call and response demonstration

King of the World

(For Tom)

 

 

Ensconced on the top tier

His majesty reclines

On fur covered haunches.

His amber eyes blaze

in the soft light—

Fed and brushed

His reign

is resplendent

in feline glory—

Master of the world

servant of none.

Moonlight in September

Loving you has not been easy

you have turned to quicksilver

in my grasping hands.

 

You, wanton woman of my imagination,

have sung siren songs

and lured me to the sensual shoals

of your soft, pliant thighs.

 

You have driven me mad

with unfulfilled desires

as I crash into your emotional reefs.

Though I touch you mud-warm body

I cannot touch your frozen heart.

 

When I hold you tight,

you turn to sand,

or protean-like

you shape-shift to Medusa at midnight

 Aphrodite at dawn

 

You smiling enigma

addicting me

with your opiate of love and lust.

 

Long, long ago

you beckoned me

to your jagged shores.

Loving you has not been easy,

but I cannot let you go—

with you I find sweet agony and painful bliss—

Golden-haired Druid

Hazel-eyed witch of  Endor,

You enchant me

For I am smitten

Once,

Twice,

Thrice—

Forever?

© David Cooper

 

American Gothic

Standing here watching the setting sun go down behind the Wal-Mart parking lot. Where else can I get spirituality and cheap goods made in China by children in sweatshops? I mean free enterprise is not so damn free, now is it? I sho' do love living in the land of poverty where the minds are bereft of history. Standing here waiting for the evening sun to go down, go down behind the Wal-Mart parking lot where the crack hos and meth hos turn their tricks out, then light their pipes and blow their brains out looking for that American dream that flimflam scheme. These meth and crack heads are zombies—the living dead. Bambi is twenty-five without a tooth in her head. That's why I'm standing here watching the sun go down behind the Wal-Mart parking lot, watching Bambi go down for a nickel and a dime.

David Cooper

North Star II

Chicago. New York. St. Louis.

And all destinations

North—

Lawrence poured the tens of

Thousands in red,

Green, and yellow paints

Mixed and matched

Like their patched coats

And runover shoes

And cardboard suitcases.

They boarded:

The Illinois Central, Baltimore and Ohio, and Chesapeake

Bound for that Promised Land.

Lawrence painted

Their sorrow songs

And their gut bucket blues

His brush jazzed their gin.

He painted their bleary eyes

And tired feet

Marching

Riding

Walking

Hoboing

To Freedomland.

copyright David Cooper 2014

 

The Inspiration for "Homer" and Pindar

Sunset on the Ionian Sea

A Silly Poem

Mr. Pringles Cheddarcheese

                                                dances light

                                                And knocks his knees.

                                                Mr. Pringles Cheddarcheese,

                                                I have to sneeze—

                                                Pass the Kleenex

                                                If you please

                                                And say “goodnight”

                                                To Louis and Louise.