Ponderable polemics, poetic

WordPress poetry site of poet Mark Lucker

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  • I’ve checked

    It is no longer a choice to run away, join the circus you need to speak to a recruiter, for screening so says their website French Foreign Legion not an option anymore; I possess none of the high-tech skills they are currently seeking Ironically, being an outcast is no longer a desirable, employable attribute Even carnies… Read more

  • Hiatus

    Its less a case of writers block, more bridge-is- out, take a detour Read more

  • Perched. Quietly.

    Perched. Lurking. A homecoming overture to dance snidely rebuffed former friends wronged, promises not kept, purposely broken someone left behind Threats made in anger bitterness and betrayal; jealousy, envy Sitting, watching. Stoic yet tenuous, sinister yet benign, stone cold and weathering watching, waiting…for…? They are all here gargoyles on my soul Read more

  • Life is an accordion the harder you squeeze, the more discordant the music Read more

  • Pro(lost and)found

    Sitting on the beach in front of my rented cabana watching others relax sipping my daiquiri (banana) wondering how sincere a man can be, ad libbing his mantra Read more

  • Stepping in dogma

    Faith is ego True, deep, abiding exclusionary faith is your ego run amok Blind faith is egomaniacal, contrary to belief , less about submission, more simple self-absorption cum-righteousness Believing is good. Absolute certainty, unfortunately, is all about you Read more

  • Culture shocks

    The ‘Beat Generation’ now needs a pacemaker; they can still Howl – but it’s mostly in discomfort Hippies now take a drag, teeter on artificial joints Peace, love, rock-and-roll? Viagra, naps, Metamucil Culture they unleashed now subjected to leash laws yet I admire their restraint in not pandering to regret Read more

  • So, I call…

    Her night-sultry voice achieves what a closet of negligees cannot Read more

  • Gourmond

    God, incarnate – chili con carne? Does God eat ethnic food? The recipe on the bag of beans brags ‘heavenly chili’ so naturally, I question. Read more

  • “…yon window breaks”

    Light tumbles from her window staining the grass below; elongated rectangle of bright green in the night a trap-door of illumination I want to step on, fall through, down; down into the dusty cellar where she waits by that light. Read more