The M & M Candy Telephone
The M & M Candy Telephone
The device is switched to mute.
Not a sound comes from
the Raisin Bran guys except
for the pre-programmed
visual message on the LCD screen.
When the receiver flashes
instead of ringing
the Venus de Milo deodorant statue
doesn't move an arm
to pick up the handset.
~~~
Alex Nodopaka Feb©2010
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poem by Alex Nodopaka
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Goddess Durga
Goddess Durga
Astride on her tiger
in menstrual throes
She feels she has a
Tiger in her tank
But her retinue trumpets
that he lost his woodies
and that she should club
her Wood
~~~
Alex Nodopaka Mar©2010
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I have a story that’ll
I have a story that’ll
bury Tiger Woods
under 6 feet of sand.
It’s the wishful thinking
of any golfer
to eagle their balls
in Alice’s hole.
But I wonder if anybody
wants their balls
to shrink fast enough
in the time they fly
from the golfing club
to birdie Wonderland.
~~~
Alex Nodopaka Apr©2010
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Deconstruction of transcendence
The concentration
on the idyll to nature
as a wide range of loneliness
seems to nature
as disposition is to scenery and
the discovery of post modernism
thus continuing the individual and
the romantic feeling
of contemporary visual representations.
Loneliness is coupled
with a number of symbolic qualities.
Now that emotions and personal feelings
are linked with a Romantic revaluation of
the representation of Postmodernism
and the discovery it is conjuring,
the pictures form issues
range from the Romantic feeling
to Postmodernism and the discovery of
the message becomes transcendental.
The symbolically charged beauty
of the immediate experience
of motif strands outlining a reawakened
interest in a number of formulations
dealing with the fundamentals of
Romantic representations.
~~~
Alex Nodopaka Nov©2008
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A Lightweight Ode to Ars
A Lightweight Ode to Ars
or A Not So Fauve Muse
Fernand Leger watching me
Bloats my limbs
But when Salvador Dali comes
He makes my edges flow.
And if Pablo Picasso shows up
My face looks
Like it hit the fan.
Of them all I adore most
Marcel Duchamp’s tongue.
He says I taste like
A cubed sashimi roll from
A fauve Rousseau beast.
A the roaring sound
Magritte pops his head out and
All gaga about her says Dada.
~~~
Alex Nodopaka Feb©2009
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Stone Fog
Stone Fog
i think
she is your alter ego
someone you pine for
the dizziness
is your inebriation with her
and may be due
to atmospheric pressure
differentials
she comes and goes
like a fog sculpture
or a De Chirico muse
without a shadow
she's pure fog
with consciousness
and a heart of stone
~~~
Alex Nodopaka Nov©2009
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Ace of Hearts
Ace of Hearts
I ain’t goin’ nowhere
And that frickin’ raven
Ain’t gonna make me write
No Poe poem
Nor this goddam bridge
Ain’t goin’ nowhere either
Not even straddling
Sarah Palin’s arse to Russia
~~~
Alex Nodopaka ©2008
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A mathematical conjecture
A mathematical conjecture
or An ode to Vladimir Tonchev
Is when quasi-symmetric designs
Reach two stage disjunctive testing
Upon subtracting the discrete numbers.
They form systems of sets
And cyclotomy of self orthogonal
Codal length.
Now, I know this means little
For those with a cerebral weakness
For unevenly distributed sets of digits
However, were you faintly acquainted
With algorithms solving for optimal
Difference systems of sets
and line spreads you’d be avoiding
such conflict of codes of length
in finite geometries.
~~~
Alex Nodopaka Jun©2010
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Less than precious Stones
Less than precious Stones
I'm so glad you asked
a brilliant question for which
I have a dull answer.
Brilliance has to do
with shine and
dullness with personality.
Like in dimwitted.
A brilliant can be dulled
which makes it less brilliant.
Yet it doesn’t make it
dimwitted. Like some people
are smart but not intelligent
while others are intelligent
but not smart at all. Like how
I'm trying to answer here.
Let’s bet with your polish
you can hone my answer
better than I can lap it.
~~~
Alex Nodopaka Nov©2009
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The Subject Of Death
The subject of death
or standing at night with a lit candle
under my chin in front of a mirror
prevents my humor
from spilling.
The stanza is romantic.
Makes me queasy.
And it's unfair to play
with silver dimes
when the dead
can see no more
nor have the will
to lift their lids.
Had they the capability
to wink & smoke a lid
I'm certain muteness
would reflect their voice
and their hallucinations
would be Dostoievski's.
~~~
Alex Nodopaka May©2012
poem by Alex Nodopaka
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Love in Rubber Balls
From a seashore wedding
all that’s left at ebb’s tide are
discarded hot air balloons.
Once inflated egos
now in flaccid condoms
are the only ephemeral remnants
of flushed adulation
feeding foreign shores.
Lovers gone,
paramours in search of passion,
only barren lovers’ wishes
fill imaginary baby carriages.
~~~
Alex Nodopaka Sep©2009
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On Iteration & Repetition
On Iteration & Repetition
Thanks thanks thanks for stopping by
& inflating me for a few seconds.
Yes yes to all you say & thanks for
posting your poems as a sidekick.
You see I see we see the problem.
This great entity created repetition
to make us want to be like it
experiencing everything first-hand.
(Actually, iteration is a dead-end
and reincarnation is a dumb eternity)
Give me a break! That infamous He
could’ve done better
than a Rube Goldberg Design.
~~~
Alex Nodopaka ©2003
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I don’t know if God plays ball
I don’t know if God plays ball
soccer or foosball or bacci ball.
Well, I’m a Frenchman and
boules is the name of my game.
Being on the ball is like playing
with Gigi little girls. When God
created Eve I wonder did He
have in mind dirty old men
and did He mean putting man
behind the eight ball
and did He know that eons later
round the corner of the square ball
someone hooks up with
a hooded guy who sells 3.5 grams
of meth and coke and damn,
that 8 ball is already gone!
I wish I had another!
I start singin’ a tune, I don't drink
brass monkey, like to be funky
and my name ain’t Eazy-E
your 8 ball junkie.
We did an eight ball of blow and
danced until next morning.
I ain’t never goin’ out
With an eight-ball Chiquita
Cuz I got balls and I ain’t
givin’ her mine and
she ain’t playin’ with mine.
I wish God had more balls
and my brain marinate
in mothballs.
~~~
Alex Nodopaka Aug©2010
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I Am an American
Even during a crisis...
There will still be those,
Who will need their eyebrows done.
Fresh weaves to pick.
Nails polished.
And scentless deodorant sticks.
There will still be those,
Who need their weekend with the boys,
With computer gadgets and other toys.
The cheating on their wives.
And those three somes enjoyed...
Most likely with guys!
And even dressed to jog...
It doesn't matter how they do it.
They will shop, eat out, rent or buy their movies.
One thing is certain...
Even during a crisis,
Those programmed to ignore it...
Can not be told they can not afford,
The luxury of spending another dollar.
They will look at you as if to say...
'How dare you tell me the way to spend what I don't have?
Whose debt is this?
Whose poor credit am I financing it with?
Whose delusions are these?
I rate myself on a scale of my needs.
THIS is the way I am going to enjoy my suffering!
With or without your approval!
And without a dime in my pocket!
I am an American!
And I will do as I please.
Even if that means giving 'image' to others!
And 'that' is my duty!
To stimulate and delude.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Clowning in the City of Lights
I looked and looked
beyond the deep and the shallow
and connected the dexterity
of my fingers to your brain
Of course you want to know
if I can throw circles
round the Eiffel stake.
And after more looking
I convinced myself life is a circus
and I your smoking puppet
blowing rings
around your Fingers
Yes, YES your Sleight of thOughts
gOt me diZZy and oFF kilter
and I wAnt to be in Paris
a juGGling clOWN just like yOu
~~~
Alex Nodopaka Sep©2009
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Funeral Flowers never Fade
I’d rather remember
the colorful blossoms
surrounding the departed.
I’d rather remember
their character and their scent
not some waxen faces
straight out of the mold.
I’d rather remember the roses
and the reds and the yellows
and the whites and the pinks.
I’d rather forget the thorns
and the pricks and the angst
and the contradictions
between existence and extinction.
I’d rather forget
the pallidness of life
and never watch
funeral flowers fade.
~~~
Alex Nodopaka Sep©2009
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The Handmade Poem
Because I am no poet
this ode shall be sculpted
with handmade paper and malachite
and when the papyrus will fossilize
its lyrics shall be chiseled in 3D.
The drummed hammering
shall be its melody
with the notes cleaved
and for the rustling sound
use the flow of myriad marble dust.
And if the stanzas won’t hum right
they’ll be shattered chipped off
scraped instead of crumpled.
Well, all this visual
and aural circumlocution
is only in my mind because
there’s no more than a soft tap
when the apex of my finger
glides on the keyboard of the PC.
Sigh!
But maybe,
just maybe,
instead of sculpting
I should paint this poem
on handmade paper
in the way of Hiroshige or Mi Fei
who thinned down black ink
suiting it to necessary transparency
distinguishing
the astigmatic background
from the myopic forefront.
And for good measure
I shall sculpt this poem
in French and intersperse it
with a bit of Slav
like here and there
a da and a couple of niet
since most readers would know
those crucial words.
Then I shall sit in a lotus stanza
sigh…
and dedicate this poem
to water lilies
so when the paper
it is written on
is discovered
it will have completely
dissolved
with only stripped letters
floating down the stream
reforming fluid stanzas
worthy of the river’s
amorous curves.
I think it’ll be
a sculpture
gratifying the erotica
between water and clay.
~~~
Alex Nodopaka Aug©2008
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A Contemporary Critique about Art
I'm troubled by the suggestive complexity of
Distinctive formal juxtapositions in this artwork.
Its disjunctive perturbations & eloquence make it
Difficult to consciously enter this chef d’oeuvre in
A manner in which the sublime beauty of the bio-
Morphic forms verge on codifying its agitated con-
Tent finding this creation remarkable in how it
Handles the figurative-narrative line-space matrix
By spatially undermining the visual gesture while
Abstractly activating critical thinking. As an ad-
Vocate of the issue of content, I feel that here at least
The suggestion of spatial relationships endangers the
Disjunctive perturbation of how disrupting it seems
In light of the eloquence of the substructure that
Conceptually activates the spatial relationships of the
Auto-erotic signifier and appears disturbing in light of
How it imperils the artwork from being understood.
Of course, the matter of understanding or not is
Self-subjective as it will not let itself be pigeonholed
Which is solely a psycho-morphic human characteristic.
~~~
Alex Nodopaka Oct©2008
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Adding sound to movies would be like putting lipstick on the Venus de Milo.
quote by Mary Pickford
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Candy-o
Candy-o, I need you
Sunday dress, ruby ring
Candy-o, I need you so
Could you help me in?
Purple hum, assorted cards
Razor lights youll bring
And all to prove youre on the move
And vanishing
Candy-o, I need you so
Candy-o, I need you so
Edge of night, distract yourself
Obstacles dont work
Homogenize
Decentralize
Its just a quirk
Different ways to see you through
All the same in the end
Peculiar star, a-thats who you are
Do you have to win?
Candy-o, I need you so
Candy-o, I need you so
Candy-o, I need you so
(candy-o)
Candy-o, I need you so
(candy-o)
song performed by by Cars
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Last Hello
There was no warm hello from the get go-
I felt the chill of your shoulder...
Over the yawn of the telephone receiver...
It was as fleeting as a wisp of North Wind!
Catching me by surprise-my breath shortened...
A hard cold reality to swallow...
Rebelling at the lump in my throat--
From your gung-ho attitude like Venus and Cupid...
Dancing the Tango under a Harvest Moon...
To a nip in the air 'cross your shoulder;
I knew...
Beyond a shadow...
Of any doubt...
By your yawn echoing...
And your hurried voice---
Your real time scurry to say goodbye...
That this would be--
Our last hello;
September 11,2010
poem by Theodora Onken
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