Shaken 'n' Stirred

Unchecked creativity is shaken (not stirred.)
Collected six feet above hell in a bubble hem,
far beyond oatmeal…far beyond mud…
hardly daring to breathe she finds good food.
Organic rains cotton tangerines.  Floral fleece
screams at strangers, “You can’t tell a jack from a king!”
Shaken not stirred, she follows the script.
Luxe wool reaches over a slightly 60’s flap cap
Run the unguardable diamonds;
your hand isn’t strong enough.
You don’t know jack?  You don’t know junk mail?
You wouldn’t (zig zag) cut it today.
Chunky supreme, non-stop passion
irks her like heel-clicking wrestlers.
For a German missile moment
we all float with zero distractions
(with her) shaken not stirred.

I know every poet is in love with their own words but these words were merely selected and rearranged by moi, adding a ‘you’ or changing a verb tense where I saw fit!  I had too much fun simply circling words from 2 magazines and 2 newspaper sections to see what I could make of it!  I am digging this fresh & imaginative way to use language.  Why not suspend your critical censor and need for logical development and try a cut-up poem yourself?  It’s the secret language of your unconscious…ooooohh


Shaken Not Stirred (A Cut-Up Poem)

4 thoughts on “Shaken Not Stirred (A Cut-Up Poem)

  1. Sounds like fun! Thanks for the continued inspiration, Angie. 🙂 BTW, your commentary at the bottom reminded me of a line I recently came across in a book by Anne Lamott which stated: “Your unconscious can’t work when you are breathing down its neck.” Perhaps this activity would provide a little space between the writer’s pen and her own inner depths, so to speak.

    Have a great weekend!

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