STFU Poem by Harvey Blasnic

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Next time ya’ll want to tell me
’bout them people
havin’ all them babies
an’ makin’ all that money
bein’ on the government take
with all them benefits you
laugh about as you
ride in the car
Next time you want to tell me
’bout how you were afraid as
you passed the young men on the sidewalk
Next time you want to tell me about their benefits.
Show me
Drive on their street and tell me
so I can hear you better
and we can see the benefits
for ourselves

Next time you want to tell me
how you have noticed
that certain people
don’t work as hard as you
earn their way like you
love God like you

Tell someone else.
I’ve had it with you.

I’ve had it with you.

I’ve had it with me too.

It’s time I had something to say.

Ruthenium, “Periodic Table of Poetry” poem by Chicago poet Janet Kuypers

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Ruthenium

Janet Kuypers

from the “Periodic Table of Poetry”” series (#44, Ru)
7/14/13

IÙve looked for something
that would pique my interest,
the palladium bored me,
platinum was too expensive
because it was often so rare,
but then I looked around
and thatÙs when I discovered you.

I mean, there didnÙt seem to be
much of a use for you,
I even heard that a metals company
even offered 100 grams of you
free to aspiring researchers
(hoping that someone
one day may find a use for you)…

Organometallic chemistry experts
were even trying to give you away.

Well, sure, chemists used you —
they mixed you with whatever
they could find, just to see
what you might possibly create.

(Kind of like a bartender,
trying to come up with
the perfect cocktail, they
could mix for decades…)

but IÙve looked into it,
and youÙre a cheap dull grey,
probably something
IÙd find at a Walmart…

I know, I said I was looking
for something to pique my interest,
and though you come around cheaply,
youÙre still harder to find.
IÙll keep looking for something
to pique my interest,
and who knows, maybe
one day
people will find just the right niche,
and youÙll be just what I need.

Rocky Island from Seaton Sluice beach, a Watercolor by Norman Tween

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Rocky Island from Seaton by Norman Tween

Rocky Island from Seaton Sluice beach autumn 07. Sitting on an old WW2 tank trap to daub this colour sketch.

This “sketch” has perfect tone and is reminds me of Van Gogh is the construction of the buildings and the layers of the landscape itself. The distant figures are Pissaro-like tiny sketches. It’s a beautiful scene which has more in it, a glimpse of art itself.

Rubidium, “Periodic Table of Poetry” poem by Chicago poet Janet Kuypers

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Rubidium

Janet Kuypers

from the “Periodic Table of Poetry” series (#37, Rb)
(based on the poem “Burning Building”)
10/2/13, finished 10/3/13

You tell me you want to be the hand
that pulls me from the burning building,
but you caused that fire.
They try to put it out with water,
but you turn it into hydrogen gas.
You give everything more heat,
and the fire only expands.

So every time I try to be rescued
you turn your back,
you claim you have more work to do.

So I will rescue myself this time again,
and I will wonder if I should stop trying
and allow myself to perish in the flames.
Now all I have to do is sit and wait
for another disaster to consume me.

I’ll wait for you to do your work.
Sitting and waiting is exactly what I’ll do.

You fascinate me with your fireworks, you think,
oh, what a pretty purple color. She’ll like that.
But I was never that fond of that color,
and I hate the damage you can cause.

When things get hot, it seems you melt
just above my own body temperature.
How can I survive with you like this?

My love for you is the deepest red, but
why do you tell me one thing and do another?
You really charge me when we’re together, but
why do you run away when I need you most?

I’m stepping over the wooden beams now,
and the flames are all around me. Here, look
at the blood dripping from my arms. Here,
smell my flesh burning. This is what you do.

You have been so volatile recently, that you
seem to react to everything I ever do, even
if it’s in an effort to save us. So, let me burn.

Can’t it be easier for me to just perish? I try and try,
and every time at the last minute, my figure
steps over the the charred remains and saves me.

If only you wouldn’t create the burning.
Is only you would exist for more than destruction,
even if it was only for purple fireworks, or
conducting electricity, or cooling lasers,
giving power to batteries, or outer space energy.

But I’m afraid to be with you anymore,
because you’ll even spontaneously ignite
in the air. I know our past, I know I can
absorb you into me, But I only know now
that you serve no purpose for me.

So after all this time, I only wonder if I could
ever feel safe with you, even just once.