She dreamt a dream of a requisite requiem far away,
For the unrequited love of life, led her lanky lamb's limbs astray.
To where she'd dither along the moor's marsh land,
Braved the dreary draughts of randy rain and hindless hail.
She'd return without fail in her frailty.
To where the shadows cast by the leaves of the alders,
Speckled across her open back like silver freckles.
She'd sway in the clearest of days, and lay in the ravage of rain.
And in saltier slathers of gold graced spit,
She'd await the pair of goldfinches to descend upon her silver speckled clit.
Await the trill of their liquid song, sung by their acetone tongue ,
Pecking a silver chime over the pleasure of grated groans.
“No.” Her iron lungs lunged and quivered.
She supposed he knew from his exhale and shiver.
Awake, now, lesserly known nor knowing, moreso,
awaken, alone, but with the haunting face of a *** upon her window,
“outside, look outside”
It called, so she stayed inside, unknown, laying low from the randy ravage of his rage.
9/11/2025
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
copper-colored leaves
mackerel sky*
fall arrives
with quiet grace
It was my much despised dish
But I ate it with relish,
Because of a granted wish
To be served Mackerel Fish
And treated to a glimpsed quiche
But that was rather childish
To a friend acting British
All of a sudden snobbish
And I hated q wished fish
Like Devout Christians Hashish...
Then, I'd been the quite sheepish:
Unstable Saul Son of Kish
For accepting The Despised
After it was a bit spiced.
Each time, he clumsily drank,
Rapidly shrank:
Increasing glasses of burning whisky
He knew was risky.
Then, twice ‘Pitiless Rum’ he tried
And up he dried
A mackerel, from head-to-tail fried!
Like a plant to soon wilt
At a stand still; did tilt…
Now, exceedingly poor,
His company forcing on a family of four,
He had the Lord God to thank,
Each time, he half-filled his tank.
But it has nothing changed
And his life not re-arranged:
In drinking quarters, of Field Marshal Rank
Which I heard and my heart sank.
God! A man by choice bat-blind,
Straight up to his mind?
To all others perfectly behind
While a perfect wristwatch he does wind…
Alcohol Field Marshal,
Whom to ‘Positive Change’ could brave an “I shall”.
mackerel pudding
mackerel cake
mackerel pie for goodness sakes!
mackerel blinds
mackerel drapes
mackerel ice cream on chocolate cakes.
mackerel poems
mackerel words.
mackerel now sounds rather absurd.
mackerel dogs
mackerel cats.
mackerel quilts made by a skittish old bird.
feasting gulls gather
on a lip of cockled sand
mackerel mourning
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