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"Small Mutinies"



So what if my point of view
is not that which wraps 
you in comfortably warm
fluffed-up silky 
cashmere blankets 
of insecure insincerity
simple scribbles 
bleating from the 
chirping crickets 
and frog croaking
symphonies 
muddying waters
cutting pristine lines 
of thought
gunpowder glorious 
lit fuses 
and temporary trip wires
while woolly wolves watch 
all the corralled sheep 
controlled hearts let loose
out the gates 
running and waddling
through life 
honking and cackling like 
Beatrix Potter's geese
short and long small tall stories
stretched and pinned like butterflies
wings up against a wall
painting life in abstract
suspended and held up by
teasing tweety birds 
on teflon canary swings
crying, sufferin' succotash
I tawt I taw a puddy tat
he loves me 
she loves me not
like lottery 
pulling numbers 
out of a hat
small mutinies 
6 under 
pushing up daisies
we are all 
numbered days
forget-me-nots
still in school
tangled up
in our complexities
and chalk theories
don and damsel 
tight and tort 
dégât erased eventually
ash to ash 
dust to dust 
essence charcoal written
love notes 
air waves 
sounds, music mathematics 
a new language
violin strings haunting
our bodies casual
we are sentenced 
causal conjunctions
time counts 
its numbers
its true power
days 
hours 
seconds
who here dares 
strip the wild flowers
of all their pretty petals
boils them in hot water 
slow steeped and torturous 
swiftly swallowing gossip 
spilling tea unromantically
blowing their loud loquacious 
clown hooting golden trumpets 
wet and turned on, 
like electric light switches,
shocked, they stick to each other 
like glue, gloating self gratification
ingratiatingly without form
knowledge, wisdom, 
substance, grace
killing 
unknown Jonah bellied whales 
with their barbed wire nets while
whispering fragile dandelions 
into their black holed abyss
pushing troll armies uphill
covered in their odorous 
brown satisfaction
thinking they are 
pulchritudinous

some mysterious 
scribes, poets 
burning tired 
worn scripts,
are writing new
prescriptions for
the blue falling feathers 
from tsundoku tarot towers;
they are quill-swimming 
in deeper oceans
with sharks circling,
fins and teeth waving
their respect and 
utter devotions
jaws holding firmly 
thrashing sharp
agape love
love Agape
opening wide 
the minefield
minds
catching pearls

small mutinies
leave the pristine 
chlorinated 
swimming pools 
and diving boards;
for the safety fools,
risk is a medicine 
best not taken 

lifeguards 
holding binoculars 
sit in their lonely high seats
bibbed and strapped in,
perched like kookaburras
upon their stable sures
they watch the bloodied waters
transforming love letters lost
with new souls 
and smiling,
appreciate 
the emerging 
embryonic 
glistening 
super powers

the new teachers
arisen 
from different baptismal 
lightening and thunder clap
evolving intelligence
simply scribble 
on the  next 
whiteboard,
like evangelists,
Munch shout 

we are all back 
in school again
not out

unscrabbling life’s game
scrabbled meanings 
seeking purpose in the
symbols sealing words 
old yet new 
etched on higher ceilings

what you are afraid of
is your greatest strength

new teeth chewing 
the ceiling’s broken glass
Agape love
love agape

kill your darlings
take life 
full and naked
by the reigns
riding confidently 
directing a different story 
sitting astride 
what you thought
was the apocalypse 
dissolves into 
a new and better path
our lives eclipse

the mongers 
mouths open 
fish hooked 
voiceless lips 
on the drawing board
written and red bleeding
are scaled back to bone
gutted become 
soup for the soul
stewed and brewed 
they stop 
ancient goats and ghouls
terraforming gaols

they are still standing 
on the shoreline 
stuck on the watermark

small fish 
still minnows 
back floating 
looking at the ceiling
in blue sky school

words inadequate 

“Who makes the rules?”

(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
Halloween










sufferin' succotash
A common gag used for both Sylvester and Daffy is a tendency to go on a long rant, complaining about a subject and then ending it by saying "Sakes". Sylvester's trademark exclamation is "Sufferin' succotash!", which is said to be a minced oath of "Suffering Savior".
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