Where the wild weather reigns
over the heather clad hills
and the sea rages against towering cliffs.
Where the Sea Eagles swirl
on wings and wind hunting
Artic Hares and Trout in the secluded Lochs.
The call of solitude brings the Hermits
to their knees in prayer and contemplation
and the poets seeking songs from the silence.

She guessed she was, just one of his "girls"
He thought he'd Delight her, with a few of his twirls
But he didn't notice, while the others wore pink
She was dressed in black, having a drink
Nothing like them, insane, her middle name
She didn't just dance circles, she played the game
She'll burn your house down, while you sleep
So pray the Lord, your soul to keep
And should you die, before you wake
Anything worth a ****, she will take
She'll lock it up deep, in her trophy chest
Placing your things, with all the rest
And She won't do it, in an arena
She's a 'burn your house down', ballerina
Dancing in ashes
That's her fashion
Her Pointe slippers, tainted black
Not rhythm but Empathy, she lacks
Never involve yourself, in a crazy dance
Or Being burned alive, is a definite chance
It's just her nature, who she is
She'll drink your coke, but she won't **** with fizz

You can bite me hard
I will pet you back.

Ma Cherie © 2017

Full ashtrays , lipstick stains on
white coffee cups
Hashbrowns and waffles , Dwight Yoakam
on the jukebox , waitresses calling orders ,
a lone cook 'in the zone' , the whole scene
becomes a country song
The patrons begrudgingly lip synch along* ...

I lead with my left,
And follow with the rest
Of my body.

React with the exact flow
Of my subconscious,
And come back later for the editing.

Life is not a boxing match,
But it feels like I’ve been
Fighting this and that.

Fist in hat and swiped it back
No magic tricks
To help me with it.

Just one thing to the next,
And I no longer reflect
What I expect.

I am just a wishing well
Of show and tell,
Pennies in,
but only smoke come out again.