The B(itch) of Beige ~ Sarcasm Intended

I don’t like herds

or sheep parkas

that smell like gaslighting.

The crazy of a pencil puppet

is the ride on the dotted line

too often leads to becoming a robot. 

I’m not so naïve as to not understand

I must occasionally allow myself

to appear to be a hostage of conformity.

You know, dress in faux beige so I can

pretend I never read a book or understand

history has a catalogue of too often repeated. 

Oh, if I were truly a Bitch Goddess

I’d slap minds with my opinions 

until my tantrums carved them

into my likeness, but I can be wrong.

(I’m so humble.)

So, I acknowledge my broom may

have a few loose straws that 

require attention. 

It is difficult to walk the tight rope

between unhinged and a bit stable.

I do wear sensible shoes though,

and apply my sarcasm only when needed.

©Susie Clevenger 2024

When I write, I'm never sure where I will

end up, but I chose the word beige and got curious

about its symbolism. My fingers rushed to Google

to discover there is much to know about beige.

Symbolism Of Beige

Symbolically, the color beige brings

 a sense of energy and strength – 

a trustworthy, dependable kind. 

 This is due to intellectual abilities,

 wisdom, ideas and knowledge.

Hmmm, Obama's suit. 

Word Garden Word List ~ Where'd You Go, Bernadette?

 

Squabble of Thumping Cackle

Spring is a cackle grackle

ceremony of black wings

fighting over a single seed.

It strikes me a bit like

a political debate 

where there’s no moderator

to control a feather duster

storm of opinions.

I swear if they could drink wine

they would be drunk on their own voices

before one sip of cabernet could be swallowed. 

Do humans cheat in their chicanery

by stealing their audacity from a bird

who has no fear or care electric wire

could change from a seat into a fryer?

Grackles have so much toxic air in their bombasticity 

it is a wonder anything around them can breathe. 

©Susie Clevenger 2024

Word Garden Word List ~ Richard Wilbur

 

Paper Doll Child

I grew up a paper doll child,

something to dress in hand me downs,

and ignore if my tears got too loud.

Nobody noticed they were planting rebellion,

tilling insomnia, or trying to put me in boxes

too small for my imagination to breathe.

There wasn’t anything vague about being ignored,

no excuses of being too busy, just a front door

that pushed me out to seek solace in wild things

that grew outside windows that winked with dust. 

It was tough trying to balance secrets and threats

when my ears rang with a voice whispering,

“It will always be your fault.”

©Susie Clevenger 2024

Word Garden Word List ~ Let the Right One In

I actually wrote two poem for Shay's Word Garden Word List.

The second one is from my Twila Series on my blog Susie's Sentences.

Aunt Tita

 

Why Can't I Just be Feral

There’s nothing worth claiming

in this sterile cottage of beds

where mirrors watch and secrets

are only as safe as the whispers that hide them.

It is not popular to be called insane

even though it is a plague that stalks

every mind, and torments the brain

with visions the tongue won’t describe. 

I came for help, a map that had little green trees

marking the path back to sanity, or that is what

I envisioned therapy would provide.

You don’t stroll through nightmares

or talk your way out of hell where

every thought is bolted to a rusty lock

that has long lost its key.

White coats with needle hands

stab me into faux relaxed long enough

to tighten the leather to keep me

from flying the coup of metal ribs.

One chases famous only to wish

it would leave you the hell alone.

I’ve honeymooned with every tabloid it seems,

although I wasn’t asked if I wished 

to be married to their distortions. 

Oh, why can’t I just be feral?

After all isn’t that what feeds

the top spot in the headlines.

I suppose someone will want to publish

my memoirs, collect all those inky journals,

to expose the only prayer I ever wrote

was a plea for the window ledge

to be wide enough to hold both feet.

©Susie Clevenger 2024

Word Garden Word List ~ Gracefully Insane

 

The Dark Mess of Hoping

 I’m breathing in blank spaces,

the chilly calm where words

hang in icicle spikes waiting

on faith to perform a ceremony of trust

you are what your kiss spoke on my lips.

Fragile stalks me as if I should accept

its curse, become a fainting, messy chapter

in a romance novel I would cringe at reading.

I am more attuned to dark magic than

a simpering, palpitating heart weak

wish for a golden wand to slap you

into what I want you to feel for me.

This sleeping bus of weirdest emotions

is the silly, severe heart crashing I’ve

never imagined I’d be trapped in.

Stop laughing at me as if I were a guppy

swimming in a fish tank waiting for attention

(even though I am), and tell me whether

the fruit of this moment will bring blessing

or rot on my memory until I grow nothing but bitter.  

©Susie Clevenger 2024

Word Garden Word List ~ Night Road

  

Blueberry Skin or Claw

I’ve been off my meds

so long I can’t tell 

if the bear is real

or I’ve been caught

in the fly trap of a meme.

Every doctor has a pill

with a suicide note,

umm I mean side effects,

so maybe I’m just

dancing in a hallucination.

This forest looks a lot 

like concrete with a Camero

in metal mating season

sniffing a pollen yellow stripe

for a female who thinks speed

is an aphrodisiac.

A scenario keeps spinning

in my head about choosing

between furry Godzilla

and stick shift Romeo.

It feels like I’d be safer with claws

than trapped with the one

who likes to film blueberry skin

with a camera. 

©Susie Clevenger 2024

Word Garden List ~ Help! A Bear Is Eating Me!

 

When Doves Join Foxes

 

On the skeleton box car of bones and screams

the damned rattle the bars while

the wealthy dance their extravagance

along the tracks of hell.

Bloated on gold and blind to suffering

their pittance of charity doesn’t go as far

as their red leather shoe soles chasing recognition.

It doesn’t matter where I travel through history

the same is the same – The poor suffer

while the moneyed own the key to the wallet. 

When doves join foxes and creatures chase light,

the grave bell no longer scares the bleeding. 

Climbing stairs that only go down I carry a sword

with names of the who’s who of no longer should be.

A slice through a chain, a song of revolution

emboldens the desolate to seek retribution.

In the fire without smoke I watch the meek become bold.

There’s nothing fiercer than nothing left to lose.

I’m no superhero, no goddess demanding praise,

just a woman who wants to remove the rails

from the track so history can’t carry its malevolence

into the future. 

©Susie Clevenger 2024

Shay's Word Garden ~ Life After Life