What are you doing here, Crane?
In the mountains with your long legs and backwards knees?
Your head bobbing forward with each step,
we’re not used to birds like you.
The magpie is watching too,
before he goes on with his morning tea.
Thanks for coming
but I hope you can find your way home.
Her sexuality constantly vaunted
Nakedness continually flaunted
With long shapely legs
Lets do it she begs
Then away she casually sauntered
Fly spoke to spider,
Creeping up close behind her,
"Rak off, hairy legs!"
An iron gaff impales my tongue,
a barbed and rusted length of steel;
where putrid, swollen lungs once hung,
the black brine rots all that is left to feel.
The tempest split my ribcage wide
to anchor horror in my gut;
I drank the writhing, bloated tide,
through each raw and gangrened cut.
This quiet earth now snaps my spine,
a suffocating, heavy vice;
it crushes down this form of mine,
a maggot-eaten sacrifice.
I spew up bile and jagged bone,
my sea legs torn, a bloodied pit;
the silence screams against the stone
where flies and festered sores now sit.
The phantom deck begins to split,
my tendons tearing to match the deep;
I rip my own wet flesh to fit
this horror that I cannot keep.
I crawl through dirt, a severed head,
a corpse that vomits back the gale;
the sea-bound rot is all that’s bred
to haunt the wreckage of the sail.
This peace is acid in my veins,
a sickening and stagnant hell;
my body yearns for wracking pains
to break this suffocating spell.
After you touch me
I have no doubts you love me
Ugly cry sea deep
The ship may list, the deck may rise,
And palls may blur the painted skies,
Though deep within the shifting tide,
Your tired, aching steps confide.
The floorboards rock, the timbers groan,
But you have claimed the deep your own.
With parted knees and shoulders bent,
You move in quiet, sweet content.
The rigid stance of coastal streets,
A memory that now retreats;
Instead, you yield to every roll,
Allowing waves to shape your soul.
For when the ocean claims your feet,
The racing pulse begins to beat
In perfect time with foam and spray,
Where gravity is washed away.
So let the vessel dip and dive,
You are the rhythm made alive.
No longer fighting nature’s might,
But walking with the dark and light.
Have you seen pink bull with the girly legs?
Why wouldn’t he have boy-ly legs? I asked
We don’t know but he is clearly from Winnipeg
Thinks he is all that, being cute is his task
I found the pink bull on a photo shoot
It was clear from the get go he thought he was cute
The legs did not make sense, bulls are male you see
I took lots of photos, to laugh about later over tea
If I shaved my legs today
I’d have an afghan right away
I could braid myself a car cover too
hairs on my legs are more than a few
If I shaved my legs today
I could stop tripping when I go out to play
I could get my feet into a shoe
It is something I might have to do
Stand on longlegs,,
cool shallow water.
Colors are pinks not reds.,
Tourists taking pictures,
as we look away.
Today no eggs.,
I strive for a nightly embrace
that snuggles us closely in place
but restless legs harm
my want and my arms
when jerking spouse flies me thru space.
There once were old legs full of fight,
That creak in the dawn’s early light,
Though knees whisper “stay,”
They march anyway,
With pride in each stumble despite the plight.
My legs recently have not been so carefree.
I am no longer strong like a tree;
my doctor said, "You have to rest from dancing, Dear.
You have a tear- oh, just for a while - to my tips you must adhere."
With hope, I began slow walking everyday,
but sometimes- I do let my hips sway.
I know it will be a long bitter fight -
with throbbing pain at night.
But walking with my friend each day is filling me with glee.
I feel that with work that I will be dancing again happy and free.
Its ob-scene yet not ob-scure.' Quite clear
The people must exerscise de'jure.' there
Were buisness officers sent armed to the
Teeth..Entailed unto your deadly grief.'
Just before the court action, Dezi was looking for truth and action.' Dingo dan though planned to thwart being beside it TWOT leader he'd have had to decide it would be great if an offence could be pinned on Freeman, the case would never
Be tried..Now goons are expendable.' And
If one perhaps were killed, he could say good riddance 'to that free-man' and old
danny boy could ridel.! That would only leave that car crash.? Yet he was good by
Thunder..The slipperiest snake that ever had slithered around
This land (Down under)
I walked with my legs
straight into nightmares
never saw another person
coming up the stairs
- Come to get me like that
Breathed through my ankles
lived from a rucksack
slept in the tree house
and walked like a quack quack
- But don't you quote me on that
Take three steps at a time
never need no crutch
didn't want a brother
wasn't asking for much
- They'll never get me like that
I think it's time
and I wish it was time
to let me go home
so let me go home now
I run with the wind,
past a couple of windsocks.
I see they sometimes droop,
sometimes stretched full,
indicating the speed of the wind
that thrusts forward my body,
helping the tired legs
stride at the pace of the wind.
My legs seem to wear windsocks,
so, I know my running speed.
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