Category Archives: Un-Haiku-th

Stirred Crazy…

dreaming of drinking
in noisy locations
with people surrounding me
a thousand new faces a day
strangers grounding me
bodies covered in sweat
as we move to a beat
being pounded out
at volumes our
voices can’t compete with
a favorite past-time of mine
this tribal activity
this dancing.

seeing but not seeing
faces uncertain in
shifting shadows
and strobe flashes
only one thing dominating
the act of mating movement to music
rhythm to writhing
soul to sweat
i can’t forget it yet
the yearning
for the feel of muscles burning
from hours of endless
frenzied whirling.

with the breath
of a crowd
bringing death
to the dance
is there even
the slightest chance
we will ever again see
the sticky drink covered
dance floors
and the cover-charged
roped off doors
of my youth open to
the sweat covered lovers of
of hip hop and house?

will our children know the
dubious thrill of raising the roof
with their hands on their drinks
at all times and their ID’s
in their bras because they
still don’t make club
clothes for women
with pockets?
Or will the idea of sweating
so close to so many strangers
always feel like too much danger
and sharing that much air
alway carry the risk
of too much death
from the chance
of sharing too much breath
with too many people
you just don’t know?

which way will it go?

the club life
had pitfalls of
roofies and date rapes
unwanted gropings
along with DUI’s and
those sad over-dosings.
It wasn’t a scene
for those without armor
or someone to teach them
to watch out for charmers
or to stomp someone’s arches
“by accident” if needed.
it wasn’t a place for a lamb.
but it taught you to lose inhibition
to let go of the need for perfection
to give in to the feel of the music
and just be part of something wild and primal
and yes, at times, explicit.

It would be a shame if we were the last to know it.

—- mmorehead 02-20-2021

Poetic bliss…

Poetry and I have a long standing relationship.

When I was a child I spent hours writing poems in journals, sometimes I would even put them to music. Somewhere in my rambling house is a series of journals filled to the brim with the least discerning poetry ever written. Some of it is good, I remember, but most of it is the kind of stuff that makes one think of Sweet Valley High novels.

Then I took a break from poetry. I learned technical wordsmithing and stepped away from the comforting world of creative writing.

Then I discovered Haiku Fridays, right here on this blog, in 2006. I spent a lot of time writing Haiku while my kids played at my feet.

Lately the poetry has been flowing again, demanding attention by waking me up in the middle of the night with fully formed verses demanding a paper and pen.

I’ve given in.

As of the first week of February I am taking a hiatus from the gallery and spending a year collaborating with a sister spoonie on a book of poetry.

To begin the journey I have been honored to have some of my work shared by the Southern Plains Land Trust. You can view it here:

You should also keep your eye out for some of those Haiku I was talking up. I created a series of Valentines ecards for a February fundraising campaign.

Stay safe loves.


a little bit,
a cunning dance,
not quite a gamble,
yet still a chance.

an awesome deal,
if you find the place,
maybe a steal,
if you win the race.

you gave your thanks
for what you’ve got,
now find a treasure!
you’ve got a shot!

how about this thing
you’ve never needed
it’s half price now
it’s even beaded.

with all the things
we seem to own
our need for crap
has grown and grown.

we buy ugly sweaters
that are made that way!
to wear them once
then throw away.

we turn up our nose
if the gifts we get
aren’t new and shiny
or don’t rack up debt.

while all the while
there are hidden gems
of home and style
discarded for whims.

the thrift store pros
know the secret grace
of discovering treasures
and finding them a place.

heirloom crystal discards
glitter and gleam in rows
some forgotten grandma’s silver
simply waiting for a bow.

the things we drop
in thrift stores bins
we hope absolve us
of our greedy sins.

it’s shameful to think
we buy so much
it’s almost like shopping
is a national crutch.

m.morehead 12/01/2020