L.K. Thayer has her finger on the trigger…of poetry that is...
As a multi-faceted woman of many talents including acting, photography and literature, she is so driven by art in all its precious forms, it seeps through her photogenic pores.
Always an inspiration, Thayer knows poetry, art and photography when she sees it…though it is often in the many details others are not brave enough to voice or simply overlook. This aspect of her craft creates a certain mystery and intensity to her perspective. Fittingly, L.K.’s poetry and photography go hand and hand, her photography is poetic and her poetry paints a picture.
With a photographic eye she is always hot to the touch, pulsating with creativity, grit and a hunger for artistic expression in every aspect of life. Add to this poet a love for honesty, instinct and vision, and her work is an equation to be calculated… Thayer finds poetry even in the bubble gum stuck to her stiletto heel…to her, words are both fierce weapons and rare jewels…
Flagellation Mambo
I felt like bubblegum was stuck to my brain
waxing and waning like the moon on a coffee break.
I’d had several shots of volcanic acid to ease my equilibrium.
The slander beneath my magic carpet
came to a halt at the bedpost. My inner lining
was forcing me to come clean. My conscience
was haunting my iridescence. It was coming down
to the upswing of my hoop skirt and how well
I could balance on the tightrope of my hemline.
My bruises were oozing come-hither stares
as I led the parade of my masquerade.
Behind the veil of my Cheshire cat grin
of teeth baring shame, I revealed my
ruffled agenda.
I had nine lives to live, was on the seventh
flight of fancy, on an elevator stuck
on the sixth floor.
Round and round and round I went, leaving
baskets of candy on May Day, wishing it
were Halloween, anything but
my fucking birthday.
The cupcakes were lined up, fifty candles
burning my flesh and ravaging my smoky ravine.
I was teetering on scandal and parody.
I had painted myself into a corner,
doing the self-mocking flagellation mambo,
in a brand spanking new pair of shoes,
leaving footprints for someone
to find me.
A grifter, a pioneer of sadistic synopsis
and cynicism challenged my varicose veins.
Eye popping, butter-finger burlesque, was all
I could rely on, that and a ‘65 Ford Galaxie 500,
with a bad paint job and a crocheted afghan,
hiding my ripped interior.
My heart raced with frenetic frenzy
and “why don’t you call me?” confusion.
My bottom was somebody else’s top
of the morning.
Humbled by the rocky landscape
and jagged desperation, I fought to
stay above board and ahead of the game.
Through the maze of Carney’s
and Bearded Ladies, Snake Charmers
and Starbuck’s Frappacinos, I was caught
holding the whip.
My fantasy of living in the lap of perjury
was going against my migraine. I was
sleepwalking and waiting for the day,
when the Moon would switch places with
the Sun, and hoping that somehow,
Mommy and Daddy would just get along.
L.K.Thayer © 2012
Thayer’s poetry is dramatic and moves its magic with a strong undercurrent. It is dark and intense, yet anchored with perspective, sagacity and wisdom. Inspired by Charles Bukowski and Anne Sexton her work bites back with a hard-hitting, observational sway; storytelling at its best and most poignant.
Thayer is not shy, and refreshingly, neither is her poetry…it is emotionally driven despite her obvious bold sensibilities. Her poetry is soon to be published in the collective work, In the Company Of Women: An Anthology Of Wit & Wisdom Sass & Class, including, My Poem Walked Through The Door, a straight forward and bold approach to humility and human compassion. Also included is, As Girlfriends Do, a piece which explores the ups and downs of female interaction, friendship and disappointment. Thayer is a dynamic and welcome addition to this fine anthology, due for publication in February of 2012. Find out more information here: In the Company of Women
Her forthcoming book Whore's Don't Kiss is nostalgic and beams the local color of Hollywood. From Beyond Baroque to The Seventh Veil on Sunset, L.K. Thayer like Mötley Crüe’s Tommy Lee in Girls Girls Girls, never misses a beat. Read more musings by L.K. Thayer below:
I used to live on Sunset & Formosa
in Hollywood
for a few years
I don’t know
it could’ve been longer
it could’ve been shorter
I don’t keep track
of time too well
down the street was and still is
The 7th Veil Strip Joint
back in the day when you saw
10 to 12 hookers on every corner
doing intimate things with men
without getting intimate
I would walk down to my favorite
neighborhood bar
and always play
“Tell It Like It Is” by Aaron Neville
on the jukebox
I’d have my song lyrics on me
have a few drinks
and start singing them
a capella in anyone’s ear
I had the songs
and the songs had me
I wrote them after a break up
after a nervous breakdown
after all, it was better than
empty sex in an alley way
in the back of anywhere
of course, I made sure I fit some of that in too
I miss the ladies on the corner
it gave this town more depth
more soul without the heart
in this town where fame is
the drug of choice
wondering how to get it
how to score it
how to become
a household name
like Ajax or Swiffer or Rice-a-Roni
this town is like a giant melon baller
that keeps scooping out your guts
to make an ambrosia salad
for the masses to snack on
eat it while its
fresh, it gets old fast
and you have to toss it out
like whores turning tricks
for their pimps
we all have to answer to somebody
somebody’s always calling the shots
but you can’t give it all away
you’ve got to keep your cards
close
and they will fuck you
but just remember
whores don’t kiss
L.K. Thayer© 2011when it rains in LA
all the honesty creeps up
it stares you dead in the face
it can’t hide in the blow out
of sunlight
it can’t hide behind
sunglasses or tinted windows
it can’t hide or duck
the on coming blows
the hangover from the night before
has you in a vice
and it squeezes the truth
from the marrow of your pores
and you ask yourself
why am I hear
you feel like damaged goods
like the bruised peaches and pears
you find at the farmers market
bruised by rejection
from everybody but your dog
and your manicurist
and you go to her just to be touched
as she massages your
hands and shoulders
like you wish a lover would
and the rain comes down
on your rotting dreams
washing away all the nonsense
until the sun comes out
and everything looks
like you can believe in it again
like the lies you tell yourself
about how young you look
and you turn around
and next thing you know
you’re having another birthday
and thinking as you blow out the candles
I wish life was piece of cakeL. K. Thayer © 2011
AFRAID OF GETTING WET
My soul is starving for a smidgen of genius, a morsel of magic, a hint of happy dancing huka smoking harlequins. I want to belly dance on the moon, sipping geranium bourbon. I want to hide from everyone so I can be found out. I want to be the one who’s holding. I just want to get a grip and hold on for dear life, I wanna catch re-runs of Gun Smoke and Get Smart and Gidget. I wanna chew chicklets and chase chickens who lay golden eggs. I’ve lost my direction, I know where I wanna go, but I’m in the middle of a cul-de-sac and can’t make a U-turn cause I’m stuck in reverse. I’m in a groove but it’s not groovy enough. I want a deeper groove. A soul kiss from Bozo the clown, I wanna be one of the Marx Brothers and toot my horn, crack jokes and live in innuendo crescendo. I want it to be, where you could have three martini lunches and it was cool to smoke cigarettes, because you felt like a movie star. Lights, camera, action! I want Ozzie and Harriet to be my Mom and Dad. I want a Father Who Knows Best. I wanna fly like the Flying Nun but without the habit. I wanna lose my bad habits and find new addictions. I wanna get a buzz without having to get high. I wanna quit my day job so I can start making a living. I want more bang for my buck. I want credit where credit is due. I wanna be a Solid Gold Dancer with Ruby tap shoes, just so I can tap into something. I want to be Dorothy singing ‘Somewhere Over The Rainbow’. Because…I know it’s in me. I know that’s where I’ll find it. Know, that you are the pot of gold at the end of your rainbow… So let it rain, sunshine, and don’t be afraid of getting wet.
L. K. Thayer © 2012
L.K. Thayer’s work is observational and unique. She is always an entertaining performance whether reading or singing. Her book, Whore’s Don’t Kiss is forthcoming, but you can keep up to date with all her appearances & juicy details on her blog utilizing the following link: The Juice Bar
Read her full BIO here: L.K. Thayer
Read her full interview with Apryl Skies here: Interview with L.K. Thayer
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