Whither shall I go—
Shall I haunt the willow
Drag my nails 'cross thy dewy window
Push the wicker chair to and fro?
These are all terrors that I know
What do the newly dead do
When there is nowhere
We would venture to
Or care feel despair
Or shed boo-hoos
Should I wait in the broom
Closet for you
Radiating gloom
Waiting to shout "boo!"
What do the newly dead do?
They said it would be fun
To watch the frightened run,
But so far that just isn't true
And maybe a little mean
From the little I've seen—
But hey, I'm new;
Maybe just one of the few
Who wishes there was something better
To do
Than scare another bed-wetter
Or ruin a new hairdo—
It's just all so boring
We sit 'round till morning
Then some awful cock crows
Ringing thro' fields and clear 'cross meadows
And everything just turns black—
And it's cold
And there's a smell—
Like putrid mold.
Well,
I guess it's better than hell,
But who the hell knows
Money is the source of all greed
Something we all cherish and need
Everything we own
Most of us suffer and groan
Money is the source of anxiety
Something that divides every society
From the rich to the poor
Have the basic or grandeur
Money is the source of most stress
Something each month that causes distress
From the poor to the working class
Scrape by or in debt perhaps
Money is the source of moderate happiness
Something that can also cause nastiness
Can make you believe you are better
Reality is your lonely and wetter
Money is the source of all evil
Something the church says to stop you meeting the devil
But they ask for it from you
Drain yourself without question or review
Money is the source of madness
Something that causes arguments and rashness
It causes unrest between two
And can undo the glue between you
You’re there in that black dress.
Ready to impress, but it’s my job to do that.
Pushed against the wall flat, I kiss on your neck first, then down to your thighs.
Feeling myself getting aroused at your sweet sighs.
I then reach my destination, and hear you moan at that intense sensation.
Feeling you getting wetter every second, but don’t come.
Because trust me my Love, I’m not at all done.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A crack in the sky
where stars leak through~
not enough to drown the streetlamp,
but enough to remind me
that night is not infinite.
The pavement exhales
its stored heat,
a slow sigh against my shoes.
I count the steps
between here and home.
The distance never changes,
but the air does~
cooler now, wetter,
like the breath of something
waiting just beyond the edge
of what I can see.
Morning is a rumor
circling the horizon.
I walk towards it anyway.
Blizzard is coming
Hailstorm is drumming
How we longed to be wetter.
We’ve been in a drought
We prayed the calm out
Now comes turbulent weather.
Batten the hatches
Prepare the caches
White rage threatens our safety.
Will eating snow bursts
Appease our mad thirst?
Freezing adds to the crazy.
What‘s better than a biscuit?
Hard to debunk
Treasure trunk funk
Should you let
It get wetter
Would you dare risk it?
The trick a quick dunk
Or could flunk..flick..kerplunk..
Mushy chunk sunk..messy junk
Slushy slunk..in the tea you drunk
So at your leisure
Pleasure one’s self
Don’t regret your stealth
Forget your health
Wealth beset on the shelf
So feeling restive?
Yearn for a digestive?
Appealing…suggestive
No shock..dark choc
What else will cut the mustard
With a brew…for a few bob
Recurring theme..does seem
Will always dream
About a custard cream
Almost sob…as I Lob
A hob-nob in me gob
Ta pour more cha
In fine fettle
Be a slob
Turn on the kettle
Bickies in the jar
On the sofa settle
Sins within tins
Spurn concern
Ignore the racket
As
Hats do doff
Knew from the off
On a roll
The sole goal
Quaff another cuppa
Down your cake hole
Scoff the whole packet!
I’m sitting all alone with this empty hole inside,
I can’t seem to stop thinking “it’s always me, I’d rather die”. The voices surround me, crying out my biggest fears. As I sit staring blankly at the wall my eyes are filled with tears. Sometimes I feel no emotion, sometimes I’m filled with dread. I’m angry at myself, but it’s all inside my head. I find it hard to function everyday of my life, Will the time ever come where someone wants me as their wife? I’m very hard to deal with when my moods are up and down. One minute I want to party and the next I want to drown. The doctors think I’m crazy, my family thinks I’m mad. And this is why I like to be alone, is it really all that bad?
Tablet after tablet, nothing seems to get better
The impulsive thoughts inside my mind, my face is getting wetter. Will it ever pass? Will I ever cope? this is BPD. I can’t control my actions. It’s taking over me. One day I’m hoping I’ll wake up and it will all just float away. It’s time to take life day by day and pray I’ll be ok. But until the day I feel normal, I have to keep my head held high. Because I have my whole life left, and I’m to young to die.
They’re ugly and grown yellow
after being used awhile,
and rarely are they seen
except for when I smile.
I have a rare condition
that makes my mouth grow wetter.
I have to use one of these things
just to feel a bit better.
While at the movies one time,
my thing I could not find.
Searching in the darkness,
I almost lost my mind.
Three others like it are at my house.
But my dog on one left a gap.
When finding it, he bit it
and now it is for crap.
Only two are left now.
I worry they’ll get lost,
and to just replace one
is a ridiculous cost.
The other day I took one out
to eat my Subway sandwich.
When I went to put it back in,
I was in a pan-wich.
High and low I searched
everywhere I had been
between the bedroom and kitchen
and then I’d search again.
Then I had the strangest thought,
and though I had some doubt,
my mouthguard I had wrapped inside
the Subway wrapper. I almost tossed it out!
The first, they say, is "puppy love",
You can't be certain how you feel.
How can a heart as young as yours
Decide if what it feels is real?
A heart can age but not grow wise;
Wisdom may not come with years.
And where's the proof that older eyes
Cry more or even wetter tears?
Age shouldn't dictate when you love,
Just trust your heart to lead the way,
And leave it up to love to prove
That it won't lead you far astray.
Love can be real and no less pure,
Even if it has no past.
Each time I fall in love I'm sure
It's for the first time and the last.
Stormy days can be scary
if you have lived through a bad storm
you should be wary
but that is not the norm
Thunder, lightening, lots of rain
the flowers, grass, and trees
have lots to gain
as they soak in ease
A stormy Sunday is even better
Because you can rest
without getting wetter
Stormy, restful days are the best
I f*cking love the rain.
Storms are even better.
I love to hear of your canceled plans
As you stand there, getting wetter
I adore the miserable faces it brings
To everyone but me
I ache for the sound of chain it makes
As it rattles absently
If my friend is joined by thunder, lightning, floods and all;
I feel awash and truly blessed,
By the sway of it all
What occurs so blissful to me
in the symphony of splash,
Is the the 200 voices that are in my head;
Concur rather than clash
"Aywa, aywa, aywa niq kusy." She softly whimpered.
He kept going at her while making her so much wetter.
He began breathing on her neck while panting harder and faster.
Usually don't know if I'm coming or going
A confused old dude is what I mean
Even sometimes put the cart before the horse
Makes for an real interesting scene
So now you know, I have finally confessed
Can't keep it a secret any longer
I'm quite a bit different from you other dudes
I'm a certified strange kind of author
See things differently than most normal folks
Have a weird way of looking at things
Perhaps you've noticed, never thought to ask
Just the way my pendulum swings
Absolutely happy in this delusional state
Too afflicted to know any better
Kind of embarrassing to tell you guys this
Still known to be a naughty bed-wetter
So let's get serious, my dear dear friends
I'm as normal as the rest of you
Wait, that's not sounding too much better
Think we're all a big bunch of kooks
In the realm of self-interest, a curious soul,
Could not adhere stamps, sans wit owning a role.
His tongue, like a rover in arid terrain,
Lingered on whimsy, a scoffing refrain.
Precision eluded, in blindfolded dance,
Tongue franking an effort, missing each chance.
The stamp, a library of lore unbespoke,
His tongue still meandered, lost in each stroke.
Like giraffes when they strain ~ reaching treetops,
His sealing endeavor was a clumsy hopscotch.
The stamp lay there mocking, a coaxed witticism,
Tongue still missed the mark, a terrible tourism!
Metaphors clung, but not on the letter,
A longing unfilled, his tongue never got wetter.
The envelope sighed, craved wit's lifting brew,
Yet his tongue frolicked, having wandered no clue.
He licked and he slurped, as though miming delight,
A grand postal crime, a federal plight!
Metaphors piled up, unsent missives distressed,
His sense of himself was a bewildering behest.
In the spirit of levity, a story confided,
A stamp unadhered, a metaphor provided.
When engaging with mail, overcome by caprice of,
Just leave the attempt and go buy self-adhesive.
His eyes seem to tell her:
O not so wrapped in winter,
Be a bit bolder,
And in rains wetter,
Beauty’s for the beholder,
Pray, do not deter,
Why I love summer,
The greatest garment hater,
A season topper!
Nature’s the best wear
And skin the best of garment,
An all-season wear!
That’s beauty that reigns,
Like gold that forever gains,
But your dress restrains.
Not clothes, I love you,
How much? Like depth of sky blue,
Raindrops, sands on sea.
You count and re-count,
Recount, love’s hard to account,
I’ve tried, lost my count.
I love to await
Your arrival at the gate—
The joy just to wait,
There’s joy in waiting,
Thrill to see you arriving,
Hug, much less kissing.
So, come rains on date,
Cool my heart that it can wait
If she’s not so late.
But not pouring rains
That remind me of past pains
Whose sting long remains.
Get her a bit wet
Her beauty spots O to whet,
O Rain, monsoon mate!
Rain, rain, so much not
That in your storm she gets caught,
But once here, go not.
______________________________
Musings |03.07.2023| rain, haiku
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