Nyla has a coffee mug glued to her hand
Spends all her time in the coffee bar, Latte Land
Must have fresh ground roast; nothing common or canned
Complains if she tastes one teensy bit of coffee sand
Nyla has some kind of weird coffee bean-loving gland.
Around this mug, her right hand is usually fanned.
Puts on airs, acts like she is ever so grand.
Trips to Latte Land are pretty much daily planned.
• "Knock knock," a familiar voice said
• I peep through the window and swing open the door
• My good friend Jim-Bob is seen standing there
• Feet glued to the floor
Written: December 19, 2023
____________________________________________
In silken sheen of grace
with gleaming, auric strings
wedged ambrosian wonder;
once shown in ancient space
tough, spark us to ponder.
In silken sheen of grace
and I stroked the mauve scent,
and snow fell on the frame
with all plush of my heart
I sense it least would claim.
In silken sheen of grace,
I searched for unique yarns
what a charmed loom may pose
that caught the season's bloom;
they held their blossoms close.
In silken sheen of grace
the hazy breath of gold
the zooming, meager flame,
Its charm shielding my heart,
counting each one by name.
if I glued, of ego and pride
I must have been crazy
If you explored the psyche, where it wanders and what it sees
You must have understood
You could have known the wind breeze in it;
And the falls of the what if thoughts;
And the voices from the unknown;
And the whispers of the singers and the birds - harmonizing the silent hill of the top of my brain
You must have understood!
...And you did - almost
If your mind was open wide
But it could not let it, nor anything
You filtered the soul and the body, everything, almost, be it right?
Because you must have understood
She painted her lips with intent to define but they began to elude
her over time.
They grew harder and harder for her to find.
She just couldn't see that lipstick line.
I think perhaps she's going blind.
She decided to paint her ears instead.
They were still firmly attached to her head.
The only problem was what people now said.
"Are you ill my dear? Your ears are bright red."
This poem will make the most sense if
you’ve watched the old time television series
“Get Smart.”
GUMSHOE IS GLUED
Silence -
timeless...
The cone
is prone
to make
mistakes.
Boss shares.
Max stares.
“Eh? What?”
“What? What?”
Chief groans.
Lifts cone.
Chaos -
cash loss.
Its cure -
murder.
Control -
its mole.
Oaf spy.
Boob tries.
His shoe
is glued.
Can’t call
in brawl.
His wife
saves life.
Nine-nine
is fine.
They win
Have twins.
Chaos
is boss.
5/7/2021
It seems that I've missed the birthday of Jan
I'll tell you the truth... I'm not a 'proud man'
I've been glued to the pot
Seems the 'Poop Bug' I've got
Well, either that or I ate ~ and I ran
Happy Birthday, Jan Allison!
~ and many, many more
Glued-to-TV Fay and Glued-also Jim
Watching love match shows sighing on a whim.
Both pining away
For a wedding day
Chance meeting from Lazy-Boys mighty slim.
Two doses of white Picolax
It’s liquid- unlike choc ex-lax
This drink is the pits
I’ve now got the squits
No wonder I cannot relax!
*I’ve never had Ex Lax and the Picolax was much more pleasant to drink than I had been lead to believe... got my colonoscopy tomorrow .. who knows if there will be a poop poem on that subject!
07/06/20
What I see is ashame
Time lost can't replace
These kids of today
Screens glued to their face
All I see when I look
These kids they don't blink
Their eyes stuck wide open
Not even a wink
You ask them a question
A response with no luck
Tunnel vision and hearing
They're glued there and stuck
They take it all places
Where ever they are
The bathroom no doubt
And even the car
They shield with their jackets
When it's pouring down rain
Start with full power
Until the battery drains
Then quick to the charger
To plug it right in
Technology I think
Has ruined our kids
By Troy Toney
7-7-19
something in the sign in which you pen me
something in the burial grounds in which you den me
something in the illuminated images in which you pretend me
the yellow blues of the caution lights do rain dances on my sanity
see, when you walked away, i became a cross legged cripple
there was no longer heat in the center point of the simplest ripple
i commenced to banging my head to double and the triple
oh how i yearn for a cheek, a pearl, or even a nipple
if there was a wishing well at the end of life's force field,
then i would build all around it the mightiest surefire shield
not a soul could get through it even if one attempts to yield
constructed would be the formation of our own brand of guild
Tell me you love me
You don't know what tomorrow brings
The sun isn't free
So treasure the little things
Find the light
At the end of the tunnel
Don't take flight
Your happiness, don't pummel
You can't dwell on the past
Keep your eyes straight
Moments will pass you fast
Just believe in fate
The hourglass is glued down
That's a fact
Don't frown
Keep that smile in tact
Time is permanent
If you're alive
You're fortunate
But you need to thrive
Written in July 2012
It's been a year
one where it seemed to be based on
fear.
I was always sad.
Would you be surprised that now I am glad?!
Yeah sure my heart broke in two,
then I grew up! right out of the blue!
Okay so maybe not that fast,
but it sure does feel good to know
the past is the past.
Yes it was quite the struggle.
At every turn I melted into a
whimpering puddle.
Now I see from a new view
that the world isn't out to get you!
I pick up the pieces of my heart
Piece by piece, part by part
It breaks every single time
All the emotions in it sublime
Funny thing, I'm fixing it again
Shouldn't bother, it causes me pain
But still I learn that i have pride
I must endure, life's a rough ride
Doesn't matter if I lose it all
Doesn't matter if I have a great fall
Doesn't matter if people hate me
Because they don't see what I see
Doesn't matter if my life is hell
Endure it, Live the story, then tell
Doesn't matter if my loved one rejected me and said no
Move on, don't you dare let it show
Doesn't matter I was betrayed
It's ok, nobody ever stayed
Doesn't matter if I actually die
I'll soar the skies as I fly
Doesn't matter if I ever succeed
My pain is continuing to bleed
Doesn't matter if I tell you "I love you"
I know you won't say "too, I do"
Doesn't matter that family is but a sin
It traps you like a mouse in a can of tin
Doesn't matter that he throws obstacles my away
I believe in myself, I know I'll be okay
Even though my life is a sad song
My faith still picks me up, I'm still strong
Doesn't matter for my life is but art
Its masterpiece, my glued heart
The human spirit is like a figurine sitting on a shelf,
it emanates positive feelings to many as they pass by,
but no one really notices, until the figurine is gone
Perhaps broken into tiny little pieces.........
The only memory that is left, is the dust that
surrounds where it used to stand,
We can try to glue the figurine back together
but it is never the same,
Fragile and stoic the figurine tries to hold itself together,
until a rumble or breeze flows through and once again it
becomes "unglued".
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