With an ingenuine saccharine la-di-da
The hoity toity woman said “hi” to ma
A want to be royal, an aristocrat
stated poser, false Sheila name of Pat
My brother was smitten right away
He gave her his best times of day
Pat could have been a clock tower shooter
He did not see this at all, my brother Tooter
She is so refined and fashionable!
I thought a narcist too and really dull
She is so pretty and genteel
I did not think so, and here’s the deal…
I knew William, her ex, a wonderful man
She stole all his stuff except for a fan
At her sale she refused to sell to him
He was escorted out by her new friend Tim
Will’s dog was sad, she had him staked out mean
Putting on airs like a Victorian Queen
Pat married my brother Tooter of course
Arrived in a carriage with a rented horse
We may have lost him I said to my ma
Just like your daddy, she said, referring to Pa
For Pa had run away with a scoundrel too
She took all his money and possessions in ’82.
intense intimate direct
all over art
arrested moments
of
the
energetic flamboyant
purpose filled
flings
a surfeit
of emotional energy
in controlled
abandonment
of space & time
living
the moment
of
the unconscious unwrapped
revealed
in a harmony
of the whole
dip and thrown
vibrant eclectic frantic
vigour
at a fresco scale
in
the giant closeup
a horizontal
becomes
a mural
until
inspiration
evaporates
into
the ephemera
of
selfdoubt
Joe and Shelly’s house is on fire!
It is simply and surely ablaze!
The flames are incessantly higher.
Yet we see him sitting there, in a daze.
Mr. Hamilton runs straight in there,
We see him through the transparent window.
He runs promptly back out with burning hair,
Did you get our neighbors Shelly and Joe?
You will not believe it he tells us.
A mannequin was in Joe’s chair.
Firemen come without a fuss.
The smell of smoke permeates the air.
Tables, computers, cherished photos too
Quickly curled up and died that night
Made Joe’s almost ex a little blue,
What he might do next gave her a fright.
Revenge Joe never came back, that conniving scamp.
He had cancelled his home owners’ insurance a month ago.
Enjoyed the rest of his days playing a guitar in a hobo camp
Making his fearful wandering wife a pauper, that little ‘ho.
It was over thirty years ago
When I was married the first time
My mother gave me recipes
That were favorites of mine
Her Italian sauce and Biscotti cookies
She had written down for me
I've cooked them both many a time
Oh, they taste so wonderfully
After I had got divorced
Two years later she had passed
Oh my god, the time sure flies
It's gone by so darn fast
I forgot about the recipes
When I went back on my own
But I did a lot of cooking
When I lived home all alone
Each time now when I make a sauce
It still never tastes the same
I still can't match that special taste
From my mothers cooking hand of fame
I never made the Biscotti cookies
Because the recipe was not around
Until my daughter surprised me and said
"Hey dad, look what I just found"
My ex-wife had them for thirty years
She had found them in a book
And gave them to my daughter for me
So that I can bake and cook
A pretty cool thing my ex had done
Yes, a pretty cool thing I say
So I'll make a batch of Biscotti cookies
And I'll give my ex a tray
Ex, T-Rex, Box, Spandex, Sex, Tux.
Ex, a person who used to make you the happiest,
Ex, an ******* you are better off not having in your life.
T-Rex, the mightiest of the dinosaurs,
T-Rex, also a reminder that even the greatest things can die out.
Box, a cardboard container for something from a loved one,
Box, a place you put thoughts in your head to avoid addressing them.
Spandex, the material that stretches across my skin to look skinny again,
Spandex, the material that gives me hives from sticking to my skin with sweat
Sex, the eye opening experience that brings you closer to your person,
Sex, the legs opening experience that hurts like a son of a *****.
Tux, the suit men put on before seeing their blushing bride.
Tux, the suit men put on before settling into their final resting place.
Ex, T-Rex, Box, Spandex, Sex, Tux.
Gave my dear Ex a parting gift
A lovely comfortable chair
But I'm really not allowed to turn it on
It's a felony in this land so fair!
I'm not to blame if her latest hubby
Made a very big mistake
And lit her up like a Christmas Tree
Smelling like an overdone steak
As he watched his lover bake away
He sported this evil grin
It seemed that things weren't all that great
With my dear sweet Ex and him
So on her epitaph was written this
“I loved receiving gifts”
But this one was really too hot to handle
Sure gave her ending a twist!
© Jack Ellison 2012
What do you see in an 'Ex' when
Experienced?
An Ex-perience not to be Ex-humed,
An Ex-creted entity not to be Ex-amined,
An Ex-planation for an extra Ex-pectation.
An Ex-plicit emblem of empty Ex-it.
An Ex-pression of Ex-tinction.
An Expatriate of evasive Expulsion
An Ex-clusive error never to be Ex-cused.
An Ex-ample of an error that's Ex-pensive.
An Ex-posure to expedient Ex-celence.
Should an Ex an Ex-ample of Extintion?
Inspired by Petagaye Moncrieffe's 'An Ex
Should Remain An Ex'(A short note)
There is a fine line between sane and insane.
It is so small its hard for us to explain.
We all have our little quirks and ticks.
But were are not insane, its nothing to fix.
There isn't a single person who hasn't had crazy thoughts.
We just don't talk about them, that's what we are taught.
When we meet people we keep it locked inside.
We push our tendencies down and if asked we lied.
How many of us over-reacted to a broken heart?
Calling your ex a thousand times, that's the crazy part.
Or getting mistreated or fired from the place you work.
You know what you wanted to do to that boss or jerk.
And how many of us have been called neat freaks?
Its because that little voice inside us always speaks.
Don't you think that is just a tad bit strange?
I am not trying to point out that you maybe deranged.
My point is, we all have our moments of doubt.
Were not sure if were insane, but we never let it out.
We show others what we want them to see, the rest is buried.
Women let it come out after your together forever and married.
***For Nancy Jones' contest, “Fine line between...”