Muffin milks the tiny teet
of a tête-à-tête torn
apart by warring factions.
slowly spitting the purple plum
dribbling, oozing
over the convex lips
which kissed and kissed.

Cream juices the cocky caucuses
of cordial cacophony.
Moist middlers meddle amidst
businesses of their own interest.

Power is power better bear than
bottom but everyone is ******.
Lap the ego from the firehose,
the giant member of the state
spraying like a cat claiming "mine!"

Hellbound, hell no he'll save us
everything is going to ****.
One man job to make us come
out of the 17th hole sand pit
of our pernicious premier club membership.

My eyes
are bags of mucus hanging by cellophane membranes
to my skull which is now structured like a wet sponge.
My tummy protrudes out from the rest of my abdomen,
a gelatinous layer hiding away a chiseled core
which may be deteriorating into oblivion at this moment.
The skin rests and hangs a little over the top of my leather belt
which somehow manages to fit three loops in from the first hole.
My neck hangs heavy like the ears of a sad elephant.

Nina pranced about
the lush green grove.
The pitter patter of her footsteps
like raindrops on the ground,
and her movements,
like a fog rolled through a valley.  
A white satin leotard
decorated with flowery lace patterns
A tutu that blossomed
from her slender waist.  
Hair elegantly tied back into a bun.
Face, filled with symmetry, lightly made up with powder.
Her cheeks flushed with a pinkish red blush,
but natural like her lips of pomegranate red.  

The grove,
short deep green ryegrass that rolls over the lumpy ground like moss.
Trees shade like many arms shielding many eyes.
The pure white light of the sun shone through the canopy in beams.
Nina danced furiously intent and
music box intricately
in and out of the beacons of light
as a ballerina should following a lifetime of training.

Red Rhymenoceros ate the Green Galatopopulous
Red Rhymenoceros had indignant indigestion
Red Rhymenoceros abounded in agony
Red Rhymenoceros pooped placidly
Don’t eat Green Galatopopuli

Water
runs
down
the
wall;
it
must
be
coming
from
upstairs.                                                       ­                                                                 ­                        
Make it stop! My calls have been ignored. I live on the lowest floor; there is only going up.
The
     ceiling
             caves
                    inward
                            before
                                                             I take any action.
                                 Under my bed I fashion temporary shelter from the
                                 cataclysmic reaction                     between water and
                                 dry                                                              ­            wall.
                                                                The dust settles.
                                                               I feel for my face,
                                                                cuts and bruises.
                                                        ­             I am safe,
                                                           ­    But under my bed
                                                                ­  I am trapped.

Look at this beehive.
Look at the bees working together.
See the hive.
Isn't it alive with activity?

Bees need one another
Just like we need bees

Or me, or
son. Or brother
from another Mother
or Father

or
God

or any other
to love or adore.
Or dream
Or wake up

or
Will

or force
yourself to.
Organized religion
or Catholics who pray

or
You

or those
who do not.
******* or ecstasy.
Or abandon

or
Forsake

or forgive
those who deceive.
Or strange suitors
or the jilted

or
Me

or I
or the original sin,
the temptation,
or Godless orphan.