farmers cut for hay
fields smell so good driving by
as bales are pushed out
Some nights she can write about anything
Her imagination simply takes wing
On other nights, she cannot
~ She’s a poet, not a robot
Sometimes we take a turn with others in the dance club.
It’s fun and friendly but when it’s over - you know it.
He stepped on my foot
and I winced in pain
he’d stepped on my foot
and then he did it again
That's the danger in dancing
a slow dance - being too snug
his hands on your back
and you're pinned like a bug
I should wear combat boots
when cutting a rug
with guys I'm not sure of
I’d finally had enough
The last guy ended our dance
by adding a hug - I don’t know,
a bit extra, but I went with the flow
Why am I sweating in strange men’s arms?
Then again, what exactly is the harm?
The social oddity of public touching,
of course, is that if we weren’t dancing,
would I even stand close to them?
p.s.
If you’re looking for a Summer, French-café coded, it-girl drink to put out your fire of thirst, try a ‘Diabolo menthe,” it’s made of lemon soda plus mint syrup and obviously non-alcoholic. Pair it with a vanilla Madeleine, a petite, shell shaped pastry with a lot of charm. YUM
.
.
A song for this:
I'll Call You Mine by girl in red
August by No Vacation
The music held two shadows in their place.
A stranger bowed with borrowed, polished grace.
“Do you mind if I cut in?” they tap to say—
Before either could answer, one was swept away.
Every interruption leaves some unpaid debts.
When do good manners sharpen into threats?
What does the ego think it gets to own—
A promise, or a hand to what isn't known?
Time cuts the sentence well before its close;
Who grants it leave? — The clock already knows.
Truth rarely knocks; it enters in a cracked seam—
Was chance the guest, or fate dressed as a dream?
Ask the mirror if it envies glass.
Would it become a window to let you pass?
Which side is prison, which side built the view?
And who decides what counts as breaking through?
One day, as you name who you are meant to be,
Eternity may smile, tap tap, and quietly disagree.
"Do you mind if I cut in?" is its whisper ahead—
Who answers then—the living, or the one left unsaid?
WANTED PHOTO OP
MEDIA SAYS NO.
TRUMP IMAGE WE CHOP
He memorized every
movie, scene, and
breath she took,
convinced her on-
screen smile was
meant only for him.
Tonight, the velvet
rope of the premiere
was his to cross, and
the cutting steel in his
pocket would finally
make her his forever.
When the theater
lights dimmed, he
she'd his quiet
restraint and
stepped into her
spotlight.
Avoided
carpenters should
measure twice
cut once
mistakes avoided
we should
hear twice
speak once
misunderstandings avoided
I have witnessed the amazement,
The wonder of mortals I have met.
Made and molded without trappings,
And less likely to be trapped in nets.
They are far less about themselves,
But about others often locked in cells.
Not cells made of brick and steel,
But of blighted souls and broken hearts.
I am inspired by these selfless ones,
And encouraged by their sacrifices.
I am made the better and enriched by such
Who pour out their lives for God and man.
They accuse me of cutting of my cock
Just to wear a frock
And hang about in bogs
When all I want
Is the peace to piss
Or to piss in peace
Just another of their
Disgusting spiels
Designed to turn me extreme
But hate is there language
Not mine I just rhyme
Im happy it’s gone
My meaty schlong
It just hung there all flaccid
It was always so wrong
But it never once said
Get this straight in your head
That off I should go
On the chance
A women to catch
In the stench of the lavs
I mean
Who’s idea was that
What warped mind
Full of hate could create
Such absurdist disgrace
Or maybe they reveal
A piece of them selves
All twisted and dark
So self loathing and reviled
Then push it out on the world
Rather than live with their shame
So as billionaires burn the world to the ground
And presidents and princes
Abuse kids with no charges
Of course they want you focused on me
Cos I’m the real threat
Cos I cut of my cock
Who are we as animals
Herd or family mammals?
Maybe Clockwork Oranges
In the Apple storages?
The Lefts put it clearer
Herd is far superior
The Rights strongly disagree
They stand for a family
For the Middle of the Roaders
We are renters or the owners
Most of the non-party folk
Deem that issue as a joke
As for me, we’re all the same
Under any term or name
Be it herd or family
What we are preferably
Either side can’t cut my tax
So the real sense it lacks.
mother nature's game
sun and more sun make things grow
time to mow the yard
Cut the cords... Let's reclaim our power and our energy. Blessings, Love and Light.
Cut the cords
By Michelle Morris
01/03/2026
Cut the cords
Let them burn
Time to move on
Lessons learned
A new life
Waits for you
Freedom from
Old world views
Rise on high
Watch your glow
You're a phoenix
From fire flow
Everything good
You deserve
Everything possible
Freedom earned
Warrior strength
Reclaim your power
Energy focused
Unfolding flower
Lotus peace
Harmony
Cut the cords
You are free
© Michelle Morris, 2026
I want to pick apart your brain.
Cut it up.
Chew on it.
Consume it.
Digest it.
There’s no reason to be afraid.
It’s simply
–what I do
–who I am:
Brain Surgeon.
Some have better things to do,
before the crack of morn,
than digging for earthworms
in the dew-soaked dawn,
but no not me, you see,
as, the longer I looked
for the creepy-crawlies,
the more I was hooked.
'Why that time of day?', ask you may,
well, as my daily wish, is a tasty breakfast dish,
I had heard, somewhat like the bird,
the early worm catches the fish.
when does a five-year old cut their own bangs?
there are basically three times
one, the day before kindergarten pictures
two, the day they are in a wedding
three, the day they get gum in their bangs
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