Deep sleep viewing
Surreal yet so real.
Running naked,
Looking for cover.
But to no avail,
As no one cares.
Just you and shades of you,
Behind closed lids.
All from your reel of id.
©2015 Karina Pinella
Poetry – haikus, free verse
K. Pinella’s poems
Tickle Me Pink
Like a beetle knocked down on its back,
With its reedy legs fluttering up in the air,
Us drones, minions, working stiffs
Flounder about in our tedious routines–
Crunching numbers, pushing papers,
While the bigwigs think of ways
To stretch our time and pay
So thinly, so third quarter results
Can outperform prior year’s figures.
Tickle us pink, why don’t you?
Better than a pink slip . . . I think?
©2015 Karina Pinella
At the Dump
We haul in our garbage;
Glimpses of our lives revealed.
Empty boxes shipped from Amazon,
Paper bags from Trader Joe’s brimmed
Full of glass, paper, and plastics.
The transfer station makes it easy—
No need to separate the recyclables.
Bring all in one big receptacle.
The bordered grounds contain our mess and stink;
We drive away feeling light and free,
Happy to dump our stench,
Thinking all our trash is gone for good.
But they come back to haunt us,
In ways we connect with other causes.
Next time, let’s pause . . .
Try to limit our toss.
©2015 Karina Pinella
Bruce
Bruce made quite the news
‘Cuz he’s the Jenner gone transgender,
Nothing to do with glamour or glory.
He told the truth on TV.
He’s already in his mid-sixties,
Served time under his self-imposed penalties.
But his message is not just about him,
It’s to shine light on a subject so dim
That so many have suffered much abuse–
Perhaps Bruce’s message will help spread the news:
That you can be yourself without fear or shame,
For underneath we are all the same.
©2015 Karina Pinella
Bus
It’s convenient–easy, breezy,
But mostly wheezy,
Every day I end up running,
Down the hill I go,
Hoping I don’t stub a toe.
Whiz — there the bus goes,
Damn!
Wheezing for nothing.
Karina Pinella 