mountains
I
will be relaying damage reports
from
the bay-side of the city.
she
& gabriel
have
been rehearsing for the inevitable,
shouting
their guerilla poetry
across
the urban chasm of university
ave
in hillcrest
we
have been out shopping
for
our earthquake- preparedness
kits,
they will be vintage
1960's
metal lunchboxes, of course;
they
will be well-stocked with all the
essential
provisions,
each
kit containing:
1
"just-like-a-real-rock-star's" acoustic
microphone-
one's pink, one's blue
and
I got dibs on the pink one;
1
walkie-talkie aka the "other" batphone
(roger
on that latest dish report, batgrrl- over)
1
8X12 color glossy
(hey,
this town'll be crawling with media);
1
copy of the PSl official spiel,
should
the destruction be so great
that
we are compelled to do a last Last Sunday Slam;
1
large package of Jet-Puf marshmallows,
for
sustenance;
1
pair of shish-ka-bob skewers
for
the marshmallows, of course-
(can
also be used as personal defense
should
someone try and steal the marshmallows);
ok
we are all prepared, we are like boy scouts
(damn
that's a bad analogy)
we
are ready for my first damage report;
first
from the west
"hey
jennifer, you should see downtown,
everything
levelled except for that statue of don diego- over"
then
from the east
"hey
robt, that statue of don diego has always
been
up in del mar, at the fairgrounds- over"
then
from the west again
"hey
jennifer- looks like we've done slid aways north-
this
is cool, this so cuts down on my commute- over"
she
is still unclear on this concept
of
plate tectonics
til
I reframe it into a paradigm to which she can relate:
the
plate is connected to the faultline
the
faultline's connected to the shockwave
the
shockwave's connected to the canyon
the
canyon's connected to the backyard, etc. etc.
oh
she totally expected this from me,
since
most of our plans have involved
singing
fragments of hokey children's songs
to
one another.
"hey
batgrrl, it's a brave new world out there, let's roll- over"
©
Robt O'Sullivan Schleith
from
DriftWood Highway 2001 Poetry Anthology