mirror woman, barely fancier than an Amish woman
wearing her bowler hat and her dour look
looking face is similar to Angelina Jolie
like her, I do not choose to smile
my hair is messy; I am buttoned up
Why do the Ghosts wear Clothes—
If Flesh has fled away—
Is Modesty a Habit
That Survives the Grave’s Delay?
Perhaps the Mind remembers
The Shape it used to be—
And wraps itself in Cotton Thought's
For old Identity—
Or maybe Death is bashful—
And veils what it has done—
Lest we should see the Truth too plain
And tremble—then be gone—
If Spirits roam unclothed of Bone
Yet stitched in Former Care,
Then Clothes are but a Memory
The Soul refused—to Bare—
I asked a passing Phantom once—
It neither spoke—nor smiled—
But buttoned up its Silence tight
And drifted—unware—
In 2013 Amélie Ségarra danced on a Grand Piano with knives
taped to the tips of her feet.
The room is empty apart from a single man in a music box
He wears a black an white suit buttoned up to the collars with bronze cufflinks,
To get up she uses an old Woven Rope in brown
You can see her nipples as she looks up, Adam's apple following her gaze
along with everything else.
She starts dancing.
From above the waist her arms jut out, grabbing widely at air and trust
But below it's easy
At times it looks harder to be the piano.
Remember how close she got to the edge.
Rapidly tapping the tips of toes, taped into shoes,
Screwed onto knives.
At times the screech was louder than the music.
Engaging her hips she’d lift up her thigh, bent at the knee
The arch of her foot seeming to just hang there.
Before it drops she makes the sound of a boxer.
Something only rooms with loud figures giving orders to lots of people
doing the same thing in repetition can bring out.
The music has stopped, so now all you hear is knee engaging ankle,
Holding up a foot wrapped in pink ruffled straps.
Smalling down an into
a seemingly endless
Grand Piano.
Snow Angels, Snowpeople, and Evergreen Trees
When winter comes, children know how to have fun.
Laughing and catching snowflakes with their tongues
Or lying flat on their backs with arms flapping up and down
While swinging their legs in and out in unison,
Then carefully standing up to step out of the area
To marvel upon the angel shapes they’ve created.
Or roll sticky snow into balls piled upon each
To form snowpeople with stickily arms and no feet,
And coal chunk eyes and smiling lips, and buttoned-up chests
And old scarves wrapped around their necks,
With carrots for their noses and old, worn-out hats on their heads;
That almost made them look real, so the children nodded and said.
And evergreen trees they love to decorate to the hilt,
With pretty ornaments, hanging icicles, and tinsel strings,
And swirls and twirls of twinkling lights wrapped around the tree
And a star of wonder, shining innocently, adorning the top,
With presents underneath wrapped in colourful tissue paper.
The first one to sleep is the first one to rise, come Christmas morning.
***
Purposefully put together
Piled up piece by piece
Donning my suit of armor
Thought it provided peace
Polished exterior portrayed
That I had it all figured out
Buttoned up from head to toe
Yeah that’s what I’m about
Pay a price to put on a show
As the projecting takes a toll
Time to lay down my shield
To start tuning into my soul
Looking inward can reveal
Kinks in the armor are alright
Using them to our advantage
Since they let in the light
Illuminating what was hidden
Revealing spots that were blind
Done with depicting an image
Choosing to live life by design
Seeing through clear eyes now
Guiding me to let down my guard
Defenses have been dismantled
My heart no longer behind bars
Buttered pancakes, hot cocoa, cinnamon sticks,
Knitted neck shawls, all buttoned up jackets, "Phew,"
Some are ice skating, or skiing, and sledding,
~~"Ohh Little...," is sung,
Fabric weaves hills of ivory silk frosting,
Spilling streams of cream, pouring milk all astir,
Grizzlies, snoring, un-grizzled hibernal eve,
~~day's sun soon freezes,
Night has fallen ... sleep for some while others aren't,
Stars found a place for dangling nighttime twinkles,
Classic moon balm tryst desires, tarries sunrise,
~~hourglass sands sun soon.
Creativity, a style
The gorgeous fashion
Jeans with heels
A Hat to match
Eye-catching
The designer purse
Sunglasses with diamonds.
White buttoned-up blouse
Belt fashioned and designed
Name brand red bottom shoes
The latest news
Jewelry is with many karats
A watch that lasts.
Shopping in many expensive stores
Handbags full of items
Carried by their assistant
As they arrive at their destination.
Communication, accommodation
Many organizations
A Philanthropist
Handed down by generations
With appreciation
Luxurious transportation.
Fashions and Designs
Fine art
Fancy dishes
Very delicious.
Designs are one of a kind
Hand made
Measurable time
Silk, creative
Fashions and Designs.
Suppression ..
cracking open the flesh.
Never suppress the
Feeling of the soul
This inner oppression
Is not just foam
It is a fine thread
You need a needle
To sow close packets of regrets
And mistakes you have buttoned up
Looking through what
You had to do.
Those hole's ..
Have control over you.
Suppression
Stabs and tears you..
Gash you on the inside..
The hole's suppressed
Stitch and heal them
Ditch or seal them
Beat suppression
Defeat it's fierce force
Eliminate repression
Before pieces i become
Don't waste time
It's too precious..
And precious can become ..
Previous.
Previous will become
Sadly.
Sadly such as ..
If I only had ..
Like you had to do.
Suppression
It has expired
it is finished
gone.
Hush hush little heart
No more deal's
Merry merry go round
Lovely lively times ahead.
For as long as I can remember
I played the peacemaker role
Depend on me as the glue guy
As I try to keep things in control
Don't worry I won't rock the boat
Will keep things safe and stable
Neatly buttoned up at all times
Sure let's just go with that fable
Was always wrapping up my worth
In fixing other people's problems
A well devised distraction tactic
To avoid my issues and not solve them
Been shifting the narrative lately
Starting to shine my light internally
Surprised how much was unprocessed
What a relief to delve into discovery
Now it’s time to make a decision
Where will my energy get directed
Continue to subvert what I require
Or step up to my needs that I neglected
Doesn’t mean I cast others aside
Actually the opposite was proved
When I fill up my own cup first
I'm still the glue guy, just new and improved
The Moon knows never to gossip,
keeping secrets close to the heart;
Buttoned up tight whispers don’t slip,
nothing pries what’s sacred apart;
Never one with an aimless dart,
brazen wishes know where he stands;
A loaded plan cannot outsmart
credence the cosmos understands.
Climate changed into just weather.
We watched it happen,
watched the meth-maidens and the hookers
turn pale and ill
Senators secretly paying their motel bills.
Denials fling insults at each other,
It's election fever
and we are fools or establishment tools.
Picking sides is a choice between lies
yet go vote anyhow
you're fully vaccinated now
buttoned-up tight
nothing bad could possibly happen - right?
Is your shirt buttoned up too tight?
Are your pants up in your crotch?
Do you live in your mothers basement?
Do you keep that corduroy jacket with patches on it elbows
back from when you thought you had something original to say?
Do you have tenure in a local community college?
Well then, you might just be an over-educated, low IQ,
poetry critic.
He would try
Hiding it
It shamelessly stood
Right there on the nape
Worse than the
‘Lipstick under the collar’
All buttoned up outside
But alone
In front of the mirror
Fondly running his fingers over it
Smiling to himself
But how times changed......
The purple glow
Started turning
Hideous black
He would now
Try rubbing it away
‘Damn you!
Either leave completely
Or get the lustre back’
It’s very much still there
On his white skin
That purple patch
The constant rubbing
And the cursing
Showing results
Transformation on......
A faint speck now
Getting dimmer
With each passing day
Who knows?
It might one day
Completely disappear
buttoned up tightly
black iris maiden
smoky extrapolation of time
dancing along in rhythm
guarded by black cameo
pierced, not pampered
silent, stoic, revealing nothing
black iris maiden,
resigned to her fate
greeting no one
smoky memories
hazy not helpful
hurt beyond recognition
dragged to doctors
silent, stoic, revealing nothing
A young woman sits alone
silently weeping on the bus
like a flower
prettily wilted
against the windowpane
So he sidles over
in that funny way he has
so British and proper
buttoned up tight
sits next to her, leaning over
and confidingly says
“I’m sittin’ next
to the Most Beautiful
girl in the world!”
No pickup or come-on here
only innocent opinion
stated matter-of-fact
like a little child
“Not like” she mutters
and instantly regrets it
without looking she can feel
the bewildered hurt
upon his face
So they sit in silence
the rest of the ride
side by side
hot shame flowing down her face
calm confusion clouding his
Some time later
he steals her hand
insistently says- “I am!”
And swallowing hard
she squeezes his hand
wordlessly leaving
the Most Beautiful man
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