I took an unexpected trip to Accidental city,
bruised ribs, torn ligaments, a state most
would pity..
Yesterday I experienced a trip and a fall on
uneven asphalt outside a local mall..
There weren't any witnesses to observe
my little feat.
I focused on getting back up and safely
from the street.
My left hip's been iffy for quite awhile so
I pulled myself up in a downward dog style..
If it were only a few bruises I would just
say tsk tsk but once up I realized my pelvis
I had twist..
After reporting it to security I went directly home.
A night with heat and arnica and several mournful moans..
I could bear weight on my right leg so I hobbled thru the day,
until I discovered if I walk my left foot side ways, it keeps the pain at bay..
The author of this poem is still hobbling and hurting so
would some one out there kindly get up and close my curtain?
The king
Not a royal,
Yet he was a king,
Rocking and rolling,
You sang,
Black hair, blue eyes and that quiff,
Gyrating pelvis, those moving legs,
The oldies not keen,
Girls going wild plus the odd boy too,
The voice of a god, so good looking,
He was an actor to,
Died way to young,
Will always be known,
The King of rock and roll.
This pathway is doubly dangerous
That one who cuts my stitches
A tad too short
Is the same who reaches
Carelessly too close
To that dreadful corona mortis
God’s own anatomical variant
A beautiful but fearful anastomosis
A marriage of a sweet obturator
And a rather inferior epigastric
My ultimate dream
Is to broach and to ream
That sweet canal
So I ignore that fire
Set on my path
I size up the breadth and girth
Of a choice that was never fair
Whatever it takes, I swear
I won’t stumble into oblivion
Neither will I sway into varus
Until my tools are packed
And my destination reached
Mine will be a glorious tale
With an ending marked
By an exaltation of larks
Hands steady as a rock
Eyes keen as a hawk
I fear neither the dark nor the cold
I will push and I will reach
For that prize of gold
My heart will sing
When I restore with my knife
So never ever forget my name
For this will not be my last dance
In this dark pelvis of life!
the bottom of the hour
glass is passed
for a
dented flask
that still holds sway
***
His pelvis thrusts
awkward gyrations of a sickly man
Bruised sternum erupts will cream filled pustules
Enema pleasing dissidents fond of enigmatic words
Cursed with knowledge, forsaken with guilt, humbled with life
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