Thursday, July 27, 2017

Sunflowers Survive Poem

Sunflowers Survive Poem

hide in plain sight 
a cloak field
saves masked 
young under wing
in dumb
places on doorsteps
where evil enters
coming / going
straight feng shui 
fuck roosters don't
crow in tongues
nor I
hens ate 
ten thousand 
 sunflower seeds 
planted in 
rows but in 
the end 
blooms came 
and spent
cluck and poke
the broody ones
are kind
those that survive
jealous x girlfriends 
peck the life
and you have
seeds for 
next season
sweet peas -
birds don't
the young
we're not 
crazy people
that toss
shoes for
scorpions we
hide them in 
pairs neat in
plain sight
but step
with care.

Caroline Gerardo © copyright end of July 2017
all rights for poetry and images of my
garden held on penalty of your 
baby chicks under your wing on
Van Gogh doorsteps

sunflowers gone to seed

sunflowers in field



field of sunflowers 

Wednesday, July 26, 2017

President Banned

President Bans Hydrangeas

In the days before market open
Sign reads: no concealed weapon
contrite citizens show blowgun?

In the times of great freedom
Bleeding bouquet of reason
man/woman cross dress Eden?

Sensitive flower requires shade
Rollers grant body not remade
 God planted seeds as unafraid.

A man extinguishes cultivars
Sour dictators poison livers
in tainted tweeted vodka wars.

Ban the President

Caroline Gerardo copyright 7/26/2017 © poem and images

News re: Kristin Beck /  banning transgender persons from military 

Sunday, July 23, 2017

Condemned Bridge Poem

Condemn Bridge 
Murder feral cats, 
drop them overboard
return to haunt. 

Thousand Sierra
Mountain prisoners,
burned feet hike
back home to taunt.

Ripe Persimmon
Marie lays beds,
not potato chips
twelve years of want.

Gauze Tahara
Magic endings,
not fairy tales
death after baptismal font.

Copyright poem and images © Caroline Gerardo 7/23/2017

Tuesday, July 18, 2017

Take Care

Take care
good morning
I'm fine
bull we say

All good
a nice day
I'm fine
bull we say

          God bless
          zipper undone?
          I'm fine
          bloody nose

          Look  heart
          Touch hands
          hug long

Copyright Poem and images Caroline Gerardo 2017

Take Poet to Work

Call me I'll go to work with you
or share anything you ask
Wednesday July 19th
Take your Poet to Work Day

Oh my

Saturday, July 8, 2017

Heat Crashes Planes Poem

Heat crashes planes
happiness memory
Sister's wedding in backyard
nuptial, all present responsible.

Fog hides wrinkles
happiness memory
Son rides Christmas bike
down the road no trike.

Wind steals petals
happiness memory
Swim team relay win
vomit from the exertion.

 Storm fells trees
happiness memory
She poops on toilet
grainy no diaper smile.

Heat crashes planes

poem and images copyright Caroline Gerardo July 8, 2017

Monday, July 3, 2017

Kill Bill Church Road Trip

Road trip to the Kill Bill Church.
We loaded the car with cameras, a vegan picnic and water. Double check the coolant it's 100 degrees this morning in Lancaster. The owner has a website, tripadvisor, local bloggers post the address and there's a google page for the location which is no longer an active "church." 

What we didn't know is the owner has the website to get film companies to rent. There's a hostile element with locals who suffered in the 2008 downturn and abandoned property is vandalized, graffiti'ed, bones picked and sometimes burned to the ground for sport. There's a reason why houses out among Joshua Trees have bars on the windows - locals see visitors as roving  tranchulas.

A wildfire scarred and took a number of Joshua trees along the road. The black against blue sky and white heat is an eerie greeting to rural Lancaster. 

This abandoned garage across the street has an open door. It's an example of what happens when people leave a building. The windows are stolen. Old glazing is sought after for greenhouses in wetter, richer counties.

On the road was this adobe house. It stands open to the desert
I'm glad you read down this far because now here's the story. 

The Kill Bill Church has numerous No Trespassing signs. There's a wire and posts that remove to allow the frontage to appear empty when staging photographs but up as barrier to prevent visitors from parking close. The owner parks a open frame junk truck in front to block photographers. There are signs about no photography. When we arrive, we respectfully park down the street, not in front of houses and walk back in the heat across the street. We're interested in the garage directly across the street. Three people: two men and a woman are on the porch, inside the no trespassing signs. They are taking cell phone images and shouting. The woman messes with one of the posters tacked on the stucco. She's tugging on the paper to take as souvenir.
The building has motion detectors and cameras. Suddenly an old silver Mercedes speeds to the side of the building forming a dust devil.
A man jumps out and begins yelling at them to "get outta here, can't you read the signs?" 

The three some stand their ground with hands son hips. The behemoth black guy charges forward to the Mercedes guy, while the smaller man pulls out a 22 behind his back. Bravery comes from crowd numbers and a loaded gun.

Daughter and I run for our car, leaving a tripod across the street. Once in our vehicle, we watch the drama of small figures a block away unfold. I don't have any bars for cell service. This is the desert outside of Lancaster.
"If I call 911 will it go?" I ask.
"Leave it alone a minute, Mom."

The threesome backs down. They get into their Mazda and slowly drive south, honking and finally away from our viewpoint. We sit and wait. 

The Mercedes guy goes into the church. He's inspects, to see if they broke in.

We wait longer, while the tripod sits in front of the garage in the sun. I realize that on the ground also is a camera bag with film. I tell daughter, I'm turning the car around but she is to wait in the driver's seat and start beeping the horn if anything happens.

Knowing the Mercedes guy is inside and angry, I quietly walk back to pick up the tripod. A car passes. Wind blows as it slows in front to stop and take a picture of the #KillBillChurch as they say on Instagram. 

I fold the legs of the tripod. It makes a clicking sound; but no, it's the Mercedes guy with metal in his hands across the street. 

"Sir, we weren't with those people."

"You have to pay $500.00 to take pictures."

"I don't have that kind of money, I'm sorry." I bow my head and step backwards with the tripod in hands.

"I apologize those people weren't kind, but I don't know them."

He says nothing, turns his back to me. I grab the film bag and hustle, acting calm to the car.

Once inside the air conditioning I sigh. It's tough to live in the desert.

We drive on in silence and drink our bottled water.

Caroline Gerardo Copyright  © 7/3/2017 All rights reserved