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| KJ Hannah Greenberg
KJ Hannah Greenberg is frenetic about writing. She believes that there are too few hours to adequately capture all of life's wonderful and challenging moments in text. She molds stories, essays, and poetry, anyway. Her latest collection of poetry, A Bank Robber's Bad Luck with His Ex-Girlfriend (Unbound CONTENT, 2011) is currently available for purchase. Her next collection, Supernal Factors, will be produced by
The Camel Saloon's Books on Blog, in August. | | 
© Yiftach Paltrowitz, 2010 | |
| Launching Space Probes Toward the HR Department
Launching space probes toward the HR Department used to mean No more than the proffering of unruffled cowardice or a few barbell lifts, Some plans to hire college friends, also random complaints about office torture.
These days, though, first-aid kits, the de-icing of windshield wipers, litter boxes, Select misogynous thoughts, too, are called for when simultaneously presenting offers Via YouTube, hallway posters, hat racks, select billboards, chartered yachts, even private airplanes.
Comprehending a job market is no longer good or reasonable; there’s no Part of feeding the dog left in seeking economy class seats, basement prices, stolen goods. Appeasing personnel agents means getting a creative groove going; veiled coercion works.
Sure, certain expertise continues to influence permanent relationships. Yet, the hum-drum dissembling of alternate candidates’ virtues pays more gold Than unholy negotiations could ever tender; silly boy, it still takes money to make money.
Bucking at Captains
For combat, Envisioning safeties, When bucking at captains, Make small boys Career-free, or hemmed in By guttural ways That grunt awareness.
Retreatism or rebellion, Gross blankets of society, slip Yellow, straight, taunt While fresh vistas’ old truths Prove paths imbued with reasoning Rot bricks of nations. Such derision boasts eternities!
Tour guides, nonetheless, Varnish maps in Swedish, Plaster enterprises while Preying on Anglo visitors Rich in cameras, Picturing themselves important Enough to plant mortality.
Similar payments, Giants and players, Fledged early en route At professional destinations, Design, immediately, Happiness’ commercial coincidence Antimacassars, all.
Meanwhile, extended multiple, Kindred episodes Direct, vis-a-visa exultant cards, High school secrets, Bettered credit, International forgery. Old apples’ forgotten.
The best of lives Toss wartime oaths, Melted in sunshine, Otherwise, studded with pearls. Collective frontiers, plus Surreptitious ambitions, Become history’s carnifexes.
Empty of Meaningful Intelligence
Elated, I prate about worse lives, those windows neither clean nor smudged, Which strew light upon sheaves of brilliant-colored translations, also on voluble Wastrels, preoccupied not with respects of debt, but with emotional subrogation.
It seems, thus, that spilled social asafetida, idle talk, chitter-chatter, gossip, Morph to smiles, even flourishes, where social compost ought to be sifted, Especially at places repudiated for maunderers, rather than mentations.
Laughter, in little goldfish bubbles, seeks its own horizon, means to Disavow onlookers, to dispel illusions evoked by hortatory speeches; Those times when fresh epiphenomena scamper, when twaddle thrives.
Accordingly, these days, distortions get distilled from our middens’ essence; Fiery cerebral images, which flicker mindfulness, become, ultimately, the new trash. Head in my cup, I watch my efforts toward meaningful intelligence get minimalized away.
Literal Definition
Fey turtle asked dear owl to explain, “Tell me wise sir, what is ‘pain’?”
Stuffy old bird harrumphed, snorted, smiled, “Leave the question here; let me think a while.”
Sagacity hooted all the night, Until gunshot ruffled him into a fright.
A bit perturbed, loudly, he complained, “Lack of comfort, my fellow, that is ‘pain’.”
Squandered Moral Collections
Those supplemental, fun compilations of visits, moments almost accessible from past escapades, Tend to render tittles upon comers, voyeurs, audiences, passersby and judges, alike. After all, it isn’t only elementary school boys, who, when encouraged, became enamored.
We expected more would be infatuated by opposing thumbs, shifting verdigris, aerogell buckets, As well as by strong men, human skeletons, carloads of clowns, acquiescing ring masters. Devoid of alternate directions, most charmed persons take shifts before thinking to form queues.
It seems people fail as soon as (trapeze) artists appear in sheaths, tights or multicolored sequins. Otherwise hardy sorts, elders plus youths, eagerly spin messes of deceit, one upmanship, delusion, As though the triple rings have been designed solely for chivalry’s sake, for gallant posturing
Rather than for authentic profit, verifiable promotion, honest self-grandeur, the verities of ego. Please understand that urban neighborhoods, places of business, circuses, remain miraculous Environments, despite the fact that most qbits’ designs cost entire sets of redeeming qualities.
Barbacoa on the BBQ
Next door, barbacoa, pungent, juicy, sloppy, raw, steams on the ‘ole bar-be-que. A cow’s head sautés in cassava, chili arbol, wine, garlic, tamarind, also cilantro. That wood smoker’s busy with maguey leaves, with Los Barbadoes limbs.
It remains beyond speculative fiction to convince Abuelita that cheeks, tongue, eyes Ought to stay in Gray’s Anatomy rather than be featured in fajitas or snacked with fingers; She esteems bare earth pits, too, as only good for communicating intergenerational staccato.
So, the women of her house thrust fresh tortillas dripping with offal, hugs, harangues, chores, Sauce, maybe bits of plants, at their intimates. All know full well that heaven’s kisses Manifest, sometimes, as sweet meat, as thick soup, as backyard tradition offered to youngsters.
Nibbled to Death by Ducks and Other Useless Pithy Sayings
The problem with hybrids is horses trump mules, Intergalactic life’s not merely fiction, also, hedgehogs bite. Coaxing a vegetable patch into productivity Means, most often, foregoing rewriting habits. Plus, it’s long been vain and entirely foolish To somaticize misogyny among members of the track and field team.
The need to challenge social supremacy evolved because Butterfly gardens, even when surrounded by large sunbeams, Couldn’t transform worms into compost factories or switch up Manure’s value. Simply, throwing breakfast cereal around, in Ivy League halls, Remained underrated, causing too many thinkers’ to get packed permanently. Hegemonic justice still reinstates overseers long before hazy morals clear.
Alternatively, owning a new car beats getting by with bus passes. Such transportation invalidates contentions that my husband’s tribe raids boarders; New schedules, not to mention transfers and correct change flummox them. There are no fiduciary incentive known to man, which manage to reassure Young ark raider that theropods, as shown in museums, movies, YouTube, Are other than images conjured by Nineteenth Century amateurs.
Sadly, more vapid than flying squirrels, some parents yet foam over acceptance letters From name brand schools, employers fixated on future means, marriage partners. Sending junior off to venues where the quiddity of social climbing is learnt Where smart moles understand that it’s briskly refreshing to offer contritions Provides enough tripe, blather, other assorted nonsense to bring Dialectic so insufferable as to call up all manners of anatidae.
Those feathery fellows, in turn, happily make frotteunstic victims out of youths Or consort with unsuspecting humans bedecked, in jewels’ flavorful fashions. Finding it insufficient purely to abide the forensics of boarding schools, Certain aquatic birds struggle free from words’ imperfections, Sway, then heave green-backed remedies for addiction, depression, inheritance. Select loons, grebes, coots, known for adolescents’ erudition, peck.
Dabbling ducks, it seems, feed mainly by upending. They’ve no remorse over Deconstructing familial expectations. In spite of everything, small town registers Know nothing of critical thinking, of creative approaches, of using intellect rather Than slouching through with social clout. Personal needs, in light of intergenerational Strictures, revert folly, push human habituation toward boorish fratire, Save for when ducklings refuse stony asteroids and domestication. The Resting Places of All of Those Bits
The resting places of all of those bits, Whose velocity, in distance per second, Divided by the radius of diverse curves, Consistently was comprised of locations neglected, yet Accounting, so it seems, for the growth of self-preserving political movements.
Consider, as a child, I got lost in an electronics lab, Short three credits, I swallowed, cried, puked up Extra tasks required so that I could graduate among students Familiar with lionized elements blinking, otherwise signaling From test tubes, beakers, wash bottles, flasks, evaporating dishes, crucibles.
Mixing colloids, compounds, other solutions, Brought, most usually, bromidic responses; Teaching assistants, gutted minimal wagers, bored By supervising experiments to be poured, discarded, Dumped out, read Nietzsche rather than supervised, resulting in surprises.
One of my swished together liquids birthed a critter, Whose blue-flamed expressiveness quickly ignited The wellbeing of more than one philosophical sentry. Lacking sufficient sargassum, cynicism, or common sense, I insulated that beast, tucking him into a mason jar amid xanthine crystals.
Ignorant that amorphous comestibles, typically, fuel monsters, Support dictatorships, fund despots, I saw my newborn text Morph, less than a fortnight; mythological infant to full-fledged Autocrat, fond of monopolies, megacities, and nuclear morsels. Fortunately, mostly media, science, also martial industries, were killed.
The Best Thing You Ever Put Lips around
The best thing you ever put lips around Was not oryx steak on the veldt, Nor five nights’ worth of guided tours of my spleen.
Rather, once, tittering, you grasped, Between tongue and teeth, Entire surfeits of extraordinary wisdom.
Those comestibles cost, in real time, Your extrication of base matters, self-serving opinion, Haughtiness, also sewer leavings.
Even so, once upon my kingdom, You emptied your heart to make room For empathy, kindness, likewise shared acumen.
The Girls beneath the Furniture
The girls beneath the furniture, Wrapped in tulle, silk, polyester, Snuck bits of kugel, kishka, cake, While remaining mindful just to nibble.
There was much to learn, under tables, About operating cell phones, buying pantyhose, Sheaving rounds of cotillion negotiations Into neatly stacked marriage proposals.
At least, positive responses flitted Like there were meant to be wives Among the thistles which bloomed Acerbic and piquant on the dance floor. Gan Eden, I Think
Is not a state of bud, green branch, First fruit, fine bloom, or stem, sun-drenched, But Shore of Sighs, an Ocean’s High- Placed Hopes, in due course settled.
Times such select, far-flung Beachfront swells, Sweet Calm salts, permuting sorrows. Nonworldly Sluices purge, exclaim in sotto, “Away! A gone! ”
Adjacent, Crest of Light’s soft lull, Unbinds spent essences mournfully known, Divinely shifting “aches” to “glows;” Wet Radiance pervades!
Caliber wasted; kindness spurned; Age deprived; youth unremittingly burned; Humble spirits squandered, else violently conserved, Find Cosmic’s Teardrops foster plus preserve.
Small selves wronged, there reinstated. “Rough-censured” grow to “consecrated,” Holy chosen, live evermore absorbed With means to gift back the Munificent Sea.
Foundations repaired by that Seaboard’s touch, Prove precious, essential, benevolently much- Returning toward Singular Forms of Luminosity; Sharing rewards when furthermore restored.
Afar from common dreams of field or sky, A Neighboring Realm where angels bide, Gliding over smooth sands, singing comforting wisdom, One Awesome Coastline ensures Gan Eden. A Skyjacker's Discovery of a Mad Man's Quem
Primitive stone mill prove helpful for grinding thaums by hand. Verdigris, similarly, is useful when painting gargoyles or coloring in henchmen. Astrolabes, it seems, however, ought to be reserved for other systems’ denizens.
Short centuries after consulting his clepsydra, he harnessed sufficient mental mammals To demand his neighbor’s ancillary chimeras litter elsewhere or yield their place in line. Hungry domestics deserve no leeway least they be spoiled by deprecation. Contempt’s all a mage ought to have needed to dyke up energy particles. Except, they’re Times when mad men run their quems into the night. Such operations remain dangerous. Small units, likewise older sorts, run at the first sound of pulverizing. It’s necessary.
Only goldfish chilled in Champaign bottle, spotted kangaroos, wombats, too, survive Machinations whose unfathomable proportions invite cosmic shuffling. Silly beasts. More common critters, alternatively, remain destined, despite fair kismet, to be lunch.
Efforts Otherwise Understood
Ever exasperated with efforts otherwise understood, the tom licked one paw. No single critter, in The True North, or abroad, appreciated his putative rationale, Despite evidence that swallowing field mice headfirst was traditional among kin.
As suited select champions, techies, plus additional support staff, all who failed mightily, Getting busted alongside addicts, petty thieves, homicidal wack jobs, whores, made news. Immolation was not usually needed to make weak sorts confess enough to build alibis.
Instead, reason jumped past transoms when televised voices repeatedly “discovered” New or large populations worthy of being submitting to second level trampling. In realms Beyond the Arctic, only elves, their fraternal pals, some friends, benefit from statutory justice.
Me and Super Fool: A Surprise Catharsis for an Adolescent's Imaginings
Me and Super Fool? Our “pairing” straight away challenged some rules.
Fictitious, our coupling, yet glamoured by all, Even emphasized by buzz in Dogety’s Hall.
“What’s his caller I.D?” “Where’s he at on Facebook?” “Is she that babe?” “Does she really hook?”
The cross-x committee, all bleach and dreadlocks, Meant to dis our quintessence, to bestow social pox.
Those curious troops, those minions to many Gathered, charged with resolve, to find any
Proof that we twittered as love birds, or linked Up or IMed or something more slink.
Nonetheless, via miracle, he saved the day, Instead of a fax, he appeared and did say,
“Our media, convergent and otherwise mad, Is okay for the masses, but paltry for dyads.”
Capricious, my fool’s shrewdness, the crowds then besought And rumors around us became as of naught.
Never a prom queen, not a cheerleader, I, instead, came to enjoy something much greater. Fool’s reputation buoyed me.
My words were not flitted, my looks not reduced; Instead, I morphed into an exceptionally "superior" youth.
Quinoa in my Keyboard and Other Traces of Fantasy
Puffed cereal sticks Both escape and delete When prototype verse Competes with sombulence.
I’d rather hug a porcupine Than sell even one of your Motes, pages, or letters, On eBay.
Your sentiments, Shared, Like yesterday’s windup bears, Remain publically immaterial.
Our union’d be copasetic, Glamoured in good wishes, And otherwise kind of sparkly If only you’d appear.
His Mistresses’ Grandeur astride Common Sense
Without kon-tiki platters, braced to receive select sorts of meerschaum, during big events, Those vacuous strata, represented by better dressed women, deflate, drop all Pretensions of droit du seigneur, elect, instead to sucker punch would-be plaintiffs.
It seems that in places where competition’s rife with gabbling, where fishes fly or not Depending on rhymed compensation, which often gets pushed past bezoars, other blather, Ambitious persons swell, high aspirations aflutter until met with impassable strictures.
Consequent to such impenetrable gasping, those most talented protagonists, Hands behind heads, barking until gorged, go all kissy face, forgive, Take fresh bribes, march back for unsullied clothes, then express readiness to renew.
After supplementary vows, they employ their special silviculture for making whoopee, Also, for facilitating equals to basic telephony; the king wakes by drum beat, Orders an execution or six, embezzles a cool half billion, then naps.
The value of such goings on makes for stabile memories, conjured sledges or rushes, Predictable market conditions. What’s more, estiuation, the likes of which embrace snow, Not sun, enjoys precipitation. Life’s best bits are necessarily juicy. | |
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