in my favorite inexpensive thai restaurant
i move to the right side of the table
she is less likely to see the wall to her right
i try hard to avoid a lull in the conversation
and aim to be more scintillating than usual
each time her gaze moves a few degrees to her right
i make a dramatic exclamation
i consciously avoid looking at the wall on my left
though it’s difficult
because I want to monitor its position
as i silently pray for it to move behind her
it seems like it can’t make up its mind
as it moves first closer
then farther
from her peripheral vision
it almost seems to be teasing me
tormenting me
we finish eating
i’m waiting for the check
i’m in the home stretch
almost paid and gone
but then
she looks
and sees
the cockroach
no more favorite inexpensive thai restaurant
She broke into the empty house
and felt someone was there;
ignoring that, she walked around,
but sensed a hostile stare.
From room to room she paced, and glanced
behind her, all her hairs
on end. Too late she saw the form
that shoved her down the stairs...
It just turns up
like an uninvited guest
Putting me to the test
It sits there waiting
Im not impressed
Waiting for my weakness
Sneaking around my veins
It overpowers me
Like a snake
But i'm awake
Shivers, shakes, a dark place
I breathe slow and steady
I'm ready
Letting go I feel giddy
It starts moving towards the door
I need to focus on my happy thoughts
Yellow, pink, orange and blue
Squirrels and Robins
Trees and flowers
Family and friends
Love is true
It flies out of the door
I am me once more
I am ready
The door is locked
I'm safe again.
The army intruder
I live near a stream that has been running dry for years
into a winter lake that has been drained to a helicopter pad
trees around wear dusty uniforms.
There is edginess in Europe after many years of peace
the warrior monster is waking up.
The monster is psycho erratic and can strike at any time
asks for more weapons.
We think we know who the enemy is, as usual, but we are wrong
as we listen to the voice of antagonism.
A new page of history is written; we must make a choice
Not wait till millions of people are killed, the last bomb dropped
when a poet writes about the war, be “the guardian famous.”
The new peace will only last so long because the human mindset
is set on war; this is our tragedy.
The voice for peace is as puny as children cry in the symphony
of the battlefield.
Good against bad
light against dark
Intruder beware when
the big, bad dog barks
Dr. Jekyl "Hyding"
Swimming in the Devils Pond
Cold and Hot
Ole murky water can't be much fun
A peepin' and a pokin'
Trespassing on sacred ground
An enormous spiraling deviant
A soul lost, can it be found?
O' great 5th dimension sailing
Up and away from the third
Spirit ancestors and guides present
Intruder beware of the divine gird
One day I was walking through the woods,
Since it was the quickest route to my house.
As I approached my house I heard a loud CRASH!
This was pequilier because I had been living alone for years now.
I cautiously approached my front door.
Although I was quiet, my door had other plans.
CREEEEAK.
I prayed that whatever or whoever was in my house was hard of hearing.
I continued to enter into my house.
I don't believe that it heard me, since the noises continued.
I couldn't locate where the sound was coming from so I began to check the rooms.
I kicked each door down with a BOOM!
PING! I heard from the kitchen.
The second I figured out where it was coming form I dashed to the location of the sound.
I entered the room to see a possum rummaging through my stuff.
I grabbed my trusty broom and began swatting at it.
a loud HISS from the possum startled me but I continued to shoo it out of my house.
It chewed through the insulation on my windows so I replaced it with a piece of woods in hopes that it wouldn't come back.
Idlers, paved paths with active energies, purloining, feigning amity.
Dodgy & concealing past immoral dregs by comradely, waspish mien.
Obdurately empowered by this stranger plucked from their nocturnal fantasies
Wanton mistresses of countless broken walls in desperation for time.
Unbridled intrusion cloaked in religiosity vexed by undefined arrogance.
Oft, in pretext, manipulating, with energies stronger than the POPE.
Habits of a thuggish intervention foist on bewitched “soul tie”
Ill-beseeming nuances summoning this Stygian to their unsealed brothels
Obvious cliquish vindictive venom of a barrage of past bed felon.
Zestfully compelling, violently intrusive and surreptitiously preying.
Ending the farce, Rapscallion oozing countless entries on the rotten hole.
It steals silently in the dark night,
wrapping your mind into its arms,
telling tales of your majesty,
enhancing stories of your many charms.
Soon you feel on top of the world.
Nothing can get in your way.
Everything's perfect: you made it so.
You, the ruler of all your survey.
Money has suddenly grown on trees.
You talk ceaselessly, not eat a bite.
You ride along on the mania trip
where everything seems to excite.
Your opposite is depth of depression.
Ennui invades everything now.
You've come down with a terrible sadness;
the weight of the world furrows your brow.
Sleep becomes your only refuge.
About your dreams, one hasn't a clue.
When roused from sleep, you stare at TV,
and stare at the ceiling long periods, too.
This is the roller coaster of your life,
a ride one would not willingly take.
The ups very high, the downs very low,
the mediums you must forsake.
For those caretakers with a loved one
afflicted with this terrible assault:
you ride up and down on waves of their mind
because you realize no one is at fault.
In Italy, I walked along Pompeii:
an eeriness exudes each house and street
(although those crumbling structures had been fine,
lived in and loved by those who'd died that day);
the ground still trodden by so many feet...
like mine.
I wondered, 'Is it right to visit here,
to peer in places where they'd sleep and dine?'
The people felt so close as though we'd meet;
what would they think of me, a sightseer?
Their shrine!
written 20th October for Sara's curtal sonnet contest
The kitchen knife slipped - blood now dripping from
the intruders fingertips.
27.08.2020
When Plans don't go to plan
Sponsor Silent One.
Always wondered what its like to be an adult son, because my father died early.
Longed to see the expression on grandmother's face at the sight of my daughter.
I will never experience growing old with four sibling who died before age 60.
Wondered. Longed. Never to know. It's the cruel offerings of death, the intruder.
072520PSCtest, Four Lines Poetry, Constance La France. 3P
Tweety, my little sister.
Tweety is a perfect twitter.
Whole day fluttering on my ear.
To know my secrets, she is always eager.
She is a big-time dodger.
To my privacy, she is the only intruder.
At just twelve, she can make my life hell.
My clothes, my heels and every little fandangle,
Silently flips into her dwell.
LOL! I suffer from Tweetyphobia,
she tells me, it was easy for her to discover.
Hahaha, she knows! She knows, my rantings are pure love for her.
Entwined emotions, we are inseparable sailors.
My cutest cuddler. The cutest little creature.
When I feel low, she is my favourite healer.
I wish this great camaraderie grows deeper and deeper
Love your beyond limits, O, My sweetest sister!
I scroll through all the blind cows slowly chewing on their superstition
They barely look up as I infiltrate their sacred pasture
I make a few bold statements of my non-belief
They softly moo with a gasp at my arrogance
I go in not to be evil but to observe
I am fascinated how they ingest and regurgitate their "truth"
Their calves suckling the utters of milky righteousness
They stand huddled; fearing the farmer on the hill
I leave them in peace standing shoulder to shoulder
in their meadow of fantasy
Why do I feel like an intruder looking in?
Who wrote the script? Who is the producer?
Why is my part so minute?
I long to be your leading lady.
Why does she have the starring role?
Why was I not chosen for the part?
I fell for you along time ago, we were friends.
Everytime she's near you I want to yell cut
from the depths of my tortured soul.
I want to be the star in our epic love story.
I want to be your leading lady always.
*minute
extremely small, as in size, amount, extent, or degree: minute differences.
of minor importance; insignificant; trifling.
attentive to or concerned with even the smallest details: a minute examination.
Alexis Y.
11-7-18
He's in the house of my heart
And he's not paying rent
I hate that he is stealing my attention
And stealing my possession
Yet I feel like he don't deserve the succession
No no he can't be heir to my heart
I can't die of him yet
Can't let him take over my state
I don't know if he's the right ruler of it
So am holding back my vote
But like a reflex my hand stretches to give him a tick
And putting my whole being at stake
His manifesto is so enticing
Every citizen within my state is screaming in support at his words
And screaming for joy when he comes up stage to debate
Stretching out their hands to touch him
He has charmed them and much as I've been the it ruler of my state
Someone is winning me at a high rate
And I hate to admit it
I'm falling deep for this that I don't want to fall for
And this calls for war
I never accept defeat
So I won't retreat
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