Thursday, August 29, 2024

Don't Break an Aardvark's Glass


The tedium of walking on tippy toes
so the offensive won’t be offended
is not a gift I possess. 

Oh, I can appear cuddly with the obtuse,
keep my eyes silent, my face a gentle petulant,
but too often they seem to forget boorish 
will break the glass of jolly I have so patiently
kept half full. 

Ignorance should never ring the doorbell
of my dark humor, or test the shellac
on my carefully manicured mood. 

I love antiques, but have no desire
to live the crinoline politics of men
who are so fragile they succumb 
to vapors at the thought of progress.

All the cosplaying Captain Fred Waterford’s 
whine when I remind them Fred’s story
didn’t end well. 

©Susie Clevenger 2024

"We only wanted to make the world better.
 Better never means better for everyone.
 It always means worse for some."
— Fred Waterford

Captain Fred Waterford is a character
in the book, Handmaid's Tale
 by Margaret Atwood. 



 

Wednesday, August 21, 2024

Blame It On Stephen King



I spill ink crow tarot tracks

across a page trying to

write lemons into lemonade,

but there’s nothing pretty

in a journal of bruises.


Among sticks and stones,

broken bones, and vinegared potions

of all’s sunny in hell my Gothic Care Bear

muses keep quoting Stephen King,

“The Devil’s voice is sweet to hear.”


My verses are cruel, yet somehow delightful.

I can be the beast in beautiful, knife in a heart

when my humor is the syrup of sharp teeth.

I don’t play well with faux anything. 


I get more thrills in celebrating Halloween

than a sugar-coated Valentine’s Day 

filled with undying confessions of love

shopped from a grocery store aisle. 


Any way you shuffle me I will always rise with black feathers.

Isn’t it good to be honest? 


©Susie Clevenger 2024

Shay's Word Garden Word List ~ Full Dark, No Stars



Friday, August 16, 2024

Dixie Cups Held the Last Kool-Aid


Dixie cups lay reduced to red slime
mixed with the DNA of lips
who had drunk Kool-Aid while the world burned. 

Silence speaks in steam and stench.
Bony charred hands still clutch their book of rules,
their quibble phones, and black pearls 
identifying them as members of Fanatic Denial. 

Barely able to walk, shaken by the reality
I am still breathing, my eyes search for life
in the gasps of smoke pulsating around me.

Through the gray I watch human forms
appear in a ghostly resurrection of life
I first assumed were hallucinations.

As they walk forward, I see one of them,
a young woman carrying a journal. 
So many things storm my mind,
one being had I survived hell only to
be met with the foul text of failed ordinances. 

Prepared to speak every no in me, I stop
as the group keeps to its goal of encroaching
on the toasted bit of earth I believe
will be my final battleground.
Without an introduction the young woman
opens the journal and begins to read.

“According to the Magpie Record, The Lucid Tablets
now becomes the order of law. Article 1 of 
The Value of Truth requires every survivor
to go through gaslight deprogramming.” 

Who, how, where rests on the tip of my tongue
as I pinch my right arm to verify I’m not dreaming.

Seeing my distress the young woman 
places her hand on my wrist and says,
“I’m sorry to be so abrupt. We are standing on an ending
while a new beginning undulates beneath our feet.

Not knowing whether to cry or hug her, I break the ice
from my voice to say, “Miss, I don’t know who you are,
but I was on the Magpie Council when the Record,
and the Lucid Tablets were written. 
In the time of the Great Lie the Secret Scribes
oversaw housing the Council’s work
for the Reformation of Freedom in a location
that was known only by them. 

Because of security I never saw the journal
you are holding in your hands, but I know every word
that is written in it. 

Let me introduce myself to you, “I am Magpie Agent 5. 

©Susie Clevenger 2024