Question everything.
Reality is slipperier
Than you might think.
Here, here
Have a drink of some electric Kool Aid
With me. Then, tell me what you think.
While our minds are free to explore
Reasoning and understanding goes
Right out the door and
Weird able too see
Why everything seems so basic.
Life is meant to be fun.
Slipperiness is seeing the world questioning everything, everyone and
Don't be so shocked at what you just might see.
Especially, with me.
Categories:
slipperiness, celebration, nonsense,
Form: Light Verse
The staticky-stars climax under intense blanket of Winter glow.
Your spouse can’t see your spirited green eyes that burn slow.
The friction of campfire sticks, the satiny slipperiness of moon.
Flames of blue, orange and red won’t be overcome too soon.
Pert rose petals, that once were goosebumpy and ice cold,
scintillate like fireworks until the grand finale’s loosed, uncontrolled.
Warm breath in a cold Winter’s steamy and a restless beast.
Lips lavish over late night feast, matches singe, sate increased.
Squirming under the leisurely complement of coals, coalescing,
Coolness of a blue lake vaingloriously countering, distressing.
A long midnight’s thrashing, sans pillory; the high beams foray.
Pillow talk, a sensuous squeeze, a high-diving elixir bouquet.
Ah those stars brilliantly glowing on a long Winter’s night!
Those limbs blush, rose petals crush, with unfettered light.
Categories:
slipperiness, metaphor, sensual, winter,
Form: Couplet
First the snow resembled dust,
A gentle rain of mist,
Falling slowly, with the trust
Of wind to help assist.
Then the little droplets grew
And turned to larger flakes
Covering the windshield’s view;
An hour’s all it takes.
The softness of its fall belies
The dangers that might hide,
For winter precip from the skies
Makes slipperiness outside.
Categories:
slipperiness, snow,
Form: Rhyme
Candle
Wax:
A circle around fire;
Melt it; I burn—
With pastel oils,
That stick.
Scarring stays on;
While in my eyes, my heart
Flickers for more—
(It blushes at its own slipperiness inside)
For within, its gift— to hide.
All tones are the same—
(Dark and darker)
While the fire lets out its
final gasp—
Before all wanes into
Easy flesh.
Categories:
slipperiness, cry, deep, emotions, feelings,
Form: Free verse
Bias has for animals better named Beasts:
Creatures that could us shake in strong seats
They are the ones Satan ably schemes their use
In battles real rather than a ruse…
And he had been chiefly The Selective,
Their offices never The Elective;
A good distance keeps from one this hour
And the next is back for just its power…
For a combat The Beast usable,
Mostly one to Man unthinkable;
An increased tasking of The Reptilian,
Time and again contacting Mammalian…
The scaly slipperiness of snakes
Elusiveness matches that record breaks.
So, it had to be Snake at Eden
To help shape The Question he had asked then.
It was Christ who had Swine linked with him
In a sermon and a hostage to him
But Satan would sooner he wasted one
Than dispatched it to wars that must be won;
Yes, after him, God began to use Snake,
With it dealing with Jews who’d dared rake!
For disgrace of Stoned Godly Naboth dogs:
Nicer than further hitting corpse with logs;
For new slain Christians in fields vulture!
Does trust The Vulture’s Carrion culture…
And A Dragon for Mother and Child
Fire-spitting, Huge Success from being wild.
Categories:
slipperiness, animal, evil, fear, religion,
Form: Rhyme
persians pickled
firm and crunchy,
thin and pint size -
spice them with little red flakes
and briny water.
pack them side by side
in a sparkling jar.
twist, pop that top,
fork-stab those
puckery suckers.
serve:
alongside a sandwich -
perhaps a plump pastrami
or
with dumplings drizzled
with thick and savory gravy
or
combine spears with choice cheese
on an appetizer plate,
pleasing to the palate.
experience the hiss, the crunch,
the sluice of slipperiness —
the bumpy pleasantly-green dill.
2/19/2020
Categories:
slipperiness, food,
Form: Verse
12/28/18
I just received a gift from my {step}mother,
Only three days late this year.
It's a Santa Claus soap dispenser... with a twirl and a twist.
I used to own it well over twenty years since.
It has yellowing soap still clogging the spigot...
*****, you've even treated old Saint Nick like a {step},
How true to your form and fitting that is.
{Step} Santa was more of a message than a gift.
After all, I've been a half-assed {step}son at best.
but {step}mother you must admit, I was always your third-class citizen.
From the brackish affection, impish rags you stapled to my rear,
Minor infractions swiftly met with a belt called, I'll bring you to your tears.
You were the metal toothed snapper in the pond of my youth.
If you deny me this, then you're an abuser of the worst kind
an abuser of the truth!
For the most part, I've freeze dried your slipperiness,
I think {step} is a glacier cold but the perfect prefix.
Categories:
slipperiness, abuse, holiday, mother,
Form: Free verse