Short Plastering Poems

Plastering is done from top
but it's built from foundation
corruption also starts from top
removing will save nation....

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Peter Pumpkin petted pink panthers' paws
Plastering purple push pins on pissed poetess
Producing panic in preheated porridge pot...


***Entry for Gwendolen’s  "Big Kid Tongue Twister” contest***


(My friends still display a twisted and  frozen smile... LOL!!! so the pie's for me)...

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A keyboard gigolo
works on his profile.
He photoshops a younger him,
plastering the Net
with his winsome smile.

Is he very different
than the little lies
we share in real time?

Best face forward,
but under our hands
we are digitizing
a pseudo existence.
one more acceptable
to the rigors
of a life-long
hard sell....

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They are telling us we need to be cured.

They are telling us they are trying to keep us comfortable.

By plastering us with sticky bandages as if we are mummies.

They say we are decrepit mummies from a tomb.

And we will fall apart without their help.

They say we are undead and useless.

But a cure is on the way.

A cure is insidious.

A cure is vengeance....

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death's stood in the doorway
but i'm no good with words
so my pleas for mercy
come in the form of
fresh bandages on old wounds
and plastering my vices on greeting cards

though the reaper argues
that if there was any value
in a butterfly whose wings
are pinned to a corkboard
or a soul with one foot in the grave
and the other being fed to wolves
he'd carry his mercy in spades...

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Prancing through midnight fire
I called my soul to surrender
She laughed
Diabolically

Shocked at my daring
and my failure to train myself
even in death, I pulled out the big guns
Plastering her with truth in leaden forms

She refused to comply
Making me angry, but also
infuriating me, as I was losing her respect
Which was the only thing I thought I would have in the end

Silly me....

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Scrambling for the happy life
in a stormy sea

The waves seem to rise
a watery high

Screaming to be heard
a noisey roar

The traveling highway
I cannot egnore

Where is my beating heart
which stress is a part

Nature is plastering me
like crazy art
 
Picasso in reverse, retreating,
repeating  vibrations

and I am drowning
in lifes bountious rations

Trouble and woe-zy
that's me from head to toe-zy....

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