Since 2004 there had been a steady increase in search traffic for “Porn” and a corresponding decline in search query’s for “Poetry.” What does it mean… Oh come on you know what it means, it means less people give a crap about Poetry or Flash Fiction.

Of course it could mean people are more sophisticated and know where the poetry is, so they don’t resort to such broad one word searches as “Poetry.’ It can also mean people are so flushed with heat that searching for a boring term like porn meets their carnal needs nicely.

Somehow artists and writers need to do a better job of extolling the inherent heat within Poetry, the life giving and expanding power within a Flash Fiction piece and the melting of your inhibitions brought on by an art showing on a Wednesday evening. sound the trumpet, spit-out the alternatives that life and art offer.

Porn may sometimes be art and Poetry may sometimes be porn but surely a decline in the reading of Poetry, Flash Fiction and the viewing or Art is always porn in its nastiest sense.

Bus stop in the rain

you walked away

splashed by a car

won’t call again

shoes wet

don’t understand

missed bus

love lost

umbrella bounces

downtown alone

heartache heartache

a cool number in my head

snap snap snap

Carole King wafting across the quad

sun shinning on our bodies, reaching up

I touch sky blue cotton dress with

spaghetti straps, compelling anorexic

dancers creating permanent jealousy

binge infused with cheerleaders,

wondering could they possibly, like you.

Grass between toes, classes for the toads

reefer madness swirling puffing circle

hula hoops around your waist, waste

around my brain, wine draining into dirt,

Candies stained burgundy fly through the

air, I lick grapes alcohol jam drying upon

bare ankles calves looking at you, looking

up your pale blue cotton spaghetti strapped

dress, wondering If you belong to me…

Tull crests a wave, your lungs suck my air

I don’t care, your on top for all to see, blond

hair obscuring my face, tongues exchanging

spit hips craving hips. Students teachers rush

away, friends form circle mandala shielding us.

Permission to explode quad style public display,

hundreds gather keeping authorities away, you

And I melt into bliss, getting away for just this day.

a bit of flash and a bit of poetry… entitled

Oh Come On!

What’da mean what am I saying
I don’t need no sing song rhythm to get past the wax
You understood me when I said your fat
So slow to get out the door, always stopping to breathe
You know what I mean, you know what I mean
Stop the show I want to get off, stop the car I want to get out
Stop the fucking planet so you can get your lazy self off
Off to another galaxy where whining will seem new
Off to merge with the difference you crave and whine so much about
Gotta be new, gotta be hip, gotta be now sister, gotta be right now.
Ain’t no time to be bored, gotta be floored, gotta be seen.
Who I am, I’m the man you got walking behind you picking it all up
Ain’t no time for sugar, Ain’t no time just gotta be you gotta be seen
Gotta be new, Gotta be hip, gotta be now sister, gotta be right now