Best Slobbering Poems

And I witness
Your deplorable “glory”
Hunching over my tattered spine,
So we can have something in common

You walk with glorified shell-shock,
Another sentient tongue, 
Straddling on the Eros of vindication

Your sandpaper hands
Reach for an assaulted tenderness
Embracing lambasted lyric

Another tenor’s proclamation
That their oxidized octaves
Are legitimately sound

…

Nobody is listening.

…

So, you...

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I take firm grasp of the handle
My goal reflected in the steel of the knife,
I put the knife to its green face
Its' checkered skin;

I flex my bicep, grimace with thirst
I remember the day’s troubles, 
The day’s triumphs, And I cut
The blade breaks the rough surface
Shatters...

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We gathered for our thirtieth class reunion at Lydia's Smorgasbord.
I'd avoided such past events since in school I was largely ignored!
But my spouse proclaimed we would attend, thus ending that debate!
The dreaded encounter is expressed in verse below that I will now relate!

A social hour...

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There was pity for one second for the victim in this case,
when 'Hilly', 'Bee' and me were walking to our drinking place.
We were slobbering in thought for what keeps us all afloat, 
then 'Hilly's' eyes flew open wide - "Is that a hundred dollar note!"

A...

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When I’ve gone
to the place
where my fathers’
have gone before me 
and the last tribute
has been paid to my memory,
may my singing words
crack the silence with clanging echoes.

May the clanging echoes
excite starving eyes
and taut wrinkled eardrums—
both to awareness—
guiding them
to actions of liberation
yet to come.

May clanging echoes
wake-up...

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`

I opened the rusted iron gateway
bound in chain and wire, to find a landing
caked in muddied footprints, scattered about like roaches
Magpie shadows course the rain soaked streets
and puddle patterns reflect temptation as light flickers
from second floor moan filled parlors, painted nails scratching

Navigating the fog entrenched...

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Earth trots
Behind the meandering
Leashed by their anxieties
And we in silence
Cannot tell of our perplexities
This age
Is too politically correct
And will not stand
Such truths
There is no lattitude for correction
No urgency
To mend fences
'Fore the frivolous forays of destruction
The seeming acquisition of intellect
Is nothing more than brawn of tongue
Defending...

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Rugby SCRUM* DANCE for Divorced and Dis-abused Wedding Guests

(Packs made up of eight « players » (see note below) may be formed indifferently : either segregate the sexes or mix them up. No sweat ! Only keep children away !)

First Half

Step up
Both parties, now 
Take...

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Something about eastern thunderstorms
All that electric summer heavy heat

The sudden weight of the air when the birds grew quiet and still
The big black slobbering dogs came up onto the porches

While quietly gathering behind the homes and groves of trees
The dark purple grey frowning skies, then...

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Dictionary describes the word “dactylion”
As the tip of your middle finger
So if someone gives you the dactylion
They're giving you a zinger!

Have you ever been subjected to “gargalesis”
It's described as heavy tickling
Love being gargalesis in certain areas
Might even involve some licking

Do you know a word that...

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twasn’t an absence of belief in
hexes or voodoo ****, black magic,
witches or warlocks,
which brought to mind the maddening
of the crickets, for
900 species of those sinister gryllidae 
couldn’t be wrong &
they came anyway---
chirping their nocturnal nonsense &
forcing the writer to rack her brain,
as all she wanted...

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So we took Bonnie the Border Collie to the vet yesterday for a wellness check and to update his shots. While there we discussed Bonnies dominance issues over Crusher the female Doberman, especially when he holds her to the ground by her throat. He explained...

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Still the bone remained....
Pulling on his chain; ever snarling
A tug of war with, her tree as meat loaf 
Became his dreams and gobble said the turkey
Unto her queen bee ? Blue bishops atop pogo sticks a fly
With one big eye siphoning the marrow from time's...

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Going back to see some old friends of mine
Hope I don't start slobbering and spilling my wine
Miss them a big bunch
Will be happy as punch
Hope I don't embarrass myself and say things asinine...

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Surfing her parks hanging out at the johns
Playbook play writes recipricated his southside
Invasion rock their dock in red rag love make-up wardrobe ?
We knew of a bit it was your solo show and she really likes her numbers
Makes the _itch feel somehow secure while their...

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