Hollow and Solid Chocolate Santas
By Quasimofo and Halifax
For Haggard and Halloo Readers
(Merry X-mas!)

Sometimes i chomp into a Santa
head thinking it’s solid chocolate
but forget to read the package
which says “hollow” and i bite
my tongue spurting a powdered-
sugared blood-glaze atop dainty
nutbreads and fruitcakes.
Somewhere inside my mouth
the decapitated Santa is laughing
at me and taunting me with slurs
like: “I see you when you’re
you’re sleeping with sex-dolls!”
But then i chug down rummed
eggnog and introduce Santa
to the stomach acids lake-of-fire
Hell in my rumbly wish-list tumbly
(along with the Justin Bieber
X-mas CD i mistook
for peanut brittle)
and i get the last laugh!
Or do I?

It’s times like this i think maybe
naughty and nice       really     don’t
share the same fate…

she’d called up Grandma living in the woods
to tell her she sent out the brat-skis
and expected back some sweet children
punched down by the crone who raised her
to be the smart cookie she turned into

“be sure you give them bread crusts”
grandma chides her favorite daughter,
“to feed my birds along the way
so the flock will be well primed
to pick them apart on the way back
should they try to break and run like their crummy father already has gone
before their raising bit is done.”

She seemed so sure about the kids
how easy they’d be to mold like her
well-bred to gingerly embrace adulthood
just as her mother had done for her

what magic they must have worked on her
when not but an autumn had come and gone
those awful children came back unchanged
with tales of capturing grandma’s heart
and having their fill of her candy house

enough to make a mama want to run off, alone
consumed by what might have been had she known
how escape comes easy if held off long enough
for that wicked witch’s mind to go like it did
at the end
head first in the oven with the gas on full
as soon as those ungrateful hellions went home

teething on tethers

It occurred again
in a rerun of a previous episode
seen once in “Scarsdale P.I.”
The plot was thin
the characters flat
the laugh track out of synch
with lurching dialogue
supported by the familiar

It occurred to me
how much better it could be
how much better other shows
had been in the past
and what I would change
to improve it
like cancel it
replace it with something better

It occurred that day
within the context of that show
that this manufactured experience
was tying me down,
one link in a chain
holding my attention
in a stranglehold
making my eyes bug out
and restricting my airway

It occurred only for an instant
then the instant was past
that all the shows are like that
and nothing measures up
to my expectations

The weakest examples
reveal the fragile absurdity
and serve as points of departure
ready to be sloughed off
should I choose nothing
but to entertain myself

Bored before beginning the option
wholly being audience, host, and script
a linked trinity inside myself
as empty in depth as any show
but without the option of escape

I bared a belly laugh
out of synch with the laugh track
and finally got the show

There is nothing better now
and I am firmly held in place
wondering what will happen next
the rerun a playful jab
at the shallowness of life
making light the heavy burden
of perceived connections
attaching my life to meaning
It has nothing to do with me.

from Sound® (the makers of Noise™)
by Halifax

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so I say

you asked
and in so asking grant
me the privilege
the prerogative
to speak an answer

as was said
one night when together
I broached with ,”so…”
and away we went
asking, granting,
the privilege
knowledge of each other
brought

so as you, you by-product,
bought and lawfully taken
by asking and granting,
delve into the nature
of my furtive reasoning
the why’s and how’s
unreasonably wise
howling for answers
given an infuriating reply
“because I said so”
and in so speaking
caused to be the reason
you are seeking
speaking to me now
unreasonably proud
and certain there is more
but no, there is not
it is simply so

(Begging Your Pardon)

sunset showed up at the neighbors
went around back as if expected
alongside slunk gangly creatures
shushed dull party animals that try
the wrong keys on a locked screen

these dumb beetles bump the door
top and bottom rubbing repeatedly
sensuous on the jamb hum apologies
“if i woke you, excuse me, sorry guy”
clumsy humping the unmoved hinges

some sit still stranded on a windowsill
in wait for their turn to murmur numbly
planning an incessant sidelong skitter
to scratch spent black match heads
sure the next strike will ignite interest

undeterred by failure each rebounds
again laid out on a patio set prostrate
exhausted face down drunk on spirit
such patient penitence perturbs none
especially those enraptured by dusk

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

usually evening appeals bring attention
but these bugs beg an incorruptible dark
that lies convincingly July is a bed made
to stay up one more night without them
while they carouse wear out of Spring

for a visiting star, this porch light deity,
they nightly drag bellies on pilgrimage
sliding across blades and bare concrete
to pray to a day that came to stay on
in exchange for life’s meaningless hours

their headlong body collisions sparkle
light embers that crawl into dim brains
turning them to dry whimpering babies
since Star abandoned them for morning,
a new dawn snuffs out yesterday’s love

© 2011 Anonymous, SE America

repeat offender

afloat in space
the likeliest suspects
get selected from the jury pool
to stand trial
before a frozen mathematics,

around, aware hypocrites
sit near legal council
calculating the table settings
which radiate toxic gravity
holding everything in order
each awaiting their turn
to testify and stand accused

the greatest spectacle
just came to watch
background radio
report on the crimes

creaky silverware squelches
an interruption,
accusing with God
everything alive listening

fist clenched pocket napkins
crumple under vacuum
as I come out alone
at first to defend myself
later accepting the verdict
based on my own words
I am turned against me

as all without lenience, grace said,
are sentenced to life

God pleased by pronouncement
with return of the findings
releases creation
to their own recognizance
under plea agreement,
go forth and multiply
bailiffs
to detain the witnesses
for cross examination
on charges of sin
brought by hearing the call without without
meant only for an everlasting ear
a sound that eats itself to feel
a feeling that stops itself crying
confessions ashamed of being
while so much else,
eternally more pious,
silent
is not

wheat pennies and wild oats

child raised questions
to trump the outcome
penny bets bluff thought
a vast wealth in fragments
bounce away on the brick stoop

Lincoln’s monument radiates
everywhere a cent is left alone
wage claimants and hazard acts
rake in their own lucky answers
to holey pockets loaded with dice

the old man quit roaming
his lap has room to spare
go on up for one free hug
rifle through the seat cushion
pitch what even money
there is there into wishes
for unending ripples
in the reflecting pool

(and eat it too)

Ran out of childhood
it’s over and I can taste it
mealy freezer burned
sweet frosting in my mouth

angry from the rush
a bus roaring past my stop
left behind potential
so much there in estimation

No cars on the way
the road is filled with glass
crystalline sprinkles
on my corner piece of mind

monsters defeated
front yard pinata allegories
always bow broken
before they cut the cake

extinguished wishes
some humble, some mean
breath and sentiment
wasted on birthday candles

monsters full of me
my gifts are empty boxes
they saved the last
for me after everyone left

coffee black enough
hot, bitter, slow percolated
no kid could drink it
breaks through creme icing

my tongue set free
trunk packed with presents
I take a whack at it
meet family for the big slice

a testing of faith before the chalkboard

I’m not looking up in prayer
I stopped here at a question
that has brought me to halt upon my knees
There’s no worship going on though
nagging praise songs don’t stir me
This open uncertainty is what holds tight

The problem is entrancing
a solution would dissolve it
don’t wash it away yet please
I think I’m in there somewhere
and I’d rather think so for awhile,
lost to the freedom of not knowing