When the ant had told
that December cold
night the grasshopper,
who had spent Summer
singing in the tree,
to go dance now that
he was hungry but free,
he didn’t show the hurt,
for he was alert
To the discomfort
of Winter and language;
but he left the village.

When he, years later,
Came back as a baker
(who sang in the day
and worked in the night),
the first thing he did
was to go see the ant -
a gift-wrapped guitar
in his hand.

(c) LazharBouazzi

She was a vegetarian
Cigarette-smoking drunk
Who fell in love easily
With any handsome hunk.
She was a bible-quoting
Daily Zodiac-addicted muse
In dungarees, leather chaps
And covered with tattoos.

Like a character from Monty Python
She always had pentagram earrings on.
And she loudly wondered constantly
Why nobody ever took her seriously.

She looked like a biker mama,
But she never owned a bike.
A personality like barbed wire
She was so very hard to like.
She growled like a take-off
Out of Cape Canaveral.
Why she wasn’t popular she
Could never understand at all.

She had the strangest body parts
Tattooed or heavily pierced
She looked unlike a human being
And she thought that was fierce.

She walked like The Thing
From the Fantastic Four
And I was never sure she knew
What shower was created for.
Her entire vocabulary was
Based on waste matter and ***.
I really do believe she was
The product of an ancient hex.

moons are out tonight
orbiting softly, unseen
just beyond planets

Outside the greyhound bus station
He passionately kissed you goodbye
You wanted not trust him,love him
Hold him as he strolls in his dreams

Adjacent to his grey polished automobile
You danced and took the paper of his promises
Those crunched word put inside the pocket
A remembrance of moments and painted assets

Ambivalent of his grey gloomy moods
You danced as you needed his gentle touch
He streams in your system like a turbulent waterfall
The build up of rumours, in the pantry the kisses he stole

Innocently he presents a grey leathered testament
A juridification of  how he can leave your system
A speech as a declaration of how he can save you
Take a pace, hold the breath, see his lies on this clear day

This civilisation I do lament,
For what was intended I cannot see,
All banks and buildings from fields of cement,
We can’t turn back from what we know to be.

Another way seen distant in the mist,
From a distance, copy it we cannot.
Never, before we are within its midst,
Will we look back and see what we forgot.

Look back we will but not with longing eyes,
We know the mistake of the wife of Lott.
With knowledge we’ll look back and realise,
Exactly what we had, and now what we’ve got.

Hist’ry of  humanity is replete,
With lessons, from times of old, of others,
From whose misdemeanour caused our retreat,
Learn willingly and see our endeavours.

He is **** writer
She is scarcely clad inciter
Writer stumbles along
scanning her song

For words to add to his poem
Songstress pretends not to notice
adjectives he steals
thieving glance at his heals
All marauding spinning wheels
Prosody ‘o orthography blow him

plethora a plush collusion
exile of garment illusion

each sit across room
She ties ribbon to bloom
this ribbon runs through typewriter
Who will be inciter?

presume it is not Jeroboam
****** be this poem