Tuesday, March 19, 2013

JUST THE WAY WE ARE


As the commercial goes,

Lauren ditched Jack, because he was way too boring,

Jack then got himself a Citicard Private Pass,

And you've got it, he started scoring...

More events, more experiences, more concerts,

Met museum Marilyn, cooked with Giada, got Alicia to give him that "look,"

Watching this spot made me wonder when it happened,

That just being yourself would get you the hook!

In the 70's, Billy Joel sang,

Of love, "Just the Way You Are,"

Soon after affection became conditional; "what can you do for me,"

If nothing lately, pack up and hitch yourself to someone else's star.

For a generation reared on video games and in cyberspace,

I wonder if they even see analog humans as real,

Or other than appendages to electronic gadgets and devices,

They can't put down to talk or linger over a meal.

In this click, quick world, where what you sample,

And who you bump into, makes for superficial, sound bite conversation,

With no internal compass or intrinsic self worth as a guide,

As the population ages, where will we go as a nation?

When we refuse to be still, alone, or reflective,

Considering our vessel as nothing but empty,

How can we complain when we continue to get leaders "just the way we are,"

Disingenuous...less than civil...flip floppy...long on puffery.



MARCH MADNESS

Pope Benedict XVI gave up his job for Lent,

Obama's held his First, not Last, Supper with the GOP,

March Madness! Who cares about basketball?

With all the intrigue surrounding the Vatican and DC!

Church and State: financial follies and governing gaffs galore,

At least, for now, there's no sex scandal on the Potomac!

50 shades of Catholics, Elephants - and Donkeys - going in all directions,

Just look at the trash talking divisiveness at CPAC!

The Poll: Rand Paul barely edged out Marco Rubio,

Conservatives favored Cuccinelli and Cruz, and snubbed McDonnell and Christie,

Bracketology failed to predict the Conclave's "upset" choice,

A Jesuit; First South American, Se llama a si mismo Francis (of Assisi?).

Relevance? Unity? What's a party or a religion to do?

Warm the familiar bench? Stay stuck on status quo?

Dribble slowly toward change? Quickly go out of bounds?

How 'bout excise the extraneous - and flaunt founding fundamentals from long ago!

It took only two days and five votes for the white smoke to bellow,

The new Pontiff's already going off script and "communion-cating,"

Contrast with polarized Washington, where no one wants to waive even a partial white flag,

Guarding themselves with staged, sanitized, superficiality, US leaders keep moving the basket - and missing.

Karen Ann DeLuca

Monday, March 4, 2013

With Boots

on, I stand four inches taller.

Five-foot-seven in black

leather, knee high. I am spike-heeled,

armed for battle

against the mundane, mediocre, middle-aged

moms in flats and leggings. Tunic

tops shield view of asses

with the appearance of potatoes

stuffed in panties, dimples for which

cottage cheese (even large curd)

is still an insufficient metaphor. Miles

of road and treadmill in my wake,

I praise every defined muscle

two births left intact.

To Cum or Not To Cum

is not an option. On the table

is not a choice, but something

better left to chance and momentum. Hard

luck is a prophecy, self-fulfilled.

Intrusion, a welcome stranger,

master of impromptu movement.

Sudden, temporary fetish follows lack

of logic. Riding meaningless waves

of echolalic patterns.

My departure confirms your arrival.

Independence Day


It’s my body, but go ahead,

get off in it. You’re entitled to

nothing less. After all it’s your day

without work. And you’re horny. Never

mind that my stomach is killing me and the kids

are awake and I have a million

things to do. You wouldn’t

know what goes on between 6 and 8 a.m.

here. There is not a moment that I own.

I want to be a means to your end, really I do.

You say you will take a second

to my writing and my workout,

neither of which is an option

right now. But please,

throw a tantrum. Stomp your feet.

Whine some more. I am used to dealing

with children. They can’t delay gratification

either. My coffee is burnt, my stomach

still hurts, and I have to make a dessert

for a party I don’t want to attend.

Obligation is mymiddlefuckingname.

I’ll be okay.


Tweeting Christ

Lost my faith don’t believe in miracles

#religionprobz

#religion

please Retweet if you give a fuck

April Salzano

April Salzano teaches college writing in Pennsylvania and is working on her first (several) poetry collections and an autobiographical work on raising a child with Autism. Her work has appeared in Poetry Salzburg, Pyrokinection, Convergence, Ascent Aspiration, The Rainbow Rose and other online and print journals and is forthcoming in Poetry Quarterly and Bluestem.