Short Slovenly Poems

Slovenly it looks
like it was never cared for;
the kuramo beach...

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slovenly and ill-kempt but happy
we decided to make him snappy
we did it our way
thought he would be gay
now he felt less than himself, and crappy...

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sluggish
slovenly
sloth-like

Procrastinating, napping,
Full of fried fast foods
Forgetting what optimism feels like

Age has sneaked up and overtaken her...

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Under the Broom


Listen to my screwy code
No thief may download:
To conceal from rookies	
Under brooms I keep keys;
Knowing, the slovenly lot
Will never touch the rot!


JM

04th March 2014...

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Five pounds heavier today than the week before.
Does that make sense?  Could I ask for more?
The same doctor’s scale both of the times? 
Am I hiding grapefruit?  Have I hidden limes?
Five pounds heavier from Tuesday since last Friday?
I am feeling a bit slovenly.  Not tidy....

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Mind has many doors
At times it's an unknown peninsula
A labyrinth at closer look.
Move scum slovenly
Or else you'll lose yourself
Dreams,swarming feelings
Make a slough of despondency
A slog of sorrow
Marshy land
Squirm through closed doors
Of turbulent mind
Hearken, mind murmurs
And get lost with 
The way of the world....

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The grey mist glissening on my brow,
as I step outside to a horrendous "MEOW",
hours of dawn,
and a cat lay slovenly on my back lawn,
wet, crystal, damp, lawn,
feline lay still,
for you couldn't hear a pin drop,
the dew,
the dew lifted,
breaking dawn,
now the sun has risen,
happy cat no longer hissing,
for now all thoughts as to what is missing....

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I used to know a poet. His slovenly disheveled poems reminded me an alcohol-prone loser’s beard, but in person he happened to be a clean-shaven, well-tailored gentleman who hasn't had a drop since Bicentennial. And sometimes it's just the other way round: aristocratic rhymes on closer examination turn into dipsomaniacs.

poets and their poems
don't resemble each other -
poets die poems don't...

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Monday madness mauled my meandering melancholy mind
Tuesday tinkered tactlessly through tainted thoughtless taunts
Wednesday went without wonderful words whispered willingly
Thursday tempting taunting the tigresses to truant
Friday frivolously featured fruitful freaky fun frolics
Saturday simmered signifying sumptuous sultry spectacular scenes 
Sunday slow slovenly siesta singing sunny songs...

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Smell of decay oozing out of its countenance
Lacks manners or good hygiene all round the clock
Overlooks the negative reactions shown by others
Violent in approach, sub-zero in character
Everyone around closes their minds, noses and hearts
Negating all attempts of socializing and interaction
Low, so below is this personality kept
Yet basks in its dirt, carelessness or repugnant features....

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We first laugh our heads off
Before weeping our eyes out,
First nice suggestions scoff
Before their richness we tout,
First charges deny publicly
And later admit them “As Likely”
Praise-worthy hygiene show openly
Soon behind doors The Slovenly
First, issues make an emotional thing
Before picking their sober ring,
First ourselves stretch drowsily
Before folding mats lazily,
First in restaurants eat our fill
Before remembering the sure bill....

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RANCID DAISY IN THE ROOM
Can you smell,
that rancid daisy in the room?
As it reeks,
before it speaks.
Putrid unapologetically,
foul so foul bravely.
It used to complement my senses,
from fragrant to pungent vagrant.
The tangent slovenly,
the regality frugal.
Can you smell,
that rancid daisy in the room?
That chokes,
more than cyanide.
More than dioxin,
oh what a toxin.
I swear I can surely smell it,
so elated I am far away from it.
LiterarySpaceAfrica  Ian Munywe©...

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