Faces are getting longer,
despite the rosy, wind-scrubbed cheeks
a dripping daylight has lost its flavor.
Tepid Malls un-freeze the warm-blooded,
except for the usual geese in the parking lot
who’ve lost all willpower to migrate.
Murky puddles block-up public restrooms,
clog rumors of any first flush
of coming Spring.
We are patient but twitchy,
fat fog-addled puffer jackets
steam on hallway hooks.
These testing times
demand more attention,
which makes for knitted brows
and longer faces
as heretofore to
mentioned.
IF YOU PULL A LONG FACE : Part XVI
IF you pull a long limp face
Long as a mile of lies made of clay
Little the wonder no kind of praise
Can pull you out of utter dismay
Then if you pulled that long clay face
Right round the block up your driveway
Complain not how your face you deface
Your driveway's not a public pathway
Now if you pull that long haughty face
No matter how hard you worked to stay
On top of the world's profit-trade chase
Stache not losses onto the company's outlay
For if you pull that long uppity face
Walk you must the plank on Judgement Day
Blindfolded waist and wrists bound in disgrace
Ev'ry dog has its day since yes crime does pay
So if you must pull that panicky long face
No chauffered limousine to pave your way
Corporate tax cuts do political parties brace
High tit for tat makes for democratic sway
© T. Wignesan - Paris, January 12, 2019
Relax;
Rather block up the ass;
Gather the Self and watch;
Let me talk my mind,
Cus’ I don’t mind,
I’m really mine!
Jesus came, and was thirsty,
And even died at thirty;
Never couldn’t buy a bugatti,
But is hailed, even at the pulpit!
You know, he’s got the truth;
This is the only proof
That he is not a woof
To bring out any woo!
Are you ready to boo?
And make a choice and choose
What could be in the little books?
Just jump out and get the shoes,
Let’s check out and get it through
The Storm of the Martians
Of the Peaking Pikin Serials!
… Just Google this; try
Prancing Poems & Poetry.
NOBEL PRIZE WINNER?
Nasal, sand paper gritty voice.
Why did he win the poetry Nobel?
“The answer my friend” may be
“blowin’ in the wind.”
What were the Swedes thinking
when they voted, what were they on?.
Probably sat around
saying
“everybody must get stoned.”
Some probably opposed the vote
How could it be unanimous?
The yeas said “don’t stand in the
doorway, don’t block up the hall.”
The chair tried to contact this
great man of counterculture
poetry. No response. The notice
on his website taken down.
Surly, snarling, reclusive.
His thought might have been
“Go away from my window……
I’m not the one you need.”
Will he come to Stockholm?
Will he stay hidden?
Perhaps we should ask
Quinn the mighty Eskimo.