Short Coupe Poems

Passion fruit
Captive brute
Kiss a loon
At the kissing booth
I want your lying lips
All over my naked truth
One last life memory
Before I slip on the noose
My savage sexuality
Is dying to get sexy and loose...

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aimlessly riding in an old Ford Coupe
radio tuned to sixties country
it's message reflecting our mood
we have our snacks and soda
dad, his six pack of beer
cigarette glowing
no one speaks, it's
our special 
time with
dad...

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Darkness settles 
across the ground
Broken children
softly drown
Gardens of  rigid stars
surround
"Hold me close, God."
The whisper faint
Undaunted still
with no restraint
"Coupe de grace"
the heavens read
With reluctant minds
saids, unsaid....

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Debbie's duck Goosie blew the coop
                                   Went to Gruk got into a coupe
                                         She fell on Mo Jerry
                                       Who managed to marry
                                 An ugly duckling - real duck soup...

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I wish I could stop.

Ending all that my mind brought

Vanishing all the thoughts that never seem to rot

Reckoning up all that I have wrought 

Never seemingly what I first had thought.

             I wish for nothing…

     Not a shred of dread.

    No tear for fear

   Not a coupe to mope

Forgetting what it was to hope

I wish for the end…..And the beginning....

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Baby bird, your time has come
To fly away from where your from
The time is now, fly from this place
Fly the coupe, don't leave a trace
It may be hard but you need to go
If you don't leave, the world you'll never know
It hurts me, yes, but you need to see
That your future is ahead of you, not here with me
This Heaven will turn to Hell if you stay
So fly away now, I have nothing left to say...

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I hold my sword in my hand.
Wield it with skill and precision.
Watching my opponents.
Knowing when to advance,
Lunge.
Slight Attaque au fer to start.
Parry.
Waiting for that opening.
Passe.
Passbackwards.
Parlee.
Position is everything.
Knows well.
 passbackwards.
Feint.
There lunge, in vein.
With quick step, yielding parry.
Prise de fer.
Coupe.
Under the intellect of
My pen.
My sword.
Touché....

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In '29 -- Betty Boop 
 In '34 -- Marx Bros. 'Duck Soup'  
  In '39 -- Benny Goodman's Jazz Group
   In '49 -- Chevrolet Hardtop Coupe
    In '59 -- the Hula Hoop 
     In '69 -- Joplin, Hendrix, and Woodstock's musical groups
      In '79 -- psychological encounter groups
       In '89 -- Jordan, Magic & Larry, and NBA hoops
        In '99 -- Chicago's Loop
         In 2009 -- tea party splinter groups
          In two-oh-one-nine -- Will it be Poetry soup?...

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