to get her or a,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, ,,,,, part
we will bounce
--------------------------------aro und
the page d
--------------r
--------------o
--------------p why knot mess about with words and
sent all the ences away
that single tear that holds the others back
from the crafted raft ran ted from the aft
Back to naught
not sure if i used nought the air
but imagine there was a whim sickle
you have been
wait could you sickle with a scythe
Anywhys
Late Ur's
Conscious this-consciousness
I’ll rule you with my one,
Will rest you when nighttime falls and
Smash you with my sun.
Will feed you with fit forces
Where nothing is to doubt,
Where sadness comes a-sneaking
No time to mess about.
When hopelessness is woefulness
A glimpse it shall not serve,
I’ll plot a long and with a song,
T’is me I will reserve.
Controlling what I can
To small things with precision,
So evil will not touch me
From peer positive position.
Taking what I can
Building myself strong,
So I will go the distance and
Life I will prolong.
Other you can stay there too
Though right there at the back,
I'll take charge and you I’ll barge
For perception you do lack.
One consciousness to rule
Then order will correct,
Any missing pieces
I forgot to check.
Conscious this- consciousness
Know I am wide awake,
Powerful and to my core
Not me- You’ll ever break.
UP ON THE VERANDA
Up on back veranda
Near the old wooden steps,
Looking out to milking shed
Old Ma Stewart sat alone in her chair,
Rocking ever so gently,
Not a sound originated,
Her gaze fixated
To the ground in front.
Old Ma Stewart
Was one not to mess about,
When it came to
Getting things done
On her own accord,
And this was the case,
And the case in being,
Was what underneath
And beneath her feet?
She had seen it go there and under
Three mornings ago,
Then Old Ma Stewart in the ways
Of ingenuous country folk,
Had placed a saucer of milk
Next to wooden veranda steps,
And each morn as the brute
Came out to drink,
And to lick its lips,
Not ever noticing saucer
A little further out each day,
And on the fourth morn;
Old Ma Stewart gently
Rocked back and forth,
Her saucer of milk in place,
Then as the brute
Came out and about
Looking forward for another feed,
And at the moment of licking lips
Olde Ma Stewart SPRANG!
And she wasn’t going to miss
Lopping off with shovel
This mongrel’s head.
And the head
Of this black six-foot monster,
Now in victory
Hanging on the fence;
Next to shearing shed.
Francis Cooper – Mac © 2018
Love doesn't dash, it loiters -
with repeated movements like music
and beautifully crude endearments.
Love does't dash, it lingers
with rhythms like dance
and boastfully rude aphorisms.
So dally my love - lollygag,
lounge and we'll share breaths
and mess about.
love doesn’t dash, it loiters
with repeated movements like music
and beautifully crude endearments
love doesn’t dash, it lingers
with rhythms like dance?
and boastfully rude aphorisms
So dally with me my love
lollygag, lounge and in a while
we'll share breaths and mess about
What love means when there is no trust in love,
What trust means when there is no understanding,
Your the first person I know with a smile,
A smile of yours make me melt,
Beginning with happiness,
Middle with hurtness,
Ending with a question mark,
I do get you but my heart still in a mess about you,
You're not a straightforward person,
Keeping more than telling,
You want to know about the person,
But you dont let others to know about you,
You want to meet a person,
But you're not prepare to meet,
You are in rush but you manage to make it look as you're in cool temperature,
You are still curious about the person,
But never stop asking from her,
What in you but not in others,
What is in others but not in you?
Like quicksilver changing moods in a day
Cousin Bess defies norms, such freakish will;
A dazed mess about her I can’t even explain…
Whenever late, she blames the neighbor’s cat
For tearing the seams of her outlandish dress .
But we have no kitties along our street…
And she gives excuses, displaying waves of fur,
That are tangles from her soaked hair in bad dye
While she faces the mirror, “Yes, I’m the dame!
Until her face cracks , puffed with layered rouge.
Oh, more bedlam quakes when a grandchild asks
If dear cousin is a walking antique;
“ Don’t ever dare think I‘m that old,” vain Bess fumes…
Everyone giggles inside as chaos runs wild,
Upon hearing her sixty-five year old joints squeak!
To prove the household wrong, she rocks and rolls
Fluttering with a mop, the radio blasting on,
Her eyes crazed by an Elvis' bebop tune…
No, no, quirky Bess’ knees lock from asthma,
Into the hospital we race, forgetting her wig!
Brian Davey’s Contest: Cousin Chaos
6/10/2016
The virus be it chicken or pig
Do we not our own graves dig
Mess about with natures course
All we do is make things worse
Germs and strains mutate
Just what will be our fate
What are the scientists saying
When will man stop playing
Was not so long ago
The air was pure as snow
It is time to act not grieve
And clean the air we breath
You really think you know it all
You think your so smart
Than why do you sometimes stall
Than don't want to start
You throw at me suggestions
Circling around what i asked
It was a simple question
And they say that you are fast
I think you have tried to fool everyone
With your so called known for knowledge
Fooling around with people isn't called fun
Tell the truth you really didn't go to collage
Some say you know how to spell
Others say your typing the best
Maybe those people are not feeling well
Cause sometimes you make my pages a mess
So do i write to fast for you
Really what part didn't you understand
I said yes he knew
Not yes he can
Some say your the best
My friends nicknamed you the world brain
Well i think you can be a real pest
And i think my friends are insane
Like maybe i should loan you out
Let my friends try you for awhile
Soon as they see how you mess about
We will see if they still smile
For now i will ponder the thought
Giving you the benefit of the doubt
So don't mess up a lot
Or its a guarantee your out
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