The body-personal will be achieving little today.
Today is a too tight T-shirt.
Bloat and insomnia
have measured and found soft round toads
croaking in the swamp of being.
There are squawky
oral articulations in dry joints.
A fate has made its presence known
revealing pre-set mousetraps
strewn upon the path of well laid plans;
it warns obliquely of dentures mechanically
nibbling on stale cheese.
Knowing the hours will belch
and empty-out air that could have
breathed new life into words,
Perceiving that chattering mind-children
will cross the distracted mind
without a crossing guard,
be bowled over, squashed, spread
over neural highways,
their scant electric membranes
dissolving and denuded
leaving a sticky residue
over the body personal...
then that body
must retire and regroup
into a proto-cognizance,
a glow of phosphorescence
too primal to be snared,
yet able to predict
when it can get out of itself -
hopefully.
Bathing in the gutter,
squawky little fellas.
Having fun in the sun
Colourful Rosellas.
Splashing sprays of water,
peeping from above.
Here they come and there they go,
species showing love.
They have their place; the wonderfuls,
which is the trees and sky.
Though making friends they seek to do,
streaking wings pass by...
Yes Hello Birdies; little souls
I love to watch you winging
Your melodies such spellodies
For you my heart is singing.
The parrot tribe forge their mark
Stimulating words-
They try their best to connect,
Learn a lot from birds.
Oh, finely feathered fellow
with plumage of green and yellow,
your Houdini-esque abilities
and astounding circus-like agilities
make my flabby jowls drop with surprise
at how easily your hooked beak can prise
any dwarf-sized opening in your cage,
to open so easily, under your gauge.
Your stuffed, fat, feathered body can
fit through anything. Yes, I'm a fan.
Your squeaky, squawky, shrill talking
lets me know my efforts you're mocking
as I try to burglar proof your cage
as you shriek at me in indignant rage.
You really should hope that I succeed
because if I don't, the cat you'll feed.
04/04/2013
~~~ for Suzanne's Synathroesmic Cat contest ~~~
hidden behind
the lovebird's pretty plumage
is a squawky voice
the once curious cat
hides underneath the bed
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