poem: Good Medicine

poem: Good Medicine

A Chapter by Marie Anzalone
"

your home, my home, everyone's home

"

 

 

What this place needs is more observations of the intimate life of fire ants

and diving water beetles. More blackburnian warblers singing in early

spring maple themed orgiastic festivals, more canonizing of non-Catholic living

saints, more tall tales and giants to slay and baobab trees to hang the slain

carcasses from. More solo trips across Jupiter's moon's surface in search

of the one that left you high and dry with a raging hardon and nowhere to

turn when July's humidity reached its breaking point. more humilty. More

seven deadly sins. Especially Greed. But especially Lust. Perhaps more lust

than greed, even- your grandma recounting her nocturnal adventures with

Burt Reynolds in the French Riviera; how you were certain that girl in 7th

grade was your soul mate and you chased her into magical realms only

to come face to face with a real living and breathing goddess and discovered

that you are really meant to be a god not a suburbanite not a garden gnome.

 

 

This place would benefit from more biography of the haphazardly insane,

trivia of the ones who peer into humanity from the world's great stages,

tributes to driving grating infuriating perfect obsession; mockery of the vast

mediocrity of twaddle and schlock and sophomorically earnest but unearned

unlived untested Love of Him, all wrapped like straight jackets around our

most precocious and bright youngsters' burgeoning identities. This place needs a

regimen of one-eyed Swedish swashbucklers armed with rapiers and foreign

accents to immediately muster with wit and derring-do against the threat of

invasion by pestilent hordes of vampires and werewolves and Hallmark stores.

More dear God in heaven who the Hell is boiling pickled cabbage in here AGAIN?

 

 

This place needs a kiddie table where everyone starts out and a select few

graduate to the big person's table where they had better damn well mind their

manners knowing they can be kicked back for any measurable amount of inane

sycophantery or any of 18 identifiable offenses styled in nincompoopery, and

that table would totally rock if it were presided over by a heavy handed matriarch

wearing owl glasses and purple robes and a big old flopping high-faluting fire-engine

red honking hat. Definitely needs more gossip from a backwoods Pennsylvania

front porch neighborhood watch brigade complete with a cooler of ice cold Pabst

a fan and a porch swing. This place needs more mockingbirds serenading day

into her predictable close and welcoming nightfall into his unpredictable strains

of crepuscular space where foxes' wails echo like sirens of old in evening's soft flame.

 

 

This place needs more decorated war heroes laughing about getting thwarted by

little brothers in their attempts to lose their virginity in hay barns and basement

couches. This place needs to step aside in wonder and let its princesses take the

hand of her fellow prince, and waltz in awe-filled recognition even if it is just for

one round, one night, or one season's tune, remembering that sometimes make-

believe is for grown-ups as much as for star-crossed adolescents, and magic is magic

and we should never be afraid of letting it in, we should be afraid of letting it slip

out unnoticed before the spell's casting could be realized. Virtual affairs made real

and real ones trivialized by sleight of hand and smoke screens while lovers carouse

on hot savannah afternoons with grapes and honey and pacifiers. More celebrating

out loud when a wanted baby is made, no matter what the circumstances; more

compassion when failure of technology or boundaries or human judgment creates

one that is not. This place needs more kvetching over real and imagined ailments

by stodgy old curmudgeons or just my own Aunt Marilyn to sit in pronouncement for

a day. This place needs more veterans' spouses and families telling their story- on

both sides. More Andy Warhol sharing an ice cream with Moby on second floor balconies

while the bellhops scramble to drain the dishwater in time. For what? We forgot.

 

 

We wait for John Wayne to admit that none of it was real, you all just wanted it to

be. For Armenia to say yes it was real and there to be a collective moment of world

silence. For our little girls to safely say, daddy, I want to study the lives of fire ants

and blackburnian warblers and make the world's best ice cream and meet my princess

and dance under the moon with her. This place needs to recognize that it by the grace

of our charlatans and broken ones and misfits and and honest madmen and watercolor

artists that we grow and thrive and break out of mediocrity. This place should open

reserves for kung-fu pandas and trial lawyers and men wounded forever by the One

who never loved them enough; for the skittish and the bold, the observant and the

always-abandonded. Children need to pet dragons and be allowed in sick-rooms and

know they are never alone in this deception of a life. We need to spend brooding time

walking across moors in search of the life-giving blue flowered hallucinatory plants

that awaken us to the Prophet's Madmen. This place needs more jazz dives and kids

playing in the spray of fire hydrants and whale song researchers and truth commissions

and divine recipes whipped up by foul-mouthed Brooklyn working class Italian babes

demanding to know what your fookin' problem is. A handsome Latino man showing up

at the door at 4 am with a rose between his teeth. An infinite dose of authenticity.

 

This place needs a whopping share of what the Cree called, simply, Good Medicine.

 

 

 

 




© 2015 Marie Anzalone



Author's Note

Marie Anzalone
today, for: Chris, Christian, Vesa, Jeff, Lynne, Emily, Jorge, Chris, Ken, Emma, dana, Kylan, Craig, Jill, Patrick, Marc, Mary, CJ, Peter, Phibby, Mark, Rick, Linda, Christy, Yos, Mike, Shmoke, and Ed.

tomorrow, there will be probably be more. ;-)

My Review

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Featured Review

Marie, I'm not even at the kiddie table. Perhaps I'm in the back room, the basement or that crawlspace in the attic. I've not been truly read here since 2007 - but I consider myself a fixture. Perhaps I am roaches in the wall....I actually have UNREAD posts here. But that is my lamentation and maybe it doesn't even belong in a review.
There are real writers here - I know a few and I seek them out. I concur we need more. I love the way the thoughts just spill together as though you were twirling under a late summer sky, fat raindrops splashing at your bare feet and a song bubbling up from your heart.
There was a time I wrote a story - and a few at the cafe read and enjoyed - and I published the thing. Then real life happened - stops and starts and horror and now I'm back but this poem - it eats at my soul and reminds me I am lonely - I want to sip tea with these writers.... I do
This was a wild river of a poem - beautiful, deep...all the things it should be

Posted 4 Years Ago


3 of 3 people found this review constructive.

Marie Anzalone

4 Years Ago

Thanks so much, WC, for deleting the rest of my comment there. Much obliged. What I was going to add.. read more
TL Boehm

4 Years Ago

yup. we need a spanks free table. Can I I say that? I mean the undergarment....ok, and no spanking e.. read more
Marie Anzalone

4 Years Ago

Let it all hang out, TL. No one will spank you for it... unless you want them to. :-)



Reviews

Wow crrraaaazzy! Run on sentences and many thoughts crammed into one paragraph, hard to know where one thought starts and another one ends. And yet I somehow agree with it all. I came to this one because of the title, and like how you end it even if it does mention the Cree and not the Navajo. :P

Posted 4 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Marie Anzalone

4 Years Ago

Thanks, OB! I have heard the term used as a Navajo, Sioux, Cree, Ojibway, and I think Cherokee term,.. read more
OBWhiteHawk

4 Years Ago

Yes I think it is a general traditional Native term and belief. We visit the Medicine Man when out o.. read more
And the priest who loved his best friends sister said amen and got married at the court bourse this afternoon screaming: glory, glory, hallelujah in the highest, we are free at last, thank god almighty, free at last." This is good medicine indeed with some truly brilliant lines. You have got a very cool spoken word vibe going I. Here. I just read this Out loud to my dog in my living room and the birds in the locust trees. These lines are some of my favorites: "to come face to face with a real living and breathing goddess and discovered
that you are really meant to be a god not a suburbanite not a garden gnome." That is awesome!


Posted 4 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Marie Anzalone

4 Years Ago

And they did feast upon the breakfast cereals and the antelopes, and then they asked Jesus, "You're .. read more
the pancake, needs a egg, needs Pet milk, flour, butter or bacon grease, or / and, then thump thurlp, of a spoon,mixing it as the bowl spins in your hands, a hot cast iron skillet, to raise the acne bubbles just so,then a spatulas quick flip.... ahh a taste, this needs sugar and Vanilla, or honey , Black Desert Honey, to keep me....yes more, please may I have some more ?

Posted 4 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Marie Anzalone

4 Years Ago

Come to my table anytime, Lee, I serve up a mean batch of buttermilk pancakes with wild blueberry sy.. read more
lee von cleef

4 Years Ago

Yes and thank you in advance...
Marie Anzalone

4 Years Ago

you are quite welcome
[send message][befriend] Subscribe
4$H
Unique :O
But lovely :)

Posted 4 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Marie Anzalone

4 Years Ago

hmmm... someone showed me a fork once, with the tines all bent in varying degrees of crookedness and.. read more
4$H

4 Years Ago

It actually is :)
One gets bored by reading the same stuff over and over again
Marie Anzalone

4 Years Ago

agreed! I know I sure do!
Who do you recommend reading?

Posted 4 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Marie Anzalone

4 Years Ago

Hard to tell indiviudal tastes form a few exchanges, but I will proudly share some of the ones whose.. read more
this is one to read aloud marie. i know a good poem when i find myself needing to read it out loud and hear it. the way it rolls within the varying cadence of the words and the sing-song rhythm of a thoughtful and descriptive wish list. very well done. will have to file this one away to read every now and again.

Posted 4 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Marie Anzalone

4 Years Ago

many thanks, CHL. While you are at it, you can help Leica and BRS in suggesting items for a version .. read more
This is not a poem you want to pick apart but instead allow it to just reverberate, so much good stuff going on in here. And I agree with Em this is huge, broad but detailed with intricate nuances and then bam, some real straight talk. And though you illuminate some serious subject matter it is rife with beautiful, funny nostalgic imagery. I see Dana has already dropped by, and I would imagine this was something he could appreciate. If it's even possible, I have a feeling this might be one of those pieces that gets better and better with every reading.

Creatively, you are in a good place.

Posted 4 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Tree

4 Years Ago

Yeah, I caught that right away. Clever. Creative...
Tree

3 Years Ago

Marie came in for another read, and I was right. It did get better with time. Good medicine, this pl.. read more
Marie Anzalone

3 Years Ago

will definitely consider your suggestion, my friend :-)
Marie, I'm not even at the kiddie table. Perhaps I'm in the back room, the basement or that crawlspace in the attic. I've not been truly read here since 2007 - but I consider myself a fixture. Perhaps I am roaches in the wall....I actually have UNREAD posts here. But that is my lamentation and maybe it doesn't even belong in a review.
There are real writers here - I know a few and I seek them out. I concur we need more. I love the way the thoughts just spill together as though you were twirling under a late summer sky, fat raindrops splashing at your bare feet and a song bubbling up from your heart.
There was a time I wrote a story - and a few at the cafe read and enjoyed - and I published the thing. Then real life happened - stops and starts and horror and now I'm back but this poem - it eats at my soul and reminds me I am lonely - I want to sip tea with these writers.... I do
This was a wild river of a poem - beautiful, deep...all the things it should be

Posted 4 Years Ago


3 of 3 people found this review constructive.

Marie Anzalone

4 Years Ago

Thanks so much, WC, for deleting the rest of my comment there. Much obliged. What I was going to add.. read more
TL Boehm

4 Years Ago

yup. we need a spanks free table. Can I I say that? I mean the undergarment....ok, and no spanking e.. read more
Marie Anzalone

4 Years Ago

Let it all hang out, TL. No one will spank you for it... unless you want them to. :-)

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Added on June 3, 2013
Last Updated on April 26, 2015
Tags: survival humor, resilience, community, sharing, humility, laughter, wonder, joy, sorrow, authenticity

Non-utilitarian Living


Author

Marie Anzalone
Marie Anzalone

Xela, Quetzaltenango, Guatemala



About
Bilingual poet, essayist, novelist, and technical writer working in Central America. "A poet's work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, .. more..

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