PoemTree6

poems by Rudolf Kurt Penner

Ode by Lewis Carroll = me

the chocolate eight
of a cake of chocolate cherry
the magic buttons on the silver coat
turned twice
and presst against the breast of society
the cake was great – as a matter of fact
it was all we ate

the cherry turned full-round on its heel
and rolled into the cup of orange peel
and then a cup of tea

Something cannot take away the joy
of cake of chocolate; not a hater or a debater

not a Wilmhing winer of a dine
the hourglasss and the end of the old oak table
stained brown

the cake remains a perfect harmony
unto itself

©2016 Rudolf Kurt Penner

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April 28, 2016 Posted by | esoteric/unintelligible, Not Fade Away, wild and free | , , , , , | Leave a comment

parent(heses)

As we were walking

  and in a group, she said

I’ll put that on when we get to my place:

  it was Fernando, by ABBA

and that was the artist, Inge

  but she never did

But some forlorn loudspeaker

     that was rather quiet,

       was playing it on the street

I said I could play in on the guitar:

     no comment, so I said it again

     no comment  plus – I’ll put that on

       when we get back home

I have that one

The sun was shining for once; and we’d met

  on the wall that goes around the sea

There I was taking photos of my friend Sylvia

        practicing kung fu

born of a forlorn preacher

The Russians stept in,

and everybody left; everybody who could, that is,

   they soldiered on thru

       to other continents,

miserable oceans by boat

I caught a glimpse of my mum’s Chinese,

   but she would say she forgot

   she would lay in bed for days

     after she got cancer

     and stink up the house with

her rotting peaches

What a drag it must be, to be like that

mentally ill people don’t get cancer

at least I’ve never met one

      miserable oceans apart

what it must be like, living on

  a dog’s leash

a gift of the horse in the mouth

     a grave on either side

     some artist wrote a book

some author plays the game of brandy + cigars

   talks with the gen’lmen-scholars

  and they go back to their boots and hunting

      and triggers and hairpins

and planning the annihilation of the enemy

Tigers walk slowly, eyeing up their prey

   the tips of crows’ wings  setting off the sky

What if the grass is greener on the other side

   And parents off the tan their offspring’s hide

I don’t know what i feel inside

with all the oil paint sitting there unused

the tiggers hoped I’d create a portrait

of them stealing through the brush

the way I figger I can’t get caught

doing something bad

   It’s the best linen canvas you ever had

I would lay back for days

coaxing my back back into shape

  It hurts after working

  and the frog outside keeps croaking

Crow may leave a versatile feather

        for me to pick

  from the ashes

in the sand

And I will go play in the band

with all my wet music

  stained and haunted by

        a silent sadness

©2014 by Rudolf Kurt Penner

January 15, 2016 Posted by | about artists/poets, Not Fade Away, Personal History, social commentary | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Caring for the Coffeeshop

caring for the coffeeshop
where the owner is always present
or is presenting one of the employees he chose
working the internet
from his own free Wi-Fi
that is – it’s free for us,
the Cute customers
but he’ll always gather himself
up to serve a coffee
or arrange the pastries,
never getting lost on the net
like us Average Joe’s
The rough-worn bar whose sides just look old
and may indeed be old –
but brought in to enhance
the modern feel interior
decorator did a fine job, maybe himself
so fine even I am caring for the coffeeshop
in turquoise clay the mud is poured
dining in traditional Chinatown, now
leased to Whites and Browns
who’ll pay any price to open up;
unafraid of losing a couple hundred grand
how can people be unafraid of losing
a couple of hundred grand
and be so nice about it
at the same time
I gave myself an extra dime
to make a call from an extinct phone booth;
40¢ just wasn’t enough
to call the beach
where the Persian lackadaisical man informed the ocean
of his being
here
some girl tore to shreds
the remnants of his life
a wild ride
with real estate
he’s leaving he’s leaving
after weaving his tale

how can people be so cool
to work around the purer rule
of certainty and law
leaving their non-existent baggage
at the door
of science and nature

© 2015 Rudolf Kurt Penner

April 23, 2015 Posted by | All Poems, food, hoping for success, Not Fade Away, plain & simple | Leave a comment

cheer up mr. sunshine

…attending the magnificent sunrise in their hearts

and open arms greeting you

in the heaven of your joy!

a musical note will pipe the tune

and grass will grow under your feet

you’ll work as you walk up the street

and you won’t weep

and ladybugs’ll land on your finger as you hold it out…

                     (excerpt from “cheer up mr. sunshine”. To get the complete poem contact me.)

© 2009 Rudolf Kurt Penner

October 12, 2012 Posted by | All Poems, esoteric/unintelligible, flowers and trees; girls and bees, Not Fade Away, spiritual | Leave a comment

The Wheel Keeps On Turning

(excerpts from The Wheel Keeps on Turning)

…Makin’ a whole lotta Cash
Sinbad now plays the geetar…

…I hope he learns to sing
…leaning on the rail
and the Wheel keeps on turning…

…two losers in bed
neither human
nor ashamed…

…I bought my souvenir
of a better time…

…Back-to-back hits charging out radio speakers
always the same, always lame…

…Magpies and scorpions overhead…

…Choking on dying plants
and cosmic rants…

…The leaves are brown for sure…

…and the Wheel keeps on turning…

(to get the poem in its entirety please contact me)

©  2012 Rudolf Kurt Penner

July 8, 2012 Posted by | All Poems, esoteric/unintelligible, Not Fade Away, social commentary | , | Leave a comment

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©  2012 Rudolf Kurt Penner

July 8, 2012 Posted by | All Poems, Concrete Poems, esoteric/unintelligible, flowers and trees; girls and bees, Not Fade Away, self healing poems, spiritual | Leave a comment

Carnivals

Sleep then children
let your tears wash you dry
Let the organ music drown your sorrow
and stop thinking, for God’s sake,
stop thinking
Eat your oatmeal in the morning when it can do you no good,
your eggs at night when they congest your sinuses
drink your milk and eat your bananas late to get bad dreams
Sleep with the light on
and plenty of noise from the street
so you will miss the birds that tweet in the morning dew
Never talk to yourself or to each other
for the State is your Mother and your brother

The rains will come no matter what
Trees will grow to hide your pain
and all will be done in the name of your good
Be kind to carnivals
and music festivals of all kinds,
let them sway you into a lull
and cause your insides to burst in your 50s

© 2011

February 29, 2012 Posted by | All Poems, food, Not Fade Away, self healing poems, social commentary | Leave a comment

jazz blue audio and washline

Black and white next to the door
It doesn’t matter anymore
The Night is Blue
And me and You
have seen so many things
that oranges could conceivably be compared to oranges
And the knitted hammock hanging in the wind
is compared, but not often, to a firmer bed
Things have gone wrong
– in my head
Black is white and white is black
and jazz-blue audio
is concentrating near the stereo

Tight and dry the washing holds
to the line across the yard
the Dark is Day
and she and he they will participate
and getting acquainted in the air
What’s fair and square
the melon never will trapeze
what collected carpet in the hallway floor
– rolled and set and full of dirt
like a jacuzzi after the stream
and greying rooms let their shadows in on all the secrets
away, away with you
–from carnival to carnival

© 2011

February 29, 2012 Posted by | All Poems, esoteric/unintelligible, love & relationships, madness, Not Fade Away, social commentary | Leave a comment

Listening – is the Greatest Thing

Listening to the greatest hits of the Doobies

with my leaf green-, yellow- and red-striped Parker pen in hand

the guitar, naked, parked against a crack-open dresser drawer

       perched like the sounds won’t come out

this long diatribe on the state-of-affairs

because of being the long version of ‘the best’

striped bacon ready to be ranch-fried

am I ready for Spring?    Are you?

fickle telephone books with their changing number, lying discarded on the floor

Come to think of it

        All things are planned

        thus the Doobies made it Big.

Here on April 7th, the weather rainy and impinging

Top-heavy like a topcoat at the start of summer

Listening – that is the greatest thing

© 2010  Rudolf Penner

April 7, 2010 Posted by | about artists/poets, All Poems, hoping for success, Not Fade Away | Leave a comment

Riders on the Storm

Someone playing Riders on the Storm
on the jukebox with my breakfast.
The early piano run tinkling right into my brain
filling my soul with meadows
and thinking of some guy named Andrew Beddows
I could’ve taken toast off numerous tables
or 1/2-deserted eggs
the place is full in such a way;
like tables full of mostly-finished food
and other tables with people
sitting there, mostly waiting for food
and one or two unhurriedly at the jukebox.


Their breakfast comes and they stay with the box
married to the tunes
It’s a day where people are
flush with money
ready to spend. Pit stop, and then
the everlasting energy to shop for a day

September 6, 2008 Posted by | All Poems, food, Not Fade Away, plain & simple, spiritual | , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment