sernetta was strange I thought, an oddball.
born with a caul I heard, born with a caul.
on the afternoon of the Omaha Squall.
she made a date with her cousin squirrely Paul.
frankly I think this took tremendous gall.
paul came to the date wearing a pink wig and shawl.
maybe this crazy pair is a matched set after all.
sernetta arrived dragging a worm-infested U-haul.
during this first date, they started a flat out brawl.
sernetta called paul a crawling bawling doll.
paul yelled that sernetta was abnormally tall.
I heard this all while cowering in a restaurant bathroom stall.
hearing these shouts echoing down the hall.
i tried not to hear it, my ears next to the wall.
oddly enough, they got married today in Carpenters Hall.
so, am I right that sernetta is a real oddball?
Weirdo
Oddball
Crazy
I hear the words and I remember
When I used to use these adjectives
On myself
Now if I do this, it is with affection
Because I finally have grown into my purpose.
Understanding my talents has meant this .....
these words have lost their negative connotations.
I am an artist, artists can be weird, odd, and crazy.
I am a poet and a cartoonist. These terms legitimize my works.
Weirdo
Oddball
Crazy
Words that used to make me cry
Make me smile.
Because I like myself now
Learning my talents has changed everything.
My mind is lost, but I am happy
The mirror sees differently, but I ignore
My favourite colours are mystery, isolation, and quiet
My favourite rhythms are softness, softly, and softer
However, my straight walk is melancholy concrete hard
My yearn is in the Winter Snowstorm of a Pink and Green Anniversary
The tears are invisible, and the ocean crashes through my façade in multiple units of salty measures
Yet and still I present my head in this unique period of battered aging
My mind is found, but the 'x' is still the CAPITAL
Two Freaks
Two freaks sat by the side of the road.
Ostracized by all their kin.
People laughed as they passed by;
At the very sight of them.
One was twisted in body and soul;
With hair like a dandelion.
The other sat quoting sonnets of old;
He was quite diseased of mind.
One had hands that were crooked and gnarled.
The other the face of a child.
One ate grass like the beast that he was;
and murmured and groaned and growled.
The other put violets in his hair;
And swore to be good and kind.
To Pray to God and remember those;
Society left behind.
He quoted Longfellow, Shakespeare too,
Matthew, Luke and Paul.
The other wallowed in the mud.
And didn't care at all.
And so they lived by the side of the road;
With so much valor and poise.
One fool making love to life.
The other making noise.
Then came a day when folks didn't laugh.
They came with ropes and guns.
And did what seems and awful thing,
But a thing that had to be done.
For in this weird, unhappy world;
It is a sin to sing.
They murdered the gentle poet,
And crowned the Monster king.
I was a little girl with a tattered ragdoll,
and I lived in an attic that was not tall;
in fact, there were parts where I had to crawl.
I liked to play make-believe till nightfall,
and write- so I wrote on the wall;
listening to dreamy gentle rainfall . . .
and on that wall, oh yes, I did scrawl.
Then in the morning I heard Mom call,
she beheld my wall writing in great appall;
oh yes indeed, it was my curtain-call . . .
Mom left and returned with a can of spray Lysol.
I want you to clean it and I mean all,
and went away muttering- I was a bit oddball;
so I cleaned it and then lay on my bed, I recall
crying and holding my tattered doll.
____________________
February 8, 2017
Poetry/Rhyme/A Bit "Oddball"
Copyright Protected, ID 17-873-515-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
ODDBALL.
I couldn't see you close,
When you were here before,
you are in a special world,
your flawless skin makes you exclusive,
your slender light body floats
I yearn to be beautiful like you,
I'm stuck in this gruesome island,
I am an eccentric,
This not my type of a world,
my tarred skin makes me sinister,,
I wish I had a grip on my situations,
so that I could enter your world,
which is indeed beautiful,
I desire for your attention,
You are so special.
Creep.
When you were here before
Could'nt look you in the eye
You're just like an angel
Your skin makes me cry
You float like a feather
In a beautiful world
I wish I was special
You're so special
But I'm a creep,I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here.
I don't care if it hurts
I wanna have control
Iwanna be a perfect soul
I want you to notice
When I'm not around
You're so special
I wish I was special
But I'm a creep,I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here
I dont belong here.
'
Contest:Creep.
Sponsor:Silent One.
18/11/2016
What about this year,
where will I go
I'm not like them
They're just for show!
I'm losing heart
I used to care,
they never write
or call, or share!
The persons that I love the most
are far too busy to play host
it just goes on ~ year after year,
they're doing well, while I'm just here!
My friend will stop
she always does,
a heart of gold,
a long lost "cuz!"
It makes me sad
why bother then
she has her own
I'm just a friend!
A relative must need a home
somewhere, someone, belongs, unknown,
I wish them welcome, cost not prone
a homeless soul feels lost, alone!
I'll go out in the streets and ask,
God not forsake ~ iconoclast,
still in the Word, my meal's repast
who would come in ~ (they'll think they're last!)
This way must be the better then
to truly share ~ a lonely yen
the homeless season, seems to fend
on times called "Holidays" commend!
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