Wednesday, December 21, 2005

Non-Dairy Creamer

Non-Dairy Creamer

Words are spoken
as sharp as spears,
like
knives,
they cut.

We do

what
we are told,

but
for some,

doing is never
ever
enough.

Slitted eyes,
clenched fists,
nostrils
flared in

rage.

Expressions, all.

But for some,
they are
not enough.

Rather
than boil

within

so deeply within,

I must,
I have
no
choice,

I must
release
my
rage.

Before
Sol's rising,

I

and no one else,

I

ground
the beans,

I

filled
the coffee
machine
with aromatic
Kona blend.

To the water,

just a teaspoon's full,
I sought
my
just relief.

A surcease
from
rage.

A few
quick

jerks,

the coffee
now

has cream.

12 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

It's a lovely poem about rage. It speaks volumes about how anger can overpower us. One thing I'm curious about, is the end of the poem. Does releasing cream into the coffee spell the end of your rage?

And what's up with the towel rack in the previous poem? Did you use a towel rack here, too?

December 21, 2005  
Blogger wahhhboohoo said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

December 21, 2005  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Who's Sol?

December 21, 2005  
Blogger In verse said...

ok, good, but you need to tighten it up a bit, the first and the last part is really goof, he middle part needs to be reworked...but what the hell.."balls in flight"

"...like knives they cut" great, I like the simplicity and economy.

more later.

December 21, 2005  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Look: hasn't anyone cottoned on to the fact that this Eugene is pretty damn troubled? The last SEVERAL poems have been about whacking off. Rainer Maria Rilke, he ain't.

December 21, 2005  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I forgot to add that he's whacking off in the office coffee pot. Doesn't that strike you as somewhat deranged?

December 21, 2005  
Blogger Noralil Fores said...

In the stanza about "stilted..." I love the emphasis on minute description and action. The rage separated from its context threw my off. I'm still not sure where the rage derives from, if it derived from anywhere at all.

December 21, 2005  
Blogger Noralil Fores said...

Unless all the rage comes from, as the second stanza suggests, the useless of doing. I feel perhaps that if this is so, I need more context for it. Is this a disgrunted office worker making coffee for some corporate goonies? I mean, I want a sense of character maybe. I don't know.

December 21, 2005  
Blogger Shaunizzle said...

I love going to restaurants and sometimes when people aren't looking, I drink the non-dairy creamer right out of the little plastic cup, I love it, but Angie always tells me to stop doing it. What's wrong with that? I like your poem by the way.

December 21, 2005  
Blogger Eugene said...

Thank you! I love your doggies in helmets!

I did have a stilted, almost jerky thing in mind with the form.

This is about corporate sabotage, but in a non-dairy creamer kind of way, if you catch my drift. It's all boiled rage channeled into a jerky kind of form. I'm sure we've all felt this way.

December 21, 2005  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

It's jerky, all right.

It's jerky so much that it's jerked right off.

December 21, 2005  
Blogger Phil O. Sophia said...

i like it. it's like a grande angry sex latte.

(seriously, i like it.)

December 27, 2005  

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