But why is she knitting a nest? We asked each other.
We knew the old bird was too old to become a mother.
The bird sat quietly with knitting needles clicking away.
She liked it when she confused us on a rainy Tuesday.
It was really a scarf, but she said nest to get us talking.
We are a chattery bunch, and soon were squawking.
Arguments ensued, and hens began pecking each other.
She snickered to herself, and so did rooster, her brother.
Well, y’know,
If it don’t make my tail dance…..
But…but…
If it’s so long
I have to drop my nuts to read it….
Yeah---Yeah
and I hate it when I hafta run back to the tree to look up a word
and those “rhymey” ones
that think “tweet – tweet – tweet”
is a rhyme scheme
OH Yeah, !!!!but those ones – y’know
That sooth the heart
And inflame the mind
Curl the tail
And make me forget
Where I buried my nuts.
Those lines I whisper
In a chattery way
To my honey
As we cuddle
In winter.
OH….THOSE!!!
DAMN…..
AIN’T POETRY A GAS.
Don't You Dare
To heaven are we sent or does God take;
A special machine does He have to make
Which is invisible and we can never see
And always says you must trust in Me.
What you need, God always does give;
Not alone by yourself will you have to live;
God has become my body's battery
Even tough outside it is cold and chattery.
If all of my energy, I were to exert
And my body and bones began to hurt
My true God will always be there
With comfort and compassion He will share.
God, to me, each day does make this proposal;
Every thing I made will be at your disposal;
Not only will I let nature take her course
I will kept the rest of my rules in force.
Through your faith in Me must accept them all
And each time that you stumble, trip and fall
For you, I always will consistently be there,
But to give in to the devil, don't you dare.
[email protected]
My arm is a shooting gallery,
a roadmap of Switzerland in
needlepoint decked grey flesh;
running out of targets fast -
and I need something for my mind.
Haunting rainy streets, opium deprived,
with crusted yellow-black scabs between my toes,
hyper-tolerant to antibiotic therapy,
the infection spreads its wings and grows -
and I need something for my mind.
Scouring Freddy Krueger's domain
for a friend, the man, a score;
convulsed and cold, shuddered with
rhinorhea and no tissues -
and I need something for my mind.
Chasmic yawn, my jaw may dislocate,
chattery teeth spear enamel through my tongue;
a fixer in a fix needing fixing;
damn you, Keith -
and I need something for my mind.
Where's the glamour, immaculately wasted street cred?
Ribs accuse through T-shirt skin;
bones and tendons slither clearly
through almost translucent hands -
and I need something for my mind.
Melt me a candy bar drain cleaner cocktail;
shook with an aftershave chaser;
anything to make me feel better than this;
for better, for worse, maybe death is the trip -
and I need something...anything, really anything
for my mindless, mindless mind.
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