They churn and tumble into themselves.
A table with elbows on its legs.
There’s something left of decaying orchids.
When they sway because of the living room.
That plaster, bloop.
Fresh and horrible.
Stepping outside like traveling to a place where you become a brick.
Swaying, puttering, and plastering.
They churn and tumble into bowling balls.
Levels of them.
I had a kaleidoscope that one time.
Set it down and maybe someone else bought it.
As a kid, if I fell down
and grazed my knee,
my Mum, she would attempt
to comfort me,
with a sticky plaster and, 'There, there,'
to which I'd reply,
'Where, where? Here?'
'No, there,' she'd sigh,
'But where's there?'
inquisitive as always, I would ask,
as a sensitive, yet difficult, child,
I was quite the task,
with cuts, bruises and sprains,
more than a handful, no less,
otherwise, born to run wild,
a piece of work in progress.
Disasters impaired us
Our Pastors prepared us
Broadcasters just scared us
We're Plastered in Paris!
For the most part, the lost years were self-inflicted.
The foundation was made of hypersensitivity.
Which had a foundation of insecurity.
Which had a foundation of instability.
Which, in turn, was born within
the whisper of a black veil.
The hypersensitivity was replaced by wet plaster,
Allowing for the smoothing of the wrinkles of living.
I'm slowly coming around now, back into the light of the light.
Its and absurdly cautious plight...
I've yet to master the fine art of happiness.
Every moment an exhausting sparring match.
With black veils and battle axes.
Thank God that plaster is very slow to dry.
Yesterday I used a plaster
For a small cut
Now I use a plaster
For light muscle pains
Suddenly I feel that I want to use a plaster
For an ugly scar
That cannot be erased
Or fade easily
And tomorrow maybe I'll use a plaster
For sorrow and grief
Maybe a plaster from the Almighty God
Maybe a magical plaster of love
To cure pain caused by sorrow and grief
That come my way
That cannot be avoided
That are brought along by fate
say you are master
of what became disaster
problems with plaster
Small piece fell from corner
making me become mourner
need plaster adorner
Pine straw in eaves troughs
water on my deck
so oh well and what the heck
caused wreck on my deck
ite in wreck
plaster fell from ceiling
which really sent me reeling
never appealing
what was revealing
my fanatical feeling
from me were stealing
It's like a noose around my neck
Strapped in a splintered chair
Cast in plaster, stuck like glue
Can't move anywhere
Strangled with monotony
Drowning in routine
Round and round this hamster wheel
A banal race machine
I want to take a hammer
Raise it in the air
Smash this plaster, free myself
Breathe in my own air
Want to cut these straps that bind me
Unstick this binding glue
Remove this noose that holds me still
And get away from you.
I'm summoning my courage
I need to break away
Fight the stark complacency
That holds my soul at bay.
I stand here, a plaster saint,
Somewhere else, I'd be a haint,
A ghost of a distant century,
But I'm a symbol of Christianity,
Or of another faith, you see,
People come to worship with me,
I present to them a gift of faith,
All who pray to be blessed by grace,
No sacred space is ever empty,
The divine is here with you and me,
We're all part of this mystery.........
A oozing interference causes doubt
that everything I care about
is truly not just in my head
where dense dreams are bred
and ignorant sanctuary from what I think I know
about depression, myself, where my thoughts will go
at night, I'm losing the light
brought to me by photocopy hands
proving I'm as malleable as my fears demand
My concept of love is underlined
with overdependent selfish cries
and despite being self aware
i can't bring myself to care
enough to change
not even for us
not for God
hope is not within range
I do not have the proper mod
I have come to believe my eyes are blue
windows to the soul they tell me and you
I guess that's the reason why
I can't bring myself to look into your eyes
all love died with you
when your coffin was interred
my heart built a wall
Senryu on sadness
Sponsored by Laura Loo
checked with how many syllables
09-01-17
Remember this? On March 24, 1989, the Exxon Valdez oil tanker hits a
reef in Alaska's Prince William Sound, resulting in an enormous oil spill.
Though there were no human victims of the crash, hundreds of miles
of pristine coastline became coated with oil and thousands of sea birds, mammals and fish perished in the disaster.
Master of Disaster
At games may be hard to master
Difficult and you did have a disaster
What up next will they try to cook
That like this whole world was shook
And off the wall fell all of our plaster.
James Horn
When I was a kid, home remedies were the thing!
No trip to the doctor for a cold or bad cough..
Mama had a fix for near every hurt, big or small
or in between. The worst, the most dreadful, the
run and hide treatment..the Mustard Plaster!
Some flannel cut into big, big strips...Cover with
mustard until it drips..into the oven to get
steaming hot..then slap that sucker on the spot.
Around your chest, fastened tight..must keep
it hot..althrough the night...It burned, it itched, and it
smelled to high heaven..Who knows if it helped at all..
but I do know that we learned not to voice
minor discomfort..it had to be a real disaster..
cause if you complained.out came the Mustard Plaster!...
His memories congeal and
crucify him to the wall
So he fashions wooden wings,
carving bone from his shoulder blades
soaring hollow through her fingertips.
*Written in exactly 25 words*
My heart aches,
A scorching tinge rips into it,
Stemming from my personal knowledge that you will depart soon,
My only wish is for you to stay,
For you to return,
My greatest fear being that you will not,
My memories of your subtle touch
My memories of your beard brushing,
Against my carefully blushed cheeks,
The way you held me while singing that band,
Which we share appreciation for,
Gentle yet harsh tears,
Roll delicately down my smooth skin,
I know that there is no replacement,
For your touch,
For your romantic motions,
For you,
Only you,
Have been plastered,
To the inner crevices of my mind.
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