painting the net
with effrontery
crude, insolent
•••brazenness•••
and to what effect?

marionette making
puppets on a string
unshelled hermits
***** all riled up
quite entertaining--

so's the jerking knee
set your reflex free;
someone's therapy
should never, ever be
your online misery*




●○
°

'love?' you say,
have a canapé
vulnerability
opens up our
jugular, to so

much hurt, to pain
be crushed and dashed
and maimed
destroyed with
utter disdain

we are contrarily
brought up
to be strong
independent
no one's fool

always look out
for number one
be proud, stand tall
headstrong, but
in pride, we fall

in that simple way
on any given day--
we are flawed lovers;
'love,' you say? here's
another canapé*




●○
°

● you'd think we could
just cut and paste away
to change things around

deleting ● what's ● not
then inserting what's hot
and she'll be all right●nah!

we can't flick the channels
or download a ● new ● app
for life, hard as we might try*




●○
•

take a stab
although it's dark
punch and jab
don't miss ye'r mark

tomorrow's fab
don't mind my back
pick up this tab
then hit the sack

'stab's on you
that last pint too

amusing exchanges;
remind me to tell
you about it later!

Would you know my gait
if merely my words parade,
while everything else lay hid?

Perhaps, should you have shared
in my thought and conversation;
maybe your soul would recall-

once, some time ago, I know
we rode our waves back to shore.*



_ _ __✒
●○
•

even after season upon season
of changing jobs and habitations
in different states and even nations

we can look at objects that trigger
a sense of connective familiarity;
but on any other given day they're

just stuff, things that fill our lives;
for instance that bottle of clairol
or bar of dove, that tube of colgate

exact same products at granny's house;
shapes, smells, and sounds surround us,
a nest, perfectly built: dry, warm & sturdy*




●○
•

thou hast waxed sarcastic
to mock and disrespect the
misfortunes of another's need
whether male or female
of varied colour and creed

why dost thou behave unseemly
become as a clanging cymbal
blustering as sounding brass?
kindle again, first love's flame
before it's too late, unsweet charity

his tears used to wake him
from an unduly prolonged delay

her smiles used to hurt him for
their beauty his heart, dismay:

their love had locked them up
and threw away the only key

and mile upon mile of wishful thinking
pushed them further away, though free

he looked into a well-used mirror to find
the devil he danced with was himself

and the fireflies that once lit their canopy
have also lost their former glee

it has been said that poetry
is the straight and narrow road
to a woman's heart of hearts;

        but alas, for me

              it has been the escape pod
from that woman who once,
but no longer, has regard for me*





_ _ __✒
●○
°