Poet's Korner

"Walking is the thing"
is one thing that I can say
and mean. What a joy.

Walk without ear buds
within linden routes below
high clouds and return.

Walk up a hill some
times to leap at the top, heave
a full-body sigh.

Walk, and wake up first
thing, are things I know to be
reasons I say "whew."

--P. Michael Watson

Poet's Korner

"Production Instance"

I need some water
but not right away
I have to pee
but not all that bad

I'm an avid walker
with a lust for knowledge

I like to say "huh"
at surprises I pass
I can wait for some water
I can hold out to pee

I was filled with rage so I went on a walk and made this unplanned poem as I walked and now I feel better, calm, in-control.

--Patrick M. Watson

Poet's Korner

"Wednesday, 4:54 PM"

I don't want to be an architect!
I don't want to be anything
I'm not anything and that's fine
I don't know what anything is
I don't know! I don't know!
All I know is I'm happy sometimes
All I know is I'm hungry

Feel better now?
Yeah, actually. A little.

--Fig Nugent

Poet's Korner

“The devil was running to save lives“

Run to the goose
if the goose is your god

Run and make heed
if the goose is your god

Run through the goose

run and make heed

We may yet know
we know fatty liver
to live and be liver

Waste is a meaning
to live and be liver

A company wails
that’ll do
that will do

A company wails
that’ll do

that will do

--Chris Peebles

Poet's Korner

“Ode to Clonazepam and Earl Grey”
By Patrick M. Watson

When anxiety clutches at my chest
and panic’s close at hand
Clonazepam and Earl Grey
are here to see me through

When the world is a terror realm
with perils 'round each turn
Clonazepam and Earl Grey
are with me every step

When mind’s unmoored in fogs of fear
and I’m just ‘bout to believe it
One mill and a half and a good strong cup
return me to my self

When I'm in my body
and not my thoughts
Clonazepam tugs me back
and I, with aid of Earl Grey,
alight gently on the ground

I cannot say my gratitude
for all the peace, ebullience,
and every sigh of ease
As the world flows through
and out of me — hooray for pills and tea!

O my dear clonazepam
and dear sweet Earl Grey
Thank you for your faithfulness
and helping me be me


Disclaimer: This Ode is not intended to glamorize or promote the consumption of clonazepam and Earl Grey tea. It is merely a celebration of this specific mixture of substances that serves as a particularly effective and invigorating anti-anxiety remedy for the specific psychology and body chemistry of the poet.

Poet's Korner

“You can’t take my hat off — it’s more expensive than you think”

Memories born

of trampoline dusting

Trounces all wishing

too born to say nothing

Rumbles a catheter

rumbles a trough

Rumbling transceivers

to all thoughtful troughs

Fall into solitude

fall and give less

Rancor the wheels

to be free believers

Cavernous me

cavernous now

Take stock of the cavern

take stock and ask now

Memory’s bourn

too born to be born

--Chris Peebles

Poet's Korner

“At least I’ll get my washing done”

I have soap if you need it
so stop and take steps
Look forward and forward
stop and take steps

I haven’t a haven’t
I haven’t a clause
I have less than nothing
I’m more than pulled taut

Stop and take steps
stand forward and wretched
Just stop and take steps
I have soap — please believe it

--Chris Peebles

Poet's Korner

"The Next Phase"

Phase through phase
through all sorts of matter
We come to a clearing
the spool of silence

I take it to you
like a have-to be honest
I lie with the masons
I lie with a stranger

From helping to helping
we thank them for dinner

And after it stops
it's starting and stops

Phrasing the key
each step small and certain
Phrasing each key
the edge too far-flung now

To be on the steps
the steps we're so certain

Face to face

through all sort of matter

--Chris Peebles

Poet's Korner

Found poetry, 7/9/18, tavern readerboard, W. Main St., Boise, ID:

     PASTRAM
          SAN          ISH
                      YEP

Poet's Korner

“Extracts from Google search 'l.3222' executed by Bob Peebles, 27 May 2018”
By Chris Peebles

L322
HPCS Code for Mens
shoes hightop depth
HPCS Code L32
Orthopedic footwear
hightop depth
inlay each

3-2 2-2
L Handles, Industrial L
Handles SPEP
322 SPEP offers
custom-made
professionals shop our product
order your handles today

The French treatise
on founded
flight, flying
of a dove
floor, flour
meal, powder
L3-22 flourish

Annual Statement Navigation
Board of Trade 1908
Notice of Judgment
Food and Drugs
Administration
Drugs, See Ferro
China bitters
See bitters

Fish canned L3-2
L3-2 dried haddock
CONCRETE BRICK AND BLOCK
L3-22 ASBESTOS PRODUCTS

Poet's Korner

a declaration
sometimes woud i but hollow out a home
in the snow
the light waning
burnin throu stiff cold limbs of limbs ..

the bark that is cold to my touhc
reading words from outside in
the cold stills the confuision

-Lost Teeth

Poet's Korner

"The Elusive Beneficence Of The Quantum Riddle"

If there's one thing I've learned
about living in America
it's all PR you have to
take your life into your hands
just to get basic necessities
meritocracy
is a lie
Star Trek: The Next Generation
is a good show

--Buck Ducey

Poet's Korner

Nearly a month with nary a post. Have we been negligent in our duties? Or was the deficit intentional? Yea, the absence of kreation may yet be kreation itself. Think on this as you read the following poem. You may be just as well to read nothing at all.


"Abstaining from Lobster Thermidor sliders in a hideous mirrored-glass tower"

Have a point of view
             
                life can be FUN!

take a risk
make a strong decision

gravitate towards that--

                             and there!
                             and those!

                                    --which give you JOY!

You want to be a detective?

     COOL!

maybe you already are

You like games?
remember to play each day

               try on a point of view
               it may
                         suit
                               YOU.

--Greg Purt                

Poet's Korner

I am a good person

I binge on snackable content

I donate to many great businesses

Why am I sick all the time?

Why does nothing work?

Why am I so sad?

 --Greg Purt

Poet's Korner

The following is the latest from Chris Peebles. You might say it's his much-anticipated return to form since we kalled him out (or, "kalled him in," if you will) this past May on his white-picket-fence nonsense.  It turns out publicly shaming your peers really can change their hearts and minds. House:

"Shit From An Old Notes App"

The order requires you to make an order
                                      to use your material
     it's an order
sort of a derivative affair
            a derivative
                                situation

like the sound
                         airtight
     logic
                   unimpeachable, unassailable
                                                 unbelievable

alienation interactions
                  in built environments

constitutes subject to assumptions predicated

               the iconic crusade
               the cult of science Götterdämmerung
               the psyche is palimpsest
               the cheese stands alone
the creative set excoriates
                                     a container for all experience

so buy it for a song
name your guitar band Pinner Blinn
              or Peterson Dunlap
   
       pattern your persona after Parson Paterson
                   
                    syntax is straight-ahead rock
                                            as needed, ad nauseam
                                            as needed, ad nauseam
              hew to a yen for a yeoman's service
              find the misery sweet spot
                      or be re-
                                       accommodated

a banner year for the breezeway
    to trot out the culinary glitter
the muffin medium rare
          my cross to bury
the pool house REM or humble table corn

                    the cabal cajoles
                    this baby kills fascists
                                enrobed, enraptured
                                enrobed, enraptured
                                         the war chest dislodged

Things can be easier now!

                                    but I don't think
          anything's so
                                 simple...

You sounded just like me.
I closed my eyes and thought I was in the room.
       
--Chris Peebles

Poet's Korner

"Questionable Grooming Practices"

Will the groomer ever be groomed?

The groomer ought to be groomed

Groomer will not be groomed

Groomer grooms but will not be groomed

Groomer gets groomed

Groomer becomes the groomed

Who grooms the groomers?

The groom?

--Fig Nugent

Poet's Korner

Today we bring you the latest from Chris Peebles and, to be frank, he’s testing our capacity for empathy with this one. It all started last summer when our money boat was struck and sold for scrap, forcing The Kreation Korner staff and kontributors to pursue more conventional forms of gainful employment. Since then, Peebles was hired on as a nonperishables buyer for Tsar Mart and became a father. As the following poem suggests, these life-changing events have precipitated a full embrace on his part of the middle-class lifestyle in all its predictable, humdrum glory. While it’s not our place to judge and certainly not our place to police the expression of our kontributors, we feel it’s important to at least point out that Chris’s “domestic trip,” though he has every right to pursue it, can have negative consequences for our movement as it perpetuates the sort of suburban banality an originalist interpretation of the Kreationist Manifesto tells us to fight against. It’s troubling that one of the sturdiest pillars of Kreationism could be so seduced by such un-kreative fantasy, but we do acknowledge that a person can assume multiple personae all at once, sometimes harmonizing, sometimes clashing, in the ever-unfolding ballet of human experience. We're confronted with the reality that there are no easy answers--we’ll give Chris credit for that much at this point. We’re still unpacking this, and it will take time to arrive at a final ruling, if any. If you wish to consider a fully-formed opinion at this time, stay tuned after the poem for a short review by budding kreation kritic Schuyler Graves. Proceed with caution:

“Content of Contentment”

I’ve found stability in my life
The Dove of Balance snatched up my strife
Vanished into the majestic sky
Make sense of life? I no longer try

I’m now at ease with life’s contradictions
I calmly surmount all its frictions
Not anxious nor angry, self-destructive nor mean
I’ve found comfort and joy in consistent routine

--Chris Peebles

Chris Peebles the archetypical family man, pictured September 2016 smoking the traditional tobacco product of new fatherhood and engaging with a popular brand of canned fizzy water. He's probably out there grilling or something.

Review: “Content of Contentment”/Chris Peebles/2017 
To say Chris Peebles new poem for The Kreation Korner is confounding is an understatement among understatements. “Content of Contentment” is a full-on head-scratcher  Though the composition is short and sweet for the snapchat age, its sentimentality and naïveté could fill vast volumes. Is this THE Chris Peebles, The Korner’s franchise player, Boise’s legendary street poet laureate reduced to silly rhymes and embarrassing metaphors (“Dove of Balance” deserves its own level on the cringe scale)? After wincing my way through the two cloying quatrains, I seriously questioned Peebles' credibility. Have we been duped? Has he been just another over-represented over-hyped mediocre white male artist all along? 

That's what I thought at first. 

Then I realized I’d been played like Dig Dug. If we’ve learned to expect anything about Peebles it’s that he’ll invariably subvert our expectations. And subvert he has! But he employs a device far more sophisticated and enduring than the garden-variety irony used to elicit a passing guffaw (although an overtone of that signature self-awareness is of course present). It’s possible that Chris is being completely sincere, and, if so, should we not applaud him for daring to make himself vulnerable in this lingering postmodern nightmare in which the pressures to drape oneself in the veils of cleverness and coolness are so great? Are we the readers, Peebles ultimately asks of us, ready to incorporate sincerity meaningfully into our lives as a healthy counterweight to our cynicism? Congratulations, Chris, on a landmark addition to the Kreative Kanon. I’m not ashamed to admit that at least some small part of me now wishes the Dove of Balance would swoop down and snatch my strife away. 
--Schuyler Graves

Poet's Korner

on my daily stroll I remained
detached but made keen aesthetic
observations of the pulsating
urban ecosystem          then I went
to the country and was
struck suddenly and violently
by a stark epiphany
of spiritual immediacy

--Flâneur O'Connor

Poet's Korner

In the following piece, though purportedly an exercise in poetics, Korner kontributor Fig Nugent deals in the hermeneutic qualities of language in a starkly direct way. We're unclear if his source of dismay is the American experiment, The Kreation Korner itself, some other apparatus, or all of the above. In any case, although we aspire to be a purely egalitarian and communal enterprise, we acknowledge that we currently operate as a limited hierarchy out of necessity in our reality. In light of that, we welcome opportunities to check in with ourselves and make sure we're not straying too far off the path of righteousness. We strongly encourage all those in positions of power the world over to solicit and take to heart input from your thoughtful, knowledgable, creative subordinates, especially when making decisions that affect their livelihoods and happiness. Take seriously:

"Sadly, The Only Outlets I See Are For Electrical Power And Discount Dungarees"
By Fig Nugent

I need an outlet
I have given a great deal
to this organization, this
agency, this institution
I have compromised much
and retained few, mostly
superficial, remnants of
my individuality and convictions

I have done this willingly
I have chosen to not cling
unwaveringly to doctrine
for practical purposes, for
comfort and stability, for
psychological and emotional ease
I have accepted such concessions
as necessary to survive, as
compulsory in my circumstances

But I have moments of exhaustion
in the ceaseless morass
of ethical gray areas
I'm often disillusioned by decisions
made to serve the politics of
the moment rather than reasoned
long-term core values and vision

I tell myself this is just what life
is and employ petty, ephemeral
acts of rebellion only I really notice
to restore order for my
psyche in the meantime
I commiserate with likeminded
peers but those in power
seem ignorant and indifferent

I'm told implicitly and sometimes
explicitly to be happy, to be
grateful, that this is just
a job, to get along but
I can't shake the feeling
that's just some insidious means
to silence dissent, to compromise
what remaining shreds of
ideals I have

I can "toe the line" most days,
shake off of the sneaking
feelings of anxiety and guilt
But lately the weight is persistent
I can't laugh it off or shrug or move
on but there's no chance for catharsis,
no suggestion box, no arena for debate,
no outlet to be heard out, no quarter
for whistleblowers who demand one

The atmosphere is one of imposed
consensus, of forced harmony, of
"business as usual"
And so I trudge on with a heavy
burden on my conscience in this
organization, this agency, this
institution, hoping, probably
in vain, for one measly, hell,
even a token outlet

Poet's Korner

Found poetry, 3-DEC-2016, approx. 17:20, thrift store readerboard, W State Str, Boise, Ida:

                                         COME       CHECK

                                            OUT       OUR

                                            FURNITURE