EPITAPH for ALPHONSE
Neath this stone lies Alphonse Dubois
Funambulist of Avoirdupois
Might have lived a bit longer
Had the rope been stronger
19 April 2019
Categories:
avoirdupois, giggle,
Form: Epitaph
Avoirdupois
The endomorph enjoys our affection
as the comic figure of tradition.
Friar Tuck, Falstaff, and Old Toby
recall rotund revels and ribaldry.
Devils are always portrayed as thin.
the clown invariably has a double chin.
Unlike the hero, who's always victorious,
his wind and walk are somewhat laborious.
Though he's never very heroic,
who honestly ever loved a stoic?
Confronted by his conviviality
cynics think rather jealously:
'It's just that unlike the lean
he's much too slow to be mean.'
Categories:
avoirdupois, england, fun, humorous, jealousy,
Form: Light Verse
Whatsoever Things
Terracotta pots of lacey leaves embrace the morn,
As clustered clouds release their avoirdupois,
To love the earth with lush summer green
And months of perfume of color drenched flowers;
To think on these whatsoever things
In the dawn’s quiet melodic whispers
Restores the heart and soul and with
Life in our lives and we press on.
Categories:
avoirdupois, motivation, perspective,
Form: Free verse
Poured from purloined bottles of poison,
Whose drip is but a crimson crash,
Of whisky washing my lips which moisten,
With a humid dew of drowning cash.
From the pocket pours the absinthe green;
Tourmaline trash tossed atop the torrent,
Which washes over with drunken mondegreen,
Slurred words whispered with neither wish nor warrant.
To drown in glass filled with vicious avoirdupois,
Whose weight is watched by the wrap of a whipping boy,
Is but death by pint and shots of strife,
Sipped away in a sinking sea of life.
Spare me of my liquor lips,
Whose tongue-licked wish is sips,
Of that which drowns me drunk,
As I, the captain, sink in a ship I've sunk.
Categories:
avoirdupois, addiction, death, depression, drink,
Form: Rhyme
The mountain falls into a blur
A swirling vortex of nothing
A carpet lapped up into green
A tiny globe of jungle asphyxiated.
There lurks a mirage cloaked in cellophane
Where they speak with their achtung
And flammen. The innards glow like
Towering amber streetlights
I am always amazed that it never
Melts this landlock into nothing
But a sea within solids. I have
Every convenience nurtured to me, like a womb
I dislike your alien charm but it still
Amuses me that you turn it on like a drum
Machine and waste a day or more.
They do not speak your foul language
Here in the avoirdupois heart of benevolent
Solitude. And as such you make a fine
Black draped missionary out of me. My
Wonderous charity. I become a microphone
Your relentless larynx. I hate it
But not necessarily enough.
I will meet you there in the white vapoured soul
Of a limp black flag. Where I deface
The unspoken with my crude and childish
Scribble. Where I know it by a singular
Mothered and neutered word
Home.
Categories:
avoirdupois,
Form: Free verse