Bistro blowhards jump around in Johnny time
Bota bing bota bang Bota bang bota bing.
Dendrites are clicking, where did they get teeth?
Who invited them anyway? Gray matter coughs.
Fishnet stockings fairly frolic along my brain highway.
My soul shuts herself off, not wanting involvement.
I am on pizazz power; polka dotted persimmon pot pie.
No one better ask me anything or even give me a look.
What’s happening? My eyes wonder. They are on fire.
My throat is tight, wearing a girdle of ridiculousness.
I keep my mouth in a straight line, figuring out nothing.
Sharing no secrets or ideas, closing down for self-protection.
Now I lay me down to sleep
Dear Lord, allow me, my head to keep?
Insane Taliban, coming to our shores,
Heavy padlocks on all my doors!
If one Killer, into my house comes,
Beneath my pillows, I do have a gun.
Will use it too, without reservation!
I intend to stay alive, in this American national
9/20/2021
There is a child in me,
she hides way down beneath,
the adult in me.
She saw awful things,
she felt many painful things,
and heard many harsh things.
The adult in me,
always attempts to protect her,
but there are times I fail.
That is when,
the adult in me,
cries for the child,
that I once was.
My tears remember,
the pangs of distress,
for the child,
who can never rest.
An unstable globe
One nation will toil and groan
Injustice for all