Poetry Blog by Randy Horton
It seemed you never put down your club
With the handle wrapped in cloth tape.
You patrolled the hallways, playground, and athletic fields
Like a sadistic southern sheriff overseeing slaves.
You thought “abuse of authority” was your job description
As you terrorised children with the constant threat of violence.
Each look, each word, each step you deemed unacceptable
Was met wi...
Tuesday 14th August 2018 8:38 pm
In the Halls of Knowledge
The Great Men shared their wisdom
With emperors, kings, monarchs, and generals.
Great women shared their insights and guidance, too,
But their words are stored in different wings of the Great Hall.
It was the Great Men who laid the foundations
For civilisation, for democracy, for tyranny,
Architectural planning, sewage, and war.
It was the Great Me...
Monday 23rd July 2018 4:48 pm
They say we carry the dead with us,
And most are surprised by the weight.
We hoist them up on our shoulders,
And imagine our strength is adequate.
But invariably we fault and stumble.
We stagger and trip and fall
We can’t see a way out of this trouble
Each partition becomes a wailing wall
We drop them in the middle of our marriage.
We trip over them when we try...
Thursday 12th July 2018 12:15 pm
I am hosting an online open mic using Zoom.us conferencing software beginning at 7 pm (UK time) on 1 July 2018. We will use Zoom.us teleconferencing software (meeting ID 260-756-986) and take turns reading our poems out as you would in a physical open mic. With luck, we will have a few poets from Britain and a few from the US as well. If people join from other countries, that is even better, but t...
Wednesday 27th June 2018 2:16 pm
In 1981 Eve Libertine punched me in the head
The monotony of matrimony is calamity
Binding binary boxes are worse than death
She fucked the patriarchy with eloquent temerity
Women aren’t possessions and men aren’t protectors`
Love as a transaction is a stifling contract,
Together we can all be our own liberators.
Radically free in the face of existential facts.
Tuesday 26th June 2018 7:30 pm
I don’t want to drive engagement.
I don’t need your gratuitous clicks.
I won’t beg for attention with
Pics of kittens sleeping with chicks.
I don’t need your engagement.
I won’t ask if you’ve used a skate key.
I don’t need any silly test to
Know you are as old as me.
I don’t really care how you engage.
I won’t tempt you with an opinion poll.
No one really ca...
Tuesday 19th June 2018 2:21 pm
I live six hours in the future,
Relative to family and other loved ones.
I wake each morning to news of the world
As the Atlantic Ocean shields them
From dreadful awareness a bit longer.
I know the missiles are airborne,
The tsunami approaches,
The revolution has kicked off,
Or just that the avocado yield was low.
I’m fighting the urge to scream,
To call, to...
Wednesday 6th June 2018 4:28 pm
I found a picture of you in my arms,
Sleeping securely, safe from harm,
As you knew it, anyway.
Your trust for me was complete,
You wanted for nothing
And thought of my love only
As often as a bird thinks of sky.
You didn’t yet know people
Can go away or even die.
I know how things changed,
But I can’t bear to think of it.
I picture you now, with your love
Thursday 31st May 2018 3:43 pm
At an unprogrammed Quaker meeting
The spirit moved someone
To remind us to find our Joy.
After, a friend said she would
Find joy in a nice boy toy.
Or maybe it was a toy boy.
She said one is a boy
You’d like as a toy
And the other is something
A boy would like to play with.
We giggled at that,
And I was reminded of a joke
About a party where everyone...
Friday 25th May 2018 6:05 pm
While mourning his daughter Tullia, Cicero took to writing a book of self-consolation. Thinking himself the inventor of this type of self-help, he said, “Why, I have done what no one has done before, tried to console myself by writing a book.” (This is quoted by Han Baltussen in the Nov. 2009 issue of Mortality in an essay titled, “A grief observed: Cicero on remembering Tullia.”)
I certainly d...
Wednesday 23rd May 2018 10:27 am
I was an adult before I realized that barbed wire is not called Bob War, because that was how my grandfather pronounced it, and he happened to be the person who mentioned it to me most often, as he was the person who would always tell us kids that we needed to help repair the fence. Some concerned neighbour would call to tell him some of the cows were out, and he’d tell us to grab some Bob War and...
Monday 21st May 2018 8:19 pm
I'm putting together a poetry trail for the New Mills Festival. The festival begins 14 September and runs for three weeks. Poem will appear in shop windows throughout the town. We will have a round-robin poetry reading for participants on 26 September 2018 at The Butterfly House at the Torrs. The deadline for submissions is the end of May, but I'm accepting poems as I go, so it is best to get them...
Thursday 5th April 2018 10:46 am
Monday 5th February 2018 11:32 am
Okay, listen up, y’all.
I spent Christmas in England,
And this is what I saw.
They got something called a Christmas Pudding
I don’t know why--it ain’t got no pudding in it at all.
It’s just a big fruity mess
Rotting in fat and alcohol.
First they take dried fruit, sugar, and peelings,
Mix it with some flour, spices, eggs, and brandy,
Add some stuff I can’t remember,
Monday 18th December 2017 11:11 am
When teaching Descartes, I dutifully described his dualism in detail.
I discussed his importance as the father of modernism,
But also his common ground with scholasticism.
Together we examined the ways he attempted to prove God
And the reliability of both mathematics and his own senses.
Also, some biographical information including his early education,
Military service, tra...
Tuesday 17th October 2017 1:33 pm
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