Chick - Chick - Chick - Chick - Chicken!
Write a little verse for me.
You've got romance in you
To share for all to see.
Chick - Chick - Chick - Chick - Chicken!
There's no need to shy away.
Let the juicy ink get flowing
Steam a saucy verse today!
As you've said, I'm Chick - Chick - Chicken
Could my face burn brighter red?
I'm afraid these special verses
Are only for my book and in my head.
So... this little Chick - Chick - Chicken
Will keep clucking on her funny way.
If she stews some saucy verses
She will send them to you private-lay...
The unspoken pain that lingers in the soul.
Regret stews like a pot in the kitchen,
simmering with drug-filled decisions.
The tallest towers
are stacks of unwashed dishes
in a sink of despair.
Cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling
catch flies buzzing against the wall.
The timer on the oven
blinks at me often,
yet refuses to be used at all.
The faucet drips
in unison with the tears that fall.
Magnets on the refrigerator
hold the lyrics of a forgotten song.
The aroma of fresh coffee
from an old pot
dances through a broken nose.
A table stained with memories
stands where the chairs
can no longer bear the weight.
Cracks in the flooring
run all the way through.
Blue paint drips
where the floor
no longer meets the wall.
I am the storm that you chase
The blond tornado with stilettos red
You like my figure and pretty face
I could care less if you were dead
What is it about denim denial
That gives you such a ruby rush
Not equally yolked we fight wild
This is no ordinary lavender love
Lightening in my eyes doesn’t surprise
Reacting to teal thunder in your voice
We fuss and fight until one of us cries
Ending this seems the logical choice
But like a moth to golden flame
As a magnet I’m attracted by power
I have when I say your name
And the gifts for me you shower
I’m the one that got away in heart
Yet still stews in your mahogany mind
When we kiss there’s a silver spark
That no where else I can fuchsia find
I have these manly hands,
Not pretty, not soft.
They hold firewood well though,
A fall from my child, They'll stop.
These hands are feeling tired,
Once again learning the land.
In suburbia tools are accessible,
Easy to come by and less elements to withstand.
There is home in the bush for me,
The open skies call my name.
The ease and the convenience repels me,
Leaving me in debt, emptiness and shame.
A real woman, I feel within me.
Whatever my definition is.
She uses muscle and heart,
Holds faces, smiles and finishes with a kiss.
This woman within me,
She walks up hills and creates life,
She nurtures and toils,
Prays for seedlings to flourish in sunlight.
I forgot how sacred she was.
Her beauty, it glows from the inside.
Unable to be seen by the empty,
When in process she tends to hide.
She stews in her fire,
Her brain hot and her hands clenched.
Ripping out the unneeded,
Hair behind her ear, sweaty, opening a beer while sitting on a bench.
What a woman she was,
Not everyone's cup of tea.
Despite all of the attempts to run,
This woman came back to me.
THE CROSSOVER BLUES
POILIEVRE GETTING BAD NEWS
AND PIERRE JUST STEWS
I have a vision
For you and I
Where you don’t yell
And I don’t cry
We chat and chat
All eyes stay dry
We conversate
From morn, til nigh
We share our views
No anger stews
No need to fight
It’s just us two
You’re not wrong
And, I, not right
Two lovers speak
It’s pure delight
Opposing sides
Don’t cause rage
Un tainted pride
We both see beige
It’s never only
Black or white
For, dark is lonely
Minus light
We share a reason
And a rhyme
No fearful pleasing
Or toeing lines
At the end
Of the day
Two best friends
Would walk away
Mouldy,
whiff of hue’d leafs,
wind chill fall nose lodger,
yet hearty soup, pies, stews, spiced waft,
beckon
The soul deepens night
shadows swell as sorrow stews
silencing insight
in the hours most forsaken
when heart only hears echoes
Darkness folds inward,
into a starless cavern
cloistered yet alive
with what a closed eye can't see
when the spirit walks alone
Just before the dawn
when the blackness feels complete
the soul flares with fire
in the void it finds solace
a flame that was always there
Forgot to wait for it
Fcking got me again
Let my guard way too far down
Didn't even see this one begin
These chemicals got us on lock
With the hardest chains to break thru
It's like I'm walkin in this haze with you
Waiting for the chaos to ensue
All it takes is a tiny little attitude
And the war stews
Explosions all around me...
I'm so confused
Didn't even know pain is my only truth
What am i supposed to do?
Apparently I have no clue...
It's a circle I can't seem to get around
Slamming my head into the corners
Of this reality
Wtf do yall want from me??
Everytime I think I'm figuring out what this life is all about
Sht gets all flipped upside down
Kuz I guess my face supposed to keep a frown
Life is pain?
Or was it love?
Both kinda work
If I don't catch the bluff..
When is enough enough?
Why is getting through this so damn rough?
When will my heart be tough enough
To know not to trust??
Like.....f*cckk
At least give me some time
To readjust
Like..I blink once..blink twice
Bam!!
Ima b*tch again
I was still on the page
Where we lovers AND best friends
Guess my pace a little too slow
...idk
Free my soulllll!!!
shorts,white socks
sandals and panama-
winter-white legs
no wind,blue skies
dozing in a deckchair-
my afternoon tea stews
hottest day of summer
flying ants on high-
a swallows' drive by
summer-days ever-lasting
memories so tender-tasting
Dear God, on this Thanksgiving Day,
I bow to you and humbly pray.
Thank you, Lord, that my mind is clear
and that I know the day is here.
Thank you, Lord, for the gift of life
Even though it’s tainted by strife.
Thank you for freedom and for peace
And for law enforcement police.
Thank you for family and friends
and for the joy their presence lends.
Thank you that I can see and hear,
their faces and their voices clear.
Thanks for meats, pies, veggies, and stews
but more than these for teeth to chew.
Thanks for the system to digest
the fusion foods my mouth ingests.
Thank you for limbs and feet to walk
For lungs to breathe and tongue to talk.
Thank you for health and strength to strive,
and for a working car to drive.
Thank you, dear God, for a good job,
So, to eat, I don’t have to rob.
Thanks for the home in which I live
and for the many gifts you give.
Above all, thank you for your Son
And for the victory He won.
Upon the cross, He died for me
But when He rose He snatched death’s key.
Give me a grateful heart each day
and help me in your love to stay.
So, one day I can feast with Thee
when this world is from sin set free.
Allow me to share my news
About my defiant missing muse
She has the big time muse blues
I should have seen the clues
Though to discuss she did refuse
I told her ‘to put on her big girl shoes’
Make a decision …. ‘you choose’
With attitude she said ‘ well, you lose’
Walked away with a look that left a bruise
She is now whooping it up on a cruise
Heading to the land of kangaroos
Drinking way, way too much booze
I hear she’s sporting two new tattoos
Without her my poetry sits and stews
My flame softly flickers yet no fire pursues
So , understandably her behaviour I will excuse
If she just comes back and lights my fuse!!
The grand cosmos gifts us
With both mystery and discovery.
While the intellect grows with more
Questions, by an insistent curiosity.
If one follows the graphics of science,
Depicting the remnants of time and space.
We might find galactic stews brewing, in a
Temporal tube that seems to lead to no place.
Yet while we can see an ongoing expansion,
Our own neighborhood seems infinitely small.
As we appear in a sliver of this time cone,
Where grand movements dictate the next fall.
Through all of this cosmic radiation,
Our lives witness the passage of time.
And while we struggle among the minutia,
An elusive big picture evades any crime.
Songs from a life, sounds like the blues,
microwave fries, pot noodle, stews,
dead on two legs, only half-nine,
saying yes, to the overtime,
this months rent and the kids' new shoes.
Paying forward, paying your dues,
when there isn't much left to lose,
longing for friends, weekends and wine,
songs from a life.
Cut price make up covers the bruise,
somewhere hard cash, won't look for clues,
warning the kids to keep off-line,
praying tomorrow, turns out fine,
unreported on last nights news,
songs from a life.
he was a bullfrog we called him Twos.
no idea why, except he was slimy as glues.
once upon a time he crawled out of my shoes.
listening to him now, as he sings the blues.
feeling sad, morose, sorrowful, irritated, sang Twos.
today my wife burned my flies inside my swamp stews.
my tongue is on fire, and I cannot find my booze.
shall strum another song, and sing you some more blues.
sorry you are sad, I said to my bullfrog, Twos.
is there any way I can help you get out of these blues?
maybe you could go get me fresh stew and some booze?
for a bulldog, he is pushy, this guy we call Twos.
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