Short Papier Poems

drainpipes rattle on
as the downpour cleans the walk
papier-mâché news
so much for coupons
today is full price...

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Hello dear Papier Ma’che papoose.
Do you use paprika on your plums?
Babies do not talk, papoose thought.
This grandma must be all kinds of dumbs....

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gazing toward eternity’s echoing faze
clouds torment in papier mache gloom
winds of destiny massage in propelling vibrations
trees and grasses disperse, adhering, dancing in rhythmic tune ...............

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Flimsy tissue paper bliss, 
gift wrapped wafer-thin
  promises midst kisses,
glued together with
    yesterday's adhesive, 
fallen as separate shrouds
   in wayward glances &
   capricious charades razing 
     death do us part illusions 
   of finale's papier-mâché knots...

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Papier mache love
Fragile   torn         
Splashed in hues of beauty
With bitterness and scorn
She hides her face   Unwilling
In truth of lustful lies
Unknowing    his love is taken
Within her deceitful eyes



______________________________

Original Post 10/18/14
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Heaven's drunkard is the butterfly,
Tipsy on flowers, Mr. flutter-on-by:
Papier-mache wings wafting along,
He flies on currents of invisible song.

He could stop but the flowers are so many,
Beckoning with pastel faces of plenty;
At night he dreams of hot-house bouquets,
And dances with them, a fine polonaise....

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Erinnerungen werden wach
Verloren im Dickicht der Zeit
Mitleidlose Vergangenheit

Flüchtige Schrift auf gelbem Papier
Tagebuch vergangener Jahre

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Memories awake
Lost in the thicket of time
Past without pity

Non-persistent letters on yellow paper
A diary of bygone Years...

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Distorted gnashing puppet teeth
Not my face not my face 
My limbs are tied by spider webs and I am floating
Why are they staring 
They are not staring 
But why are they staring 
What do I look like?
Why do I look like that? 
Papier-mâché heart crumples and the face melts under the pressure of streams from the eyes 
Whose tears are these? 
Hopeless...

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All who lie - need,
creative people lie all the time,
either to themselves or others.

They may claim, that this is 'My Truth'!

They may say,
that this is my very soul,
I have made it for you
out of papier mâché and toothpicks,
it represents my pain or joy
or whatever.

Don't be fooled,
they have constructed a truth
that is not a bit like them,
what they paint, write or sculpt
is a need
and all who lie need to Need....

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Being lost and alone
Will cost you your home
Assistance, cannot accept
Feeling so, inept
Not the nature of this beast
Want no instructions in the least
Without direction one must know
To make a way and steal the show
Papier-mâché your favorite mate
Dress it up and make a date
When they strive
You can arrive
Best intention will they see?
Or scary psycho then they flee
Way up and out into the sky
She didn’t even know she could fly....

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We’ve painted your smile disarming
Your glassy marbles alarming
Ignored your feeble warning, your face blue
We made our very own papier-mache Prince Charming

In what false light you’ve been hung
Your dreams must in harmony be sung
No solos for your tenor voice, honey 
We force your hand on the top rung

From wuthering heights we trumpet
On your trust we rudely strumpet
Don’t resist sweet crumpet, we know best for you
Into infamy now you gladly plummet...

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In a pinch of the slenderest fingers
like tapioca beads to the wind
the mercury fog is popped.
Wild silver happenstance rains down
and settles quiet.  Quiet.
Had my pale head touched the earth
at the moment of it's impact
I would have drowned in the mist.
With slender fingers turned to roots,
hair to moss, blood to sap,
a papier-mache skin to the earth's skeleton
To be popped, by the tenderest finger's of soil embrace
drawn to the sky like tapioca beads to the wind....

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