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'When All I've Got Is Atmosphere' by Roxy Dixon
'The Angry Tourist' by Roxy Dixon
'When All I've Got Is Atmosphere' - available from United States Amazon
TO MY MOTHER AT 21 (from 'When All I've Got Is Atmosphere')
You were my mother at 21.
You were 21, but so was I.
The moment of realization came
to me upon that day
you offered up your white or wheat unto my bloodshot eyes,
with the spidery redness on the iris
the pure white of an egg
with the awful red surprise
of an aborted chicken fetus,
a rubberneck inspiring grotesque.
I pointed wordlessly
at the redyellowblue bubbles
floating on the white of the safe,
recognizable packaging of the Wonderbread.
I watched you passing by the heal, reaching
for the waist of the loaf
through the cellophane window of the packaging.
You slid the slice out, surfing the bread
over the tops of what I guessed to be
lesser quality slices.
I leaned back,
relaxed my head into the stability of the wall,
while you hummed Radiohead and added Mayonnaise
in shivering masses to the bowl.
My preference, not yours.
You stirred to the beat of the verse
And the New England smell of tuna overwhelmed
your brightly lit kitchen
in that little townhouse you rented
but could just barely afford.
You forked a clump of flaking tuna
onto a sponge of white bread
and closed the sandwich up like a heart patient.
The gauze of white bread being treated
in a slow motion kind of careful.
You laid another white slice of bread on top
as though you'd laid a newborn down for a nap.
You cut my sandwich into triangles,
though I was 21 and quite capable
and you were 21 and not responsible.
I said thank you
aloud in an intense movie-theater whisper,
but as I chewed the soft sandwich,
I remember I added
a word--but only in my head
"Mother."
© Roxy Dixon
YOU, ME & A DEAD BABY BETWEEN US (from 'The Angry Tourist')
It's just you me and a dead baby between us.
It rides in a car seat we no longer need--
pink plastic doll hands
gripping the nylon parachute straps
with those open cuts for eyes
just a slit of violent pink.
I take my eyes off the road
to make sure our little salamander
was truly scrambled by the doctor's steel
clicking, knitting needles.
Yes, it is done, it is done.
(Oh my little crumb, my little nesting doll
I'm afraid
I was not ready for your knock.)
Still it came
and soon there was no hiding
that second heartbeat
that thudded through the drum head
of my taut-skinned belly.
I wouldn't have it.
No, I could not have
that tiny see-through head
bowed in a swish of fluid,
curled up like a snail shell
in a way that made me think
maybe it was hiding from me,
like it knew--
But still
it got the dashing.
And for once I see what was really done and undone.
For now, it's just you me
and nothing but a dead baby between us.
(02.04.07
for little one)
© Roxy Dixon
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killer_llamas here.We don't find this remotely amusing. The Hag reached Level 23 on Farm Town on Facebook and now she is buying lots of us and trying to fence us in.
She will regret it.
We are serious.
I know you lovely people have immaculate taste and will be able to help me.
I have to remember that I like to add a lot of extra things to my page so I probably don't want a really busy page to begin with. Also, these are just the basic examples - I would be tweaking all the colours.
( pics )
Having said I don't want a busy page to begin with, I cannot resist this. I know it's too much. I am in love with it: http://www.myspace.com/morneypoetry
Poll #1407816 URGENT MATTER
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All
Which layout do you think I should choose?
View Answers
Black & White MM
1 (20.0%)
Pink & White MM WITH BAG 0 (0.0%)
Pink leopardskin pattern 1 (20.0%)
Wizard of Oz 0 (0.0%)
Pink on an acid trip 0 (0.0%)
Pink roses 0 (0.0%)
Fairy 2 (40.0%)
Hearts & Flowers 0 (0.0%)
THE PINK ONE 1 (20.0%)
But hey!! My book 'I Am The Blast From Your Past & Other Poems' has been selected to go on sale on Amazon!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Fucking Amazon!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WOOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Without Whiskey
A year of days without you.
A year of nights without you.
No more cosy rainy afternoons.
No more cuddling reading and purring.
No more glares from a cold radiator.
No little fleece lying waiting only for you.
No need to leave the bedroom door open now.
No need for cat milk.
No lilac food plate in the kitchen.
No silver water bowl for madam.
No more litter to clean up,
(I never thought I'd miss that, but I do)
Less and less fur on my clothes.
A solitary claw sheath now and then.
No new rips in the wallpaper.
The sofa will stay half-shredded.
The bedpost will count no more scratches.
You didn't get time to claw this duvet cover.
No more stray catnip mice around this house.
No more flying leaps onto my head at night.
No more tripping me up in the doorways.
No more running to me when I whistle.
It's no fun singing 'Chitty Chitty Bang Bang'
without you here to stare in shock and disgust -
(and sometimes, perhaps, a little admiration)
I wonder if you miss the poetry readings too.
Sitting patiently while I read you
the entire book of T. S. Eliot cat poems.
Or do you stop by sometimes?
I think you do.
A year of days and nights without you.
No more "me&cat" - no more you.
There will be many years without you,
this was just the first.
The years without you will never
take away the years we had.
(thank you my little darling - sleep peacefully)
© Morney Wilson, April '06
- Mood:
grateful
killer_llamas here.Hello, our fans.
You may remember that we like to write a parody now and then. The Hag tells us this is because we are incapable of writing our own verse and therefore have to 'steal' it from other people.
She knows nothing.
But then, she is not a poet and she cannot be expected to understand us artistic types.
We have a community called
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parody_city for this very purpose. Please feel free to join it. it ineeds new life and you would be welcome. We would like to write more for it but we are so overworked looking after the lazy woman here that it is all we can do to drag ourselves up the attic stairs at night before we fall asleep. We are only allowed two hours sleep before the Hag wakes us again.Please join our community!! Even if it is just to shut us up. But we know that many of you are talented writers and we think you might get some enjoyment, challenge and amusement from it. It can be a parody of a poem or a song. All we ask is that you post the original lyrics/words first as that usually ultimately makes it funnier. Please do this behind an LJ cut.
We are serious.
We recently wrote a parody which we are going to post here and in the community. It is, of course, very good. You may or may not have heard of a poem called 'The Listeners' by Walter de la Mare. This is 'The LLamas' by Walter de le LLama.The only person who has read it so far is GHag. She was very moved and impressed by it, such that she wrote us a fan letter. We have to say that we had made an error in giving her the link to the English to AOL translator and she sent us a 'fan letter' which she ran through the translator first:
"DEAERST LMACI2S
I CANT TEL U HOW MUCH I 3NJOYED UR WOND3RFUL PARODY OF DA LISTEN3RS - U R TEH MOST WONDARFUL POATS!!111!!1!1! I HAEV 2 T3L U TAHT IM MOST D3FINIETLEY UR NUMBR ONA FAN!!!!!!1!!1!!!1 OMG UR WIT UR ELOQUENC3 UR WONDARFUL WAY WIT WORDS .!!!11!11111!!1!11 WTF LOL I CUD GO ON AND ON LMACI2S!!!11!1!!1!! OMG WTF LOL PLZ L3T ME KNOW IF U WIL B DONG ANY PERFORMANCA PO3TRY READNGS IN MAH AERA SON??!??!!?!?!!!??! OMG LOL I DO HOP3 SO!
WITH!!!1111!!11!1!1! OMG LOL LUV AND U IN AEW AND WONDER
GHAG XXXXXXXXXXX"
It left us feeling a bit disturbed. We got a fright and one of us fainted, rather like the time the Hag cut her hair in the bathroom without telling us (which, we might add, she has also done tonight).
Anyway, without further ado..
As you know, we have an extremely hard life doing all the cleaning up and washing dishes for the Hag. We like to use Shake 'n' Vac, a white powder (no not cocaine, although we wish it was sometimes) when hoovering the carpet. It leaves a a nice scent of freshness in the air and we just love doing it.
No we are not losers. Anyway here in the UK, it's called shake 'n' vac. Shakes onto the floor, hoover it up and voilaaaaaaaaaaaa! Much of our life revolves around cleaning the Hag's house, so this poem came out to express some of our inner enragement. Original first.
( The Listeners by Walter de la Mare )
( THE LLAMAS by Walter de la LLama )
Fanmail to killer.llamas@gmail.com
seraphimsfire has a new community wtf_dreams just for y'all to describe those dreams and hopefully get some interpretations!!Join it now!!
On December 1, 2008.... 3 poets will be selected as finalists. After a week long vote (by all the site's members), the winner will be the 2008 Online Poet of the Year, trophy and cash prize included. And right now, I'm working hard to ensure a publishing deal is included as well. This will be a yearly event.
I can't get my head get round what he's done with them all. I love them. Some of them are stunning - and some of them are so different from what I expected, it's incredible. Yeah, I'll be uploading them all.
I've asked him to do a blog on his myspace page about it with a link to my myspace page and a link to where you can buy my book. He's told me a lot of musician friends of his really want to hear it - they want to hear his interpretations and my words... they're all people who've worked with a lot of my favourite country stars.
My head is reeling a little.
http://download.yousendit.com/3AB39AB848
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