I can describe to you what the sky looked like
It was blue without a cloud to speak of
I can describe to you what the water was like
It was brown and full of fish

I can describe to you what he looks like
His hair is black, his eyes are blue
I can describe to you what the weather was like
It was brisk with almost no wind

I can’t describe how I lost that time
I can’t describe how I lose the days

Time is a figment of imagination
Time is simply put there for a measure

It’s a measure of how long you hurt
It’s a measure of how long you love

It’s a measure of how long your love has been lost

Coffee cakes filled with maliciousness
and cinnamon
You laugh with a squished up face
And say “…and cinnamon”
In a teasing tone

A muse to me
Perhaps a muse
To thee

Partner’s in crime
Non.
Non.
Partner’s in art

Cold and broken
In silence you can hear the cry
Hearts that bruised
Broke
Crumpled
HARDENED

The slutty little do - gooder, the narcissistic manipulator that’s who we are
Feeling the way EXTREME
Maybe

What happened to art? What happened to love?
What happened to ***?
What happened to the art in love?
Repeat repeat repeat…

How far will you let me go?
This is a test! Instructions WILL NOT follow!
I hope you make it

Just breathe
Just breathe
Just breathe

Sway and bend
Waiting for you to turn me on
Janis you had it right
“I’d be so good to you baby”
What do you want from me?

I can feel you from here
Say yes, yes, yes, YES
Open to a new page, I’ll take the chance
It’s worth the consequence

It’s all gonna be all right
We’ll get some glue
Unfold a little slowly
Take the bandages off
Silence becomes music

I look at him
HE’S ANNOYED
So then I touch him
HE’S ANNOYED

I talk to him
HE’S ANNOYED
So then I ask him questions
HE’S ANNOYED

I laugh
HE’S ANNOYED
So then I cackle
HE’S ANNOYED

I make a noise, P-O-P!
HE’S ANNOYED
So then I scream
Then he screams too

I read him this poem
THEN HE’S REALLY ANNOYED

Everyday there are moles
Lifeless rodents
Strewn about like some cat massacre

Sheba! Sheba is who brings theses gifts
Hunting at night
Leaving presents to be admired

What does she think about while in this pursuit of mole families?
Does she think?

Once, I saw a mouse being killed…

Today there were two
Yesterday one
Last week there were five on the patio

I wonder if there are warnings out in the mole community?
“Serial mole killings” they might say
Do they fear the dark now?

Dead moles, dead mice
Just death

Flowers carelessly tossed to the ground
Broken heart, anger, say you’re sorry
Discarded and left to die
There they lay in perfect form,
Free from trampling
Silently suffering the woes of another
Ripped from life, ripped from love
Returning to the ground from which they came

Sometimes it makes me feel like Dr. Seuss
What’s that word…oh ya moose
It’s a good way to teach the little one
And it is a whole lot of …uh….fun

I think that it makes it easier to read
It adds rhythm and speed
I sing it like a song
Ya maybe that’s wrong

Who would have thought who knew?
I would rhyme poetry for YOU
I can’t think of topic so I’ll stop
Or else I’ll recite “Hop on Pop”

So I’ll leave with this treat
About flowers so sweet
Bright yellow and orange…
Huh, oh ya nothing rhymes with orange