She is a professional revenge seeker
I would not call her a friend
more an acquaintance
Let’s call her Madeline
she will never know it is her
and she is savage in getting even
if anyone does the slightest thing to her
she is ready to take out a hatchet and lop off their head
her family is terrified of her
her neighbors cross the road when they see her coming
she has been known to chop mice into pieces and place them in your yard
if she thinks you have double crossed her in any way
here she comes now; I have to stop typing
I do not want her to suspect I am home.
plaiting my hair
tantamount to braiding three plastic slides
it is thick and unruly
with several minds of its own
determined to lash out in all directions
to prevent this catastrophe
when it gets long enough to ponytail
I put a rubber band around the ends
and use garden shears to lop off the length
sometimes breaking the shears
Would you rather have your bangs cut too short
Or have someone come by and lop off your head?
For me it would be the latter, for I despise short bangs.
They make me self-conscious, and I wish I was dead.
My best friend and I have nothing in common at first sight
She is a well-put together band box of classy chic
Yet we are always in sync, agreeing as we listen to each other
My pajamas have not been in the wash for days, neither has my hair.
We can sit for hours in silence, neither of us talking
I breathe easier when we are together
Feeling relaxed and warm, saying nothing
Yet understanding we would fight giant spiders for each other
“I would lop off his head,” she says during a TV show.
Laughter bubbles up from my tummy bottom.
He wouldn’t bother me, I tell her. I never bathe.
We cannot stop laughing.
A Gruesome tale unlike the norm, that takes upon a creatures form. No tail of lizard no Eye of Newt. All the ingredients are in your suit. No wistful yarns of witches so sweet, in this bloody tale they lop off your feet. Crunching and noshing them to their delight. think this is the end? You know you'r not right.. Everyone knows how those stories end. But the end of this tale will not be your friend. In fact, you've heard this tale while playing with your toys. Never realizing the connection between missing girls and boys. your parents told them on a stormy night, to put you to bed in a state of fright. But i promise that wasn't scary, they pose you no harm. For the dreadful end to this story..is the witch is your mom!
Mama writes a nine page letter to me
The school counselor
Wanting me to lop off some heads, twist some arms,
Do other things I would never do
She wants someone to pay.
I read lots of anger in her
large angry block letters
She thinks her baby has been victimized
I know her baby who is certainly not blameless.
I wait for the principal, suspecting this is a neighborhood problem.
Principal has been here six years, she concurs my suspicions
and answers the mother.
Huge relief for me.
We are sluggish and miserable and fighting and mean.
Our collie is dragging, she's angry as any lop-off-your-head queen.
The temperatures are heating us up in a variety of ways.
Our attitudes match the temperatures, there is no relief these days.
Our cat Poindexter Puddle Pooh is so snarly, persnickety and mad
We heard her call the garbage man a name, and it sounded like cad.
Temps have been over a hundred, mostly 112 for a month and a half.
There is no breeze, no rain, no moisture, no wind, not even a draft.
We are unruly, a mob, angry as hops, staying inside with our clan.
This is not exciting or fun by anyone's imaginative plan.
We are staying inside, but if the air conditioning breaks
I have to admit, it would be worse than ten thousand tooth aches.
We are not happy, we are nasty, we are irritable, wet to go off.
Ready to annihilate our enemies, we do eye-rolling, and plenty of scoff.
We have played video games until our eyes are too tired to see.
I wish the rain would come soon. I am starting to hate my TV.
The dog is wanting a litter box for himself, he will not go outside.
I do not blame him. With this weather, I want a cave in which to hide.
He was a formidable knight, young Crusader Jim.
The ladies of the kingdom were afraid of him
When summoned to his lair, they were slow to go.
Afraid they would not return for he was a show.
The other knights of the castle had tried to befriend him
But he was a lone wolf, this fierce being dubbed Jim.
He sat in the corner ‘til was the army’s turn to fight
Running to danger with every ounce of his might.
He was scary and dangerous, this champion of the queen.
Stories of his exploits were well known; he was brutally mean.
He did not mind slashing you to ribbons or cutting off your head.
He was vicious and ruthless, everywhere including the bed.
So if he summons you to come hither, my girl, make an escape.
Put on a cloak and run swiftly into the forest, saving your nape.
Young Crusader Jim is brutal, a killer, a murderer, a lout.
Keep your eyes down not making eye contact if you want to get out.
If you are a knight from another kingdom not far away,
Matched up in battle, stay away from this silver and gray.
He will slash you and stab you and lop off your head.
You will be brutally slain and rather promptly be dead.
REMEMBER
When the picture comes alive
With crimson smell and bulbous flies
Where death screams all around you
With helmets used for everything
Shells lop off heads
Arms and legs fly like jets
The air reeks with the devil’s plot
open air carcasses once human
Nakedly exposed until no one notices
Back at home medals hit the bed
Pillows whisper voices of the night
Loved ones can’t handle the carnage
Often eyes bleary from drink
Of this host we remember
We never forget
We read until our eyes bleed
Our freedom costs lives both alive and dead
We salute you
We tip our hat
We feed you
We pin a medal on your bursting chest
We watch you parade down the avenue
We listen to your stories
We respect your right not to speak of the dead
We love you
You are us
You are humanity
We pray heaven keep you
Memorial day!
May 2017
If I could only have you now
I would trade anything,
for there's no price that is too grand
if you would wear my ring.
If my flesh and blood were vital
To meet with the demand,
I’d swiftly sacrifice an arm
If just to hold your hand.
If it were seen imperative
I would forfeit my sight,
and only view you with eyes closed
during my dreams at night.
If its my voice that's called upon
To make sweet the bargain,
I’d gladly lop off my own tongue,
actions speak more than jargon.
If the pact were judged still wanting
Perhaps my wits would serve?
Long as they leave your memories,
which fill up every nerve.
If it were my strength that's pressing
to clinch the transaction,
If I've still the might to hold you,
then there's no infraction.
There's none of me I would not cede
Save for a single part,
For that alones not mine to give
Because you own my heart.
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