Short Flexes Poems

The body ages perceptibly
                         ~ the mind flexes receptively...

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flexes his biceps,

       tucks his flabby tummy in,

              vanity in vain....

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whispering worms taunt
early birds awaken
a cat flexes its claws

John G. Lawless
4/4/2020...

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There's a ripped, good looking guy...
gals, don't assume he's quite and shy!
Watch how he models:
he flexes his muscles...
winking at ladies strolling by!...

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The Wizard of Our-Land reigns supreme
  cloaked in the garments of fear's dreams
He waves his wands, flexes his muscles
  smooths over all problems, as dark winds rustle...

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flexes his biceps
       tucks his flabby tummy in
              vanity in vain

              a score to settle
                     through tough machismo's battle
                           male ego's  title

                           but can't hit his foe
                                spits on his face, oh, no
                                      worse than a KO !...

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demure pink panties
orange in the glow of the streetlights
d
  a
    n
      g
        l
         i
          n
           g
from a petite
cinnamon colored ankle
the bronze back of ghetto lust
flexes and glistens
above the writhing form of sensuality incarnate

battle of the sexes

the incubus versus the succubus
in a seventy-four chevy

write your name on the window
has you pass by...

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THREADS OF DECEIT

The puppet flexes with threads of gold,
the hobby of his mistress to sew.
His wife kneels on impenitent boards, parquet cold.
The puppet flexes with threads of gold.

Scurrying out, floorboards creaking and bold,
he’s grown a larger nose, than the man she once knew.
The puppet flexes with threads of gold
The hobby of his mistress to sew

10/16/2017...

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What is going through his mind?
I do not understand this man sometimes 
He gets mad every time we reconnect with a text
then he flexes with his thumbs typing words,
to hurt me like, a witch casting a hex  
Do you think I should be upset? Or do I forget what he just text?
Should I continue to flex my thumbs, to send a reply? No! 
I will delete his text and erase him from my cell, before it turns into a big mess.

04/18/12...

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What is poetry?
My sister, my brother
My father, my mother
What is poetry?
My nieces, my nephews
My cousins, my best fews
What is poetry?

Poetry is the expression of many expressions
A woman fitted for many dresses
A man of muscle for many flexes
It’s how we talk
It’s how we live
It’s how we breathe
It’s how we give

You can say
You can do
You can be
Anything.
If you can see
Then let me 
Set ye 
Free...

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The ground is white with powdery snow
Thankfully, I have no place I need to go,
The arctic north wind has ceased to blow,
I see one bird outside, a large black crow
He flexes his wings occasionally for show,
In yonder meadow stands a single doe
Despite the frigid cold, she’s wary of a foe,
The fox she saw skulking in a near hollow
All is peaceful, the atmosphere is mellow,
And I feel like an extremely lucky fellow....

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An artist will spew at you,
Verbs  or beats,
Or oils or flexes.
An artist  will want to hypnotize 
With these verbs, beats, oils and flexes.
The reader is a fish, searching  for a flake,
The audience is empty, waiting for 
Notes, and rhythm. 
The critic is an empty canvas swirling
Color to find the intimate connection  that 
Makes an omnipresent black stamp.
And the dance, the patron of the dance,
Together rise and fall, artist forever baiting
Fellow, the master of their bait....

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