Four poems written, recited, copyrighted by me.
www.facebook.com/christinehallisapoet
photo by Ray Wendy Pictures

On our date

At the zoo
with your mom
and the kids
wasn't it fun and
sexy, with all the
animals, and all the
times I got sad that
you weren't paying
attention to me
Because I am jealous
of the binoculars like 
I am jealous of
your pillow


The Wedding

Your boxers around 
your ankles and my dress 
above my tits we celebrate our 
night without the kids

at your second cousin’s wedding
the colors were turquoise and red
these kids are too young to marry
the divorcees and wiseasses protest

the service, proper Baptist
tears and laughter aplenty
the reception void of liquor and dancing
but, conveniently adjacent to the highway

the bride and groom dallied
and our bellies got to grumbling
we complimented Day-Glo dresses 
and criticized the neon punch

these children have grown so much
they’ll soon be having children
but our kids are at Grandma’s
and we never did grow up

We joked about possible
delays to the newlyweds’ arrival
I guessed maybe they stopped
to make it really official

You and me and our
booty dancing couldn’t wait
or hold back or care less when we
return to drinks that are warm and flat


Fartface

There are some things
I don't want to face
like sometimes I don't
like how his mouth tastes
or it's too wet
or too wide
it's swallowing me
too quickly
I turn aside
do not want to face
this do not want
to waste this
what do I want, then?
what is my yes?
Hawaii, Kauai
farming and
skinny dipping
If I can't save
the world I
suppose it's time
to start thinking
about saving myself
I know somehow
these things are linked
that I can only
do my part and
here is where I start
some lady stabbed her
boyfriend after he
farted in her face
during an argument
that's the headline
but actually he
threw the knife first
here is where we
start, we both
take turns starting it
and when we really
get going we both feel
finished, excuse
me if we don't
part with a kiss 
the taste of this 
chanting, unenchanting
the saliva thick
and sticky, the mouth
open too wide
the forthcoming
apology, sickening
lurches everything
to a halt
all my processes
That's the second
time you've said
it first, I'm sorry
to keep track, and
I'm not, love can't
be justified, but
it must be just
taken on the whole
no one moment
can make or break it
everyone gets a second
chance with a second
set of specs
Promises can be broken
even when sealed by
honest lips
when no promise is
made one can still
be expected and
one's heart of course
is still broken
open. There, my
heart has molted
Come give me a kiss.


Packing

You're here
I begin my opus
hoping it's a magnum
my need for sleep
is displaced by a
need to writhe
the movement that put
Green Day on Broadway
and studs on cardigans
beseeches Iggy Pop
if you're going to brandish
your flagpole should you
not also trim the hedges?
The quarterback and I
sat on the high school steps
and bantered flirtatiously
about hashish, I pretended
to know what he was
talking about, so did he
Then I led him to the
boys' room, said I want
to fuck you, he heard
I want to suck you, instead
and I wrote in pen next to
his shot put measurement
two and a half inches, hoping his 
girlfriend would recognize the truth 
about his purported magnum
Hoping irks me, makes me writhe
but you're here and you
don't confuse my want to fuck
for a want to suck nor try
to magnify your flagpole
by trimming the hedges
the movement that put
Green Day on Broadway
and studs on fucking cardigans
inspired me to see, personally
the most radical choice is
growing my hair its natural
color and trimming it only
when I feel like it even
if I risk looking like a
mommy and you can't tell
my politics just by looking
until I suggest an abruption
your bottom better consider
the implications of letting
any man in a Trojan
claim he plays it safe
he carries a magnum
without formal training
or permit, therefore I bet on
the dark ones, trust snakes
to bite as nature says
and me to hone my senses
purple hair felt natural in
high school, this is my
Trojan suit if you trust
appearances, I fantasize about
mouthfucking blondes with big tits
blasting cum through the back of
their skulls, or imagine sending
orgasmic starlight and love to the
oceans and masses of trees and
animals, some human, my idea
of magnum may not be yours
but don't trust the package
we are the test subjects
You're here, we writhe awake
each to put in our opus

Opus

WXNA FM’s JMAR interviews Lydia Yousief and Christine Hall of Arts Equity Nashville, Sept 14, 2024

WXNA Weekend Stroll JMAR interviews Arts Equity Nashville

Practice read for A Night of Free Speech: Open Mic Spoken Word, hosted by DNR Publishing at Cafe Coco, February 20, 2013 (image by Ross Smith)

CocoRead3

My favorite cover of Woodstock (Joni Mitchell), by Jim Weiss from his 1980s Anthology album (converted by Ross Smith from an original audio cassette recording made by the artist before his passing).

Woodstock

Mrgodcock

Screens

A comely brunette in a scene of distress
mangled limbs and tattered flesh
warriors and heroes tend, these two men
who probably saved her life
her family is looking for them
these two monster children of Chechnya
the police are looking for one of them
his big brother is already dead
the story takes pains to reason
we should not assume their
radicalization had anything to do
with them being Chechen, according
to the source, and by extension
framing the question, did their time
in Kazakhstan, or Boston
a boxing website quotes the dead one
he didn't have any American friends
didn't understand them
nor do we understand them
finger them as scum from
war torn lands and inbred rebellion
now we will remember them 
the men who helped, the family and friends
who want to thank them
and those who did the violence
persons of interest fingered by the police
the media's fingers around their necks
everyone's just doing their jobs
the mob's job is to rally behind
a common cause, my son the young warrior
fixates on heroics but yearns for daily acts
of kindness, his reaction, it's sad that
it takes a disaster to get people out
there to help, they may volunteer selectively
but where's the rally for this cumulative
tragedy of war upon war upon prejudice
upon poverty upon hatred of fellow man
rape and abuse of our land and women
my friend who lives in Boston is really
trying not to panic, her son chats
with the neighbors about acts of terrorism
sons and brothers these terrorists, their
father says "angel" and "studying medicine"
the toughest pill is compassion for them 
and the monsters who stalk their thoughts, 
dreams, memories, they're not worth it
it's asserted, they're human garbage and 
look at this mess of mangled limbs and 
tattered flesh we let manifest our reactions
the immature hero, mired in ego
awaits a reaction, the warrior steps up
to meet his quest, serve and
protect, he's run on for a long time
and actions have consequence
cause and effect may be interwoven
destinies intertwined, or not.
A beckon to evolve or rot, reckon
these images will resolve if not
stopped, photographs revert to
color-coded maps of mangled limbs and
tattered flesh in one man's imagination
a call to act, as another man's
will to react forestalls contact

Screens

Battle of the brands (Part 1)

Amanda Berry
went missing April 24th, 2003
after calling her sister to say she was getting a ride home
from Burger King
where she worked
until a day before her 17th birthday
Gina DeJesus didn't come home from school April 2nd, 2004. She was 14. It was a Friday.
Michelle Knight, who is now over 30, vanished August 23rd, 2002. Last seen at her cousin's house, she had 

recently lost custody of her son, but her mother was certain she wouldn't disappear without calling on 

occasion.
The neighbor, Charles Ramsey, had just returned home from McDonald's on his day off and was naturally doing 

nothing when he heard a girl screaming. He went outside and proceeded to help Amanda exit the house next door 

and call 911. 
Mr. Ramsey comments, "I barbecue with this dude. We eat ribs and whatnot and listen to salsa music. You see 

where I'm coming from?...
Because how he is is -I- he just comes out to his backyard, plays with the dogs, tinker with his cars and 

motorcycles, goes back in the house. So he's somebodys you look and you look away because he's not doing nothin 

but the, the average stuff. You see what I'm sayin? Ain't nothin exciting about him. Well, until today. Ha, ha, 

ha. Heh. 
Bro, I knew somethin was wrong when a little pretty white girl ran into a black man's arms. Somethin is wrong 

here. Dead giveaway. Dead giveaway. Dead giveaway!
Because either she homeless or she got problems, that's the only reason why she runnin to a black man."
The police reportedly arrested a 52-year-old Hispanic man, Ariel Castro, at McDonald's. He drove a blue Mazda 

Miata. I prefer the word Latino, and wonder if he cares what a gringa ever thought.

Christine Hall 9