CRAVING

You know when you crave,
It indicates what you lack,
Some nutrition or mineral,
Some elemental need?

I am craving
Hot sauce.

I can't think of anything
But wanting
Buffalo wings and Thai soup
With chili oil pools.

The mushrooms and meat
Are not the point.

But sauce with a spoon,
To burn and linger,
To make me real,
To feel.

I wonder what it means
I need.

by Lori Martin, 5/31/15

GIVE ME ANOTHER
by Lori Martin, 5/31/15

OH, let me be
Numb between the red
Rashes of TRUE
Poetry inflicts.
The more I attend
To this bitter muse,
The more I am
Dissolved.
What is me
Left after?
Sleep keeps
Me here.
Yes, one more.

WHAT IS THIS?!

I eat crap

I binge-watch t.v.

I drink more than I want to

I troll list-icles on Bored Panda

I spend money I don’t have (OMFG, AE!)

If I didn’t eat watch drink troll spend so DAMN much,

I could have time to cook healthy food.

I could take walks and meet friends.

I could write and paint.

I could pray.

I could think!

Ah, there’s that rub… rubbed RAW.

I would remember

I would feel lonely

I would be afraid

I would despair

I would wonder why I was alive

If I thought about it too much, it would HURT. DAMN.

I started out trying to write a poem;

To write a truth that would call me out, but

There aren’t any internal rhythms.

Is this even anything?

I need a drink.

POETRY

by Lori Martin

This art is too tame.

This tiny pen line on paper,

Straining to remain in control,

Is too focused on the point.

I need a brush and a bucket.

I need a stage from which

To leap, scream, and dance.

Poets do it with so much tension!

All the passion and vehemence

Of a scribble. In creating,

I strain against this palpitating

Pain, this pressure berating

My brain beats against the padded walls of my skull screams

Poetry

Is a painful, messy birth

In the wilderness

Leaving nothing but paper

And confined scribbles

Ready-made for rejection

With a self addressed envelope.

This art is too tame.

NINE LINES

 
You are an inexorable reality.

I cannot ignore you, and

I cannot escape you.

I cannot contain or explain you.

You always shock my expectation,

Being not what I thought you should be,

Therefore more true,

Because you are Other than me.

You are the convincing surprise.

SAVING THE WORLD ONE PLASTIC BOTTLE AT A TIME

by Lori Martin 

On a charity walk around our lake

To save snow leopards (and the planet),

A boy in front of us, about eight,

Chucked a plastic bottle into the water.

His mother, blonde and pink-breasted, 

Slapped him in the head and walked on.

We stopped and twittered,

indignant.

The men-folk among us

Scientifically chucked stones

(ignoring for the moment the issue of erosion)

Landing them just past the bottle, mostly.

This eventually affected its migration

Toward the shore until Jimmy,

(Who can't swim but is tallest),

Timorously stretched out his hand,

And plucked the offending object

From the water. "Hurrah!"

After celebrating our victory

Over all enemies of Nature,

We put the plastic in the trash,
(No recycling in sight)
And finished our asphalt walk
Saving snow leopards (and the planet.)

POOR THING
by Lori Martin

When you are alone in a crowd
- Childless -
A toddler - running in glee and loving this moment -
Gets turned-around and mistakes
Your leg for its mother’s.

For one flashing moment
You are in the chemical-electric soup
Of squishy human hug-love.

But you know.
The poor thing is betrayed.
You are not its mother.
You scan the crowd… where is the right leg?
Maybe you can find it in time,
And relinquish this free affection
Before…

It looks into your eyes in horror
- You are horrible -
It screams and runs away and
Leaves you alone in a crowd
- Childless -
Poor thing.

MUIR'S THREAD
by Lori Martin

“Tug on anything at all and you'll find it connected to everything else in the universe.” John Muir

I pull a string,
A thin thread,
Lint, really, on life's filter,
An annoyance,
Out of place,
I pull hastily,
And out comes
A duck, flapping,
Geese in a V,
A heron pursuing a turtle,
And their lake,
Reflecting trees unraveling,
Spilling leaves like autumn,
And I grasp with both hands,
Planting my feet to gain purchase
And out comes the whole sky in pale colors
Of spring, hiding the deep night
And its many other threads
In a tangled ball of order
We call
The universe.
Thunderstruck,
I stop pulling
And collapse
In the heap of it all.

HEADLINES
by Lori Martin

I paste a ransom note out of these headlines
Shredding the words for dear life
Demanding an answer NOW

Poverty violence hatred despair
Pain death destruction greed
Homelessness abandonment
Oppression neglect

Who is to blame?
What can be done?
Where is there justice?
When will it end?
WHY?

I spell it all out in torn letters
I beg the powers-that-be
Rewrite this! Please. If you can.

After a time, in the silence,
I paste a wish list
Out of these headlines.

Love courage grace mercy
Healing redemption hope
Beauty joy kindness life
Justice peace.


(I wrote the first draft of this after September 11, 2001; and rewrote it April 28, 2015.)