Madman Walking Aspirin

 

He’s a madman walking aspirin

as if he wasn’t the god of pain.

His drooling dementia spills

from his fingertips in the wee hours

of American insomnia onto a keyboard

that smells like ignorance. 

He touts he knows more than everyone

while important anyones hide war plans

to prevent targets from knowing the

when, where and how. 

The deflection celebrity is the star of abuse,

the bottom of the barrel, the toad who

will never be prince, but to some he’s

Orange Jesus who can turn their world white. 

©Susie Clevenger 2025

Shay's Word Garden Word List ~ The Catcher In The Rye

Two Elephants From One List

Elephants and Madness

I won’t apologize for

addressing the elephant

in the room.

In all the begats I chewed through in the book

of misogyny I never found a woman who was

assigned any title above a breeding cow or criminal

with curves that forced men to think with their genitals.

In the time of erasers, I threaten masculinity 

by my rashness to denounce the red apron

of submission and speak in full sentences

that indicate I have read books banned as feminist. 

My madness is mine…It grows and prospers…

I come from a river of poets who swim

in dreams, ink rafts from visions, and aren’t

afraid they’ll drown if rejection pulls them into rapids.

©Susie Clevenger 2025

--------------------------------------------------

Elephants With Forks

Elephants climb into a rowboat

as if they won’t drown from

the weight of their ambiguity.

Oh, they don’t fool me.

I’ve read a history book,

ate from a liar’s wooden spoon,

and dressed in wool spun from a pulpit.

It is hard to admit I fell for the begats,

trekked through Leviticus, and waded

through revivals carrying coins to lay

at the feet of manipulators.

I’m surprised I survived my chain

of not worthy with any faith, but

once I got off the roller coaster

of the bible brand of the south, I was

bold enough to journey to healing. 

There’s so many why’s in me and yet

there are a few answers why I drank

from a cup that took me where

I should never have gone.

Two little girls, an empty cupboard,

and a promise there would be food

if my husband and I followed

the fork without questioning 

where it led. 

©Susie Clevenger 2025

Disclaimer: These poems are written from my experience

as a Southern Baptist for over twenty years. Everyone has the right

to their religion and faith or the right to have neither. I am a survivor

of indoctrination and the depression that came with it. 

Shay's Word Garden Word List ~ Anne Sexton

 

From the Book of Louise

Have you ever landed in a flock

of eggshell people, the thin skinned

beretta tongued who love to see you bleed,

but don’t want you to leave a scratch

on their egos with truth?

They’re all into their star spangles, white

tabernacles, and Grinch charming.

Peacocks levitated on red, white, and blue

thinking they’re so holy you must walk

a gangplank if you call them out for their hypocrisy.

Well, I’m way past the egg minuet, and

have started clogging when cornered 

by a schoolmarm smirk spill of people

who like to make the water boil, but

don’t want to swim in the heat. 

I’m all into avoiding, keeping my peace with distance,

but when devils come to my doorstep, I’ll stomp a few shells. 

©Susie Clevenger 2025

Louise: Part 3

Shay's Word Garden Word List ~ Still Life With Two Dead Peacocks and a Girl

 

Don't Corner a Poet

It’s just me, out of my mind

sipping on helium, pondering

why a tuna fish sandwich

is on a vegan menu, and how

to install a security system on

a dollhouse without a door

or glass on the windows.

I’m not pretty when I’m backed

in a corner, but hey, there are

those who don’t listen when

I say my vocabulary has teeth. 

There aren’t any caution signs

on a poet … They can hop from

a flower poem to beneath an umbraculum

so dark with honesty a reader will

seek a priest even if they’re not catholic. 

So if you don’t have a tornado shelter,

don’t create the storm … I’m not pretty

when backed in a corner, and not timid

about writing with my teeth. 

  

©Susie Clevenger 2025

Shay's Word Garden Word List ~ Four - legged - girl

 

Not Much Gets Past Louise

 

He makes me as comfortable

as a crow sipping gin in a guillotine.

I’ve never been moonstruck enough

to get blushed cheeks when a snake

calls me Sugar.

That wolf in Wranglers is more

like a piece of gum in the bottom

of my purse than the Romeo

in a mirror he sees with that comb over.

Now I’m not one to judge a man

who’s been saying goodbye to his hair,

but when he comes with a Bible

and thinks every woman is born

to submit, I’ll put on a black robe

and sentence him to leave. 

This isn’t the first time he tried

to Genesis me at my cash register.

Hell, most every Tuesday night

he slaps down a six pack of Bud Light

on the counter along with an apple.

Wal-Mart expects me to be polite

so I keep that smile on my teeth,

take his money, but not his crap.

I politely inquire, “Brother Don,

does your congregation know

you like to take a bottle to visitation?

©Susie Clevenger 2025

Shay's Word Garden Word List ~ Calling a Wolf a Wolf

Results of a Ribectomy

 

Hey, it’s me

that ribectomy

because you 

were lonely.

Is it working 

out for you,

that not being

lonely part?

I thought, being

made of a rib,

you’d want me

to walk beside you,

but you want me

watching the back

of your head.

That worked for a bit,

but not so much now.

You just keep walking

us toward war.

I’m moving in front

so we can stop

walking the dead

end of your treadmill. 

Remember

 that time

you were lonely?

I’m not sure it was

made clear to you

the rib was given

 her own voice. 

©Susie Clevenger 2025

Black Coffee and a Tin Halo

Coffee black, cactus tongue sharp,

and a tin halo makes Louise

Mother Mary of the only

Wal-Mart that can brag

bear spray is their biggest seller.

It doesn’t take an Einstein to guess

Kodiak Alaska wasn’t named after

a cattle ranch in Texas or a chicken farm in Arkansas.

Up in the chill where remote

doesn’t describe an armchair controller,

Louise is the best glitter on ice for miles.

She brags the doll ambulance (make-up section)

is where a lady can paint her cheeks tulip pink

to tease a man into believing she’ll stay longer

than a bikini strut on Homer Spit Beach in January.

No one really knows how Louise ended up in Kodiak.

She doesn’t talk about her past or wink and flirt about the future.

It seems to the locals she’s a unicorn in the rough,

a salty angel with a southern drawl who dropped

her wings in the Wal-Mart parking to hold court 

in a kingdom where you can buy a gun and plastic ivy. 

©Susie Clevenger 2025

I really don't know how my poetry arrived in a Wal-Mart in Kodiak, Alaska, but my muse took me there.  So I did some research, (yes, poets do research), and I found my Louise. :)

Shay's Word Garden Word List ~ Sharon Olds

 

Brain Trust

I have two brains,

one housed in bone,

the other in nest of gut.

There are times they

cooperate, agree, 

but when they don’t

I’m left to decide

which one I trust.

My brain loves 

me to take a seat

in overthink, parade

scenarios, insist 

superiority, argues

logic should guide

every decision.

But my gut, my intuition,

my premonition, my compass

in what to do, avoid, give,

and deny has wisdom I don’t ignore.

My gut has been sending a lot

of messages these days.

The one in my skull is attempting

patience, but its bullishness

doesn’t care for overriding 

so, there are days I suffer its petulance. 

©Susie Clevenger 2025

NaPoWriMo  Day 17

 

Solving Didn't Pass I.D. Check

Ever tried to brainstorm

in a bar where coke courts Jack

and the luck of the draw will

find a monkey on someone’s back?

In the broken neon ambiance 

much of the thinking isn’t worth

a penny, and the only one taking notes

is a waitress keeping tabs.

Serve enough pitchers of beer and some 

guy will think he’s Einstein and a woman

may get lit enough to think she’s Poet Laurette 

of the bathroom wall. 

There’s a lot of problems at The Sticky Pony,

but Solving didn’t pass the I.D. check

with the bouncer at the front door. 

©Susie Clevenger 2025

NaPoWrMo Day 16

Shay's Word Garden Word List ~ There Must Be a Pony

 

Sisters of the Crazy Life

Through cigarette smoke

I can see every yesterday

blush her cheeks sassy. 

Bold pearls on her ears,

turquoise rings on her fingers

decorate her audacity 

to be herself in the AARP chase

to assign her a tombstone. 

Livin’ La Vida Loca

blasts from a speaker

in the background

in bright colored notes.

Neither of us speaks,

but we communicate through a stare.

She dares me to be a rebel…

I reply with a wink, “I already am.”

As fast as it appeared the

magic in rhythm and haze dissipates. 

She turns to order tequila.

I walk out with a match I’ll never burn.

©Susie Clevenger 2025

NaPoWriMo Day 14

 

Little Shrines and Madness

Hello…

“We’re all mad here. You’re mad. 

You must be or you wouldn’t be here.”

Cheshire Cat- Alice in Wonderland. 

I have poetry books

in every room, formed,

deformed, hardback,

paper, from Edgar Allan Poe

to my scribblings. 

There’s not a day that goes

by I don’t hollow out a space

in my ribs for another poem.

When I think about it, my

poetry collections are little

shrines because there’s

always a candle close, some

incense, and a prayer for

a bit of talent to slip into my ink. 

I skip prayers when

It comes to poetry forms.

Most of the time when

I attempt to write one it feels

like I’m forcing myself

into a push up bra that’s

never going to work. 

Oh,

 and those 

shrine rooms

have no mirrors.

I do enough digging inside

 myself reading and scribbling

 I don’t need to peer into glass 

to see my madness. 

©Susie Clevenger 2025

NaPoWriMo ~ Day 7

Shay's Word Garden Word List ~ Immortal Poems

 

Chasing Nightmares to Feel a Dream

She has lipstick eyes

and plastic intentions. 

The blood of her days

living on erased has

her chasing nightmares

to feel a dream.

Before 2022 she had

the right to choose

her body’s direction.

Today it’s been sharpied

into the decision of men.

No one asked her.

No one gave her the choice

to decide if a God without Jesus

or no god at all had the 

right to force her to live by

a faith or plan that had

outsourced compassion. 

©Susie Clevenger 2025

#NaPoWriMo Day 5

 

In the Haunted Spaces

I live in the haunted spaces of my art

where eyes write themselves blind,

and ink goes deaf from trying to hear. 

The madness of creativity is

it doesn’t fear ghosts or the voices

that speak through paintbrushes. 

I roam tombs and fly on butterfly wings

while my feet walk crumble floors in need of a broom.

The water of imagination may be where I drown

or a sea I sail to totally unexpected.  

©Susie Clevenger 2025

NaPoWriMo Day 3

 

Whiskey Cigarette Lines

There’s a smile that wants

to dance across my lips,

but I taste its sweet,

and I haven’t an urge for sugar.

I do find humor in the

civil war on my face,

and the audience

who’s not sure if I’m angry

or simply (if simple ever fits) insane.

My husband swears I’ve been

reading Bukowski again,

those whiskey cigarette lines

keeping his bluebird from

nesting in my chest. 

It’s a day… Just a day.

I‘ll get through it, around it

or over it.

But that smile, hmmm,

I’ll keep it to a smirk. 

©Susie Clevenger 2025

NaPoWriMo Day 2

 

If There's a Spotlight in Hell (Day 1 NaPoWriMo)

 

How do I glitter empty

when leather words

are all I hear?

You know the kind,

cracked, broken, 

overused, beyond repair. 

I waver between rage

and whatever while staring

into my coffee cup searching

for a crystal ball in the caffeine.

If there’s a spotlight in hell,

I know a few who would 

burn the lightbulb into their image. 

There’s not enough school in a politician

to read a room or hear an opinion

that hasn’t fallen out of their own tongue. 

I’m having a moment among many.

Today I’m feeling like the news is

filled with a pack of rabid children

I’d like to chase with a needle

so they won’t put their teeth

in anyone else. 

©Susie Clevenger 2025

Shay's Word Garden Word List ~ Game Six

Birds No Longer Sing in Our Spring

I left no letters or scarf

to warm your memories.

The end of golden came

on a burnt Thursday

of bitter words and mistrust.

We turned to shell, empty

vessels too cold to hold warmth,

and too angry to rebirth kindness.

©Susie Clevenger 2025

Shay's Word Garden Word List ~ My Dear I Wanted to Tell You

No Sugar or Honey

With my tattered zombie hands

I force my redundant to chase

a cursor that doesn’t care I’ve

complained my way through

another white page. 

The fruit of most days isn’t

plucked from a tree of success,

but the callous repetition

of what I won’t release.

Honesty is a bitch.

She doesn’t baby my feelings.

There’s no sugar in my ear,

or honey on the bread of

my confessions. 

In the rawness of an untouched Monday

I look into a mirror I can’t manipulate,

or fool with a rose-colored tactic my bitterness

can be erased with a  gentle air brush,

and wonder if I have enough

lipstick to paint a smile. 

©Susie Clevenger 2025

Sometimes you just 

have to work on yourself.

Welcome to my therapy. 

Shay's Word Garden Word List ~ Beautiful Bureaucrat

Melting Doesn't Need a Match

I wish I could imagine

sky filled the space

between his skull,

but that would insult

the window to the moon.

There is coldness in the weeds

that cover his tongue, tiny barbs

he hopes will leave scars.

He hates I never buy a ticket

to his Meme and Repeat, and

that I have a library card where

shelves of history books prove

he’s only a bit actor in a theater of rerun.

It is funny to see him stand naked

while screaming he’s wearing Armani.

Mute is more threat than answer.

The man just doesn’t understand 

I know where and how to use my words.

There’s no use in striking a match

when a snowflake is already melting. 

©Susie Clevenger 2025

Word Garden List ~ Shy Creatures

The Weight of an Apple

There’s lovely messiness with romance.

At least that is what the flower poets

plant on pages inamoratas harvest.

Elzeth is more practical.

She knows no matter how beautiful

the fruit looks on the apple tree

there is one that fools you with its rot.

Even stars with their diamond glitter

will lead you astray if your eyes aren’t

schooled in lessons from a telescope.

She is not without a wink and flirt,

but she has gathered too many stones

in her heart to not be cautious of

the illusion handsome means tender.

Yet ice will only stay frozen if heat

doesn’t bring its thaw, and Elzeth

is not immune to the right flame.

In the garden of sighs she is vigilant.

A kiss on her lips could be a path

through Eve’s Garden where there isn’t

a serpent to lead her to truth. 

©Susie Clevenger 2025

Shay's Word Garden Word List ~ Across the River and into the Trees

Angel of Absurdity

Let turtles roam my tombstone,

invite wild, wicked lightning

to be the moon above my grave.

Plant nettles at my feet

where their sting can strike fools,

and their medicine can draw healers.

I will be a mongrel at rest,

a nest of ethnicities that

confuses Ancetry.com with

a plethora of connected non connections. 

Engrave my granite headstone or failing concrete

with, “She was once alive and sarcastic,

now she is Pheme the revealer of all your secrets.”

©Susie Clevenger 2025

In Greek mythology, Pheme is the goddess of fame, rumor, and gossip. 

Shay's Word Garden Word List ~ Cat's Cradle

 

Check Bounce of Greed

They’re wanting you pale,

a darker shade you go to jail.

 

This is the same old,

lighter skin owns gold.

 

This is America growing billionaires,

picking and planning the never share.

 

The Eve of Destruction

is always under construction.

 

If you’re a woman,

you’re less than human.

 

Sadly a pregnant womb

is both life and tomb.

 

So many guns, no humanity.

Bullet brains feed insanity.

 

The Eve of Destruction

is always under construction.

 

Money says it can never slip up

because it always banks on the give up.

 

Streets are bleeding voices,

angry as hell they’re losing choices.

 

Different faces, different races

growing community, sharing spaces.

 

The Eve of Destruction

is always under construction…

 

But this time money slipped up

because it bet it all on give up.

 

©Susie Clevenger 2025

What's Going On? ~ Eve of Destruction

  

 

 

How Far Is Far When I Can’t Get Past Here

the stars are all ash

bit coins drank all the water

and free costs too much   

    

There’s little in the frig,

only a bottle of rage 

because the last peach

on the tree only lasted a day.

misogyny’s knack

for division and attack

replays same music

As a woman I don’t trust

the bats in his belfry 

don’t know my name,

because I’ve never played nice

or danced under a man’s thumb. 

so I question here

with my eyes focused there

plotting my escape

©Susie Clevenger 2025

 Shay's Word Garden Word List ~ Kindred

Resilience of a Sparrow

There are some dreams

that hang in the mind

like rotted meat, foul

yellowed voices void 

of mercy. 

I woke up this morning

chewing on last night’s

Shakespearean

play of a dystopian king,

and pondered if there

was a toothbrush for the mind.

Growling my mood through

the early morning shadows

I found myself at my front door

staring out at the rarity of southern snow.

The white anomaly chastised my spirit

with wonder, and made me see

how the smallest sparrows were

not hindered by the powdered chill

assaulting their wings. 

Providence (Mother God or Sister Resilience)

whispered, “You know the fate of kings. 

You’ve walked quicksand before, and rose

when it tried to own your feet. 

There have always been tyrants.

For every brick placed on your chest

you’ve found the strength to break

through their mortar.” 

 

©Susie Clevenger 2025

Shay's Word Garden Word List ~ Giovanni's Room

It's Lonely in the Birdhouse

 I bought this glass house

thinking exposure would bring connection. 

In this curtainless cube

the traffic outside my window

is much like a flock of birds

feeding on the view, but never

knocking on the door to deliver a voice.

Surely a doll in a box will at least

bring the curious, perhaps a single person

who would want to know if there is

human flesh on the arm that waves,

but GPS doesn’t allow veering

from programmed directions. 

Is time still real? Is it selfish

to feel broken enough to cry, 

or wish for a pen so I could

imagine myself through poetry?

I’ve lived long enough to reach

the future…It’s so much colder since

caring about one another became obsolete. 

©Susie Clevenger 2025

“The question is not whether intelligent

 machines can have any emotions,

 but whether machines can be intelligent without any emotions.”

—Marvin Minsky, 1986

Shay's Word Garden Word List ~ Klara and the Sun