Sunny the squirrel fell fast asleep
in the rooftop gutter seam~
curled like a fuzzy comma
in a punctuation dream.
Rain dribbled down beside her,
but Sunny didn’t even stir;
guess gutter-naps are premium
for a sleepy little ball of fur.
Neighbors pointed upward~
“Is that squirrel okay up there?”
But Sunny just snored louder,
like a diva hung midair.
So now the roofline’s famous
for its napping woodland queen,
who claims the gutter nightly
as her five-star lodging wing.
our sadness is deep because of loosing you and having you around was a joy and sometimes our friendship was tempted but from child to youth and then a Dad your temperament was a wild as the storming rage but God found you worthy so good bye our brother may you find so rest and peace in Jesus arms. your childish pranks will surely be missed by all and looking back you dribbled a sure and perfect score because God found you worthy to be amoungs the angel so good bye our friend a till me meet again to watch you score a sure and winning goal goodbye our friend may your soul find peace and rest till we meet again and soon we'll fill our cups once again and wishing you peace and rest till we meet again on heavens shores so good bye for now chadley till we meet again
a young boy once lived in a zoo
round him such a hullabaloo
to earn his full daily keep
he looked after all the sheep
shovelling up their mounds of poo
to change his one job he pestered
and with the truth he so twisted
then he looked after the goats
their smell was beyond a joke
regrets the story invented
now caring for baby camel
but was way too much to handle
on him they dribbled and spat
the next day he wore a hat
but still was too hard to handle
then he looked after the rabbits
but they had many bad habits
from him they would hop away
and would never stay and play
they treated him like a bandit
then he tried with the quacking ducks
here he had so much better luck
giving them bread by the pound
they would follow him around
now with small nests they would get stuck
Is it enough to call yourself a poet,
take some scattered words and hang them out like flags
flapping pointless rags unless arranged with skill,
pooled to fill an empty space with dribbled verbs
that splatter making stains upon the page,
there must be meaning, surely something more
than endless dreary sounds
waves of flotsam
floating noise which lands
then strands itself upon a language shore
The greens in my salad,
Do not look the same.
Not lettuce or spinach,
Can't really explain.
The leaves are light green.
Some are light,
Some are fluffy.
Some have hallowed stems,
Like straws.
I tried to feed the puppy.
He wasn't having any of that.
The cat meowed,
Arched her back.
No one was interested in my salad,
Except me.
I built a salad tower,
Dribbled dressing down the sides.
Now the tomatoes had some place to slide.
Twas a castle with lots of sides!
Cherry tomatoe on top,
Became a boulder!
Slid off.
Knocked my fork to the floor.
Reached down ready to create some more.
Then Momma walked into the room.
Momma said," Where did you get that salad I see?"
It was a bowl on the table.
I thought you left for me.
Momma said," Those are weeds from the garden.
If you ate any your tummy will hurt!"
Oh, my!
I thought it was my salad that you had left by.
Momma said," Perhaps you should throw it away.
I'll make you a better salad today."
gestural
abstraction
immediate
spontaneous
drips blobs
from the tube
non-formal
un-formulated
art informel
sans cérémonie
an
absence
of
a premeditated
structure
conception
or approach
dribbled
splashed
smeared
an emphasis
upon
the physical
process
itself
Howling winds flung me into the sea
waves lashed kelp ropes around me
my belligerence grew when I was seized
anger brewed the tighter they squeezed
With fists raised and teeth clenched
I resisted the harder they wrenched
voice rang out in acrimonious scream
my face contorted, wild eyes agleam
spittle dribbled from cracked lips
I neared the verge of sanity's eclipse
Man is but an elfin grain of sand
a mortal never has the upper hand
when wrangling with a sea of thunder
I was punished and plowed asunder
beneath coral reefs to ocean's floor
I cursed until I could no more
My swearing wails echoed my destiny
retched was my body from an angry sea
briny foam spit me on the rocky shore
done with me like an oft beaten whore
My crime was that I'd chosen wrong
the one I loved became my swan song
Piercing needles of torrential rain
burning injections increased the pain
Such bitter tea the cruel sea can steep
and I, a crumpet, tossed in restless sleep
I ripped the skin off my fingers, I didn’t want a fingerprint that had touched you to linger.
You could never deserve the feeling that my fingers could grace your skin, spat out your kisses as if I didn’t love the taste of toxicity that dribbled down my chin.
Never known a love to stay, they always crack and crumble to my dismay.
White clouds slowly turning dark as if flavored coffee dribbled
from above.
Winds of the unknown blew fiercely thru almost bare trees.
Crackling noise of an angry cloud Is heard in the distant
sky.
Is hope destroyed?
An unbelievable pause in despair.
The sun comes out for the briefest moment in time.
It says "I am still here, behind the clouds."
Sleepless, the body becomes
a mind map strung out on a bed,
color coded in degrees of pain.
Each movement sends an update,
a glowing patch of deepening red
or a lava line of heat solidifying
into a poker branding plunge
with a white hot X.
Staying still is only a temporary
reprieve, a lull for nerves to reset
and crank up for the next assault.
Inhabited space pressurizes
to send throbs pounding
on the walls of each weary cell
accompanied by waves
of relentless ache.
Thoughts clamber upwards
looking for a way out
but fall back into a dark
gravity, consumed by
that agonizingly slow countdown
when the next dose of oblivion
can be dribbled out of a pill
which, with any luck,
should get you through
until morning creeps across
your bed
with another installment.
pancakes barbara with cream
a buckwheat galette
haddock,prawn savoury wraps
brandy crepe suzettes
dribbled with treacle
Flip,flip Hoo
Ray!
When Pavlov’s dog met Schrödinger’s cat, the world stopped for a minute.
It didn’t really stop as such but glitched, a febrile minute
A thought experiment of sorts outside the box and in it.
The feline, they were out of sorts; a strontium addiction.
The dog conditioned, slobbered as a bell rang in the distance.
The cat’s eyes focused hard on the saliva of the hound
And under kitty’s observation, it dribbled down and down
The dog stared into the pool of spit and saw its own reflection
Still hungry, dog took stock of their repeated situation
Quantum in its furry form, the cat reflected also
Wondering about the stress upon its fragile torso
The cat laid down and closed its eyes; a fatal premonition
Only to breathe life again, a zombie like condition
So slobberdog and quatum cat began an interesting chat
About philosophy and science and ehtics and all of that
And quatum kitty laid their head upon the throat of dog
And wished that they could die together in the universal quantum fog.
the dogs were happy
did not have to dig deep
in bomb craters and
makeshift graves
they licked at pulverized bones
and liquefied brains
slurped up the proceeds of war
and roamed the street
sluggish and flatulent
saliva dribbled as well
from the industrial military complex
fused joy with sore fingers
from counting the money
Dmitri wondered
what had become of his folks
and where the flowers had gone
before he pegged his rag doll
to a skull bone that floated
in a sewer of lost hope
his young soul was confused
with reality and fake news
and yet his scarred mind
was never far from revenge
as he waded through carnage and destruction
he found remains of his pet
and smeared a bloody reminder
on his feverish forehead
picked up a land mine
and bode farewell to one of his arms
because the weapon exploded
never one to cease with belligerent ease
"I am feeling it." He said.
He meant his age. As I watched
I saw a vision…
Out from the cuttlefish bones of his breast
grime coughed up and dribbled.
I saw his heart stutter, the vapid flutter,
watched his lungs belch and utter
like a broken bladder.
A horseman on a creaking steed
raised its hoary head
and pointed an ancient ladle
speaking thus -
"Stir me belly lad," it said,
"spoon me sticky sump,
dole globs of lymph from here to there.
Me grease is dumpy and lumpy.
Me hip-bones crunch
while me dingle wilts and dangles.
Me ears is gummy lad,
I've gone to the bad.”
The specter faded.
The old guy smiles, rubs his thin hair.
"I also see it sometimes," he says,
"that liver-spotted ghost
that chains me to an even older vision
of you."
I used to be a façade
Only inches away from entropy
But at such randomness and without delve
You who once was an instance
Became the love of of my non-spectated existence
Nimble and fierce
The ride went in rippled and dribbled
But in me was that stillness and bond
Then I know it was real with no folly or fond
The future unbeknownst
Yet in reality we are facing it head on
Fate lucid and life constantly in retrospect
We are still here; may it be weeping or joyful
Time on end, we are still here draped in tulle
This our so called FOURTEENTH
Not wishing on extravagance or less of a whirlwind
But only longing for our demons reconciled
It’s a milestone for you but a dream come true for me
And of all my battles, you’re the only who ought me to be free.
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