She never had a night light or cuddled a doll.
Nobody asked her to dance at the senior prom.
Nobody ever placed the gem of life in her hand.
Mr. Glitter always found her but was never a humble man.
Black angel chasing peace of mind down a glass pipe.
Sometimes death offers more peace than does life~
Healing and dealing
Stealing and reeling
Feeling the feeling
Wheelies down the spillway
Three’s a thrill
Another bill
Still...
I will!
Chill, with the window sill,
Skilled at raiding the mills,
Tilled until everyone who wants a chance can dance until-
The rest are nil haikus 4 reiki suing spells four ewe
I’ll hang with Jill ... s
One may land in hot water
skating where the ice is thin
or end up in a jam
going out on a limb
and hoping to reach a goal
by swimming upstream
could prove no more than a wish
perhaps purely a pipe dream
investing the least
wanting the lion's share
the end result
might induce a scare
woolgathering head in the clouds
unaware of what's around
sounds like fun but more's accomplished
with both feet on solid ground
Evil flute
The evil flute was passed down
Generation to generation
Through the family line
Only a few knowing its power
Everyone else carefree
Until one who used to sit there
Holding grudges against his family
Threw them all in.
Wanting to be king and punish them in hell.
Old fiend
corn cob pipe cowboy
showing us huge joy
honest without being coy
not one to provoke or annoy
feeding him Hawaiian poi
eating beans with extra soy
loving him, my big handsome boy
corn cob pipe cowboy full of joy
Regardless of why I was dying, I’d stopped trying,
Courage dwindling, power idling,
Pursed lips, liquid and glass colliding,
Forming what I viewed as my life’s last attempt at hiding.
Nevertheless, chances were scare,
I’d decided to laugh at gods stretched hand toward my heart.
The unreceived care I’d pushed away through pipes,
The smoke and mirrors I’d danced around at dark.
Through all my pain and suffering I’d experienced throughout my life,
No one else’s soul but mine had the ability to tear me apart.
There once was a mobster named Clyde
Called a Buick Electra his ride
Then an old man named Dom
Made a mighty pipe bomb
And Clyde died being Electrafried!
Years ago I did so choose, to go on a Caribbean clipper ship cruise,
and, in addition to several other islands,
anchored off Nevis, northwest of Saint Kitts,
where, in the late 1780's, Nelson had lived,
and still bears traces of his presence today,
in various parts, pieces and bits.
When our windjammer Skipper informed us,
'Shopping here's good, snorkeling is bad,'
I avoided the former, sought out the latter,
and, as a matter of fact, a good time was had,
for no sooner had I ducked under,
two feet from the waterline,
in about one foot deep (shallow) water,
tho' visibility was, in inches, no more than nine,
I espied a white clay churchwarden pipe,
which I retrieved, broken, not whole,
with one third of the stem, and most of the tobacco-burned bowl.
1787, Nelson married the widow Fanny Nisbet on Nevis,
and, as the island he was about to depart,
'Desist smoking or else!'
Horatio may have heard her insist or impart,
and that which I found, I've a mind to say,
was his very last pipe, he'd reluctantly tossed overboard,
on that sunny day, when, as Captain of Boreas, he sailed away.
The storm water pipe
gaped into open air
from an embankment
where it surfaced
from underground.
The opening was a little
smaller than my childhood height
and they said it stretched
a mile or more but nobody
knew for sure.
A danger sign warned
against entry saying
the pipe was subject to sudden
flooding - a protective grate
had a hole big enough
to crawl through.
I would pause
at its mouth and stare
into a claustrophobic dark.
Hunched, heart racing,
I monkey walked
my way in, listening out
for water, breathing in
the dank air. Deeper
and deeper I would go until
courage left me when
the light from the entrance
faded and all went black.
Hell was there.
It still is.
The pipe major at the front led the way
On this cold and windy St Patrick's day
He was six foot and well built
A freak gust blew up his kilt
The crowd cheered at his manhood on display...
Mr Drain Pipe and Mr Water Tank
Oh I really do hope Mr Drain Pipe and
Mr Water Tank can
reach a
common decision about:
the best garden design (backyard at
this stage), the right shape and colour of
path bricks, the most suitable
hedges, the easiest grass to
maintain.
My neighbor has a new boyfriend
Most nights he arrives
in his little black sports car
to pick up his glittery prize.
His little black sports car
has a big exhaust pipe...
that wakes me up most every night.
Sometimes he parks his little black sports car
in front of my mailbox.
He's pretty buff and has a mean little face
and I'm too old to say anything.
They've been together for about 6 months.
I'm praying that their relationship crumbles.
I'm hoping she meets a skinny nerd with a smart car.
Who doesn't park in front of my mailbox.
I must admit that her long legs are the perfect fit
for a little black sports car with the midnight grin.
Not impossible
Just possibilities
Curious minds unfold
Imagination vibes
Journey through expectancy
Hidden thoughts beyond
Decisions to make
Avoiding any mistakes
Give and take
Dreaming stories
Surprises within realizes
Logic through understanding
Wild as it seems
Wavy streams
One point to several theories
One thing after another
Each dream different from the other
Dare to imagine
Only to dream
Sing for me and make it a cappella,
an album of musical afternoons;
By the light of the old candelabra
with a pitch pipe harness exotic tunes;
Your voice a passport to a far off land
no need for any accompaniment;
Colorful suitcase let me hold your hand
I’m smitten by the vocal enchantment;
That accent so deliciously foreign
I want to lick it clean off of your lips;
When can we go to the airport again?
I revel in all of our first class trips;
The moment the last song is in the air
I’ve begun planning our next overture.
He gifted his girl with a doll
he brought home from every trip.
Oh, how the beauty would enthrall!
Always her heart would flop and flip.
A doll so rigid stiff and straight,
she had to have a pedestal
just to support he couture’s weight!
Her fashions were incredible.
Her essence was molded plastic.
Her hair and eye color unique.
Her formal wear was fantastic,
fairly fashioned of worthy pique.
Each doll distinct in color and dress.
A favorite, a darked-haired beauty.
Her frock of emerald finesse,
not just another frail cutie!
A collection long lost to time
as is each chenille pipe cleaner.
I cherish moments of their prime,
and their glamorous demeanor.
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