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~for Wendy ~

with my almost two years old poetry advisor,
who loves her Sunday rituals, an extra sabbath,
of waffles and Shrek, kid’s gym and artistic endeavors,
cozying up with Nana and siblings in a big old bed,
snacking and chewing on the good silk sheets

as always, she and and I go off to have an intellectual conversation,
letting the older ones to do kid stuff, while we converse and debate
topics of nature vs. nurture, the weather vs. climate change,
and the future of everything, unbeknownst to everyone else

which is greater, love or honor, she inquires,
sensing my thoughts are preoccupied with matters of honor...
as she strokes my itchy, scratchy day old face,
insuring her having my full attention, while
taking advantage of my loving weakness

grandpa:
honor over everything my opening gambit,
while she coyly harrumphs in response,
one can love without reason for such are
our natural souls programmed,
but honor needs concentration and contemplation,
and if done right,
then love will surely follow!

She-Woman:
ah ha! once again you sidle up to nurture,
cause love is too inexplicable,
old man, old man, did I not love you before
any season of reason crossed my brow,
and my vocabulary consisted of just
more, no, toy and hungry

what did I know of Aristotle, logic, codes of conduct,
the definition of honor yet abstract,
while love is nature’s illogical construct,
coming first without restrictions,
while honor is malleable and
property of the eye of the beholder

grandpa:
wise beyond your tears, you are, and unquestionably correct,
but while coming first, love cannot last,
until cover-coated with honor,
for honor gives us the because, and locks down the why,
honor gives the insight, the rationale, the rules of how to say
yes and no, when love is tendered and an R.S.V.P. is requested

She-Woman:
absent experience, for now will concede,
but be warned this is not over,
fo you have not brought me a definition of what truly honor be

grandpa:
honor is the housing of love, and though you granted me your favor,
comes the day that you will demand proofs that
what was unearthed & unearned
is now earned, a course in credit, a baccalaureate in life’s lanes,
when to heed them, when to crossover, when to say I do, I do,
no to someone else alone, and yes to your honorable self

She-Woman:
adult double speak, I suspect, and you will rue the day
when forced to concede, with a wrenched
‘child, I do not know,’
meanwhile change my diaper
after I karate chop your knee

Grandpa:
yes child, but know,  two of your requests/notifications are
honorable acts and/know real love can be ONLY be exchanged
tween honorable humans
see photo for her  in position preparing to strike

3/3/19 9:45 am
Danielle Oct 2018
I’m a cannibal.
We’ll let that sink in.
It takes moment to digest that thought.
Sorry I have terrible humor, I know.
Why and who?
Mostly myself, I cannibalize me,
To rearrange my understanding of self.
It doesn’t survive upon contact you see.  
So I slice and dice, chop and whip.
Until nothing irritates and the rot sets in.
Then I have to cut out the bad parts
And try to put myself back together again.
So you see it’s really not easy,
Being a cannibal.
But **** I bet the final product will be delicious.
I hate it when I catch myself doing this, trying to put others so far ahead of myself that I just end up hurting myself. I'll learn how to avoid it eventually. Hopefully.
Hannah Jane Call Jan 2016
Yellow congregation
Discusses their front lines
Lawn mower arrives
Poetic T Oct 2014
Little Bow Peep
Told everyone she had lost her
Sheep*
And didnt know where to
"Find them"
She had slaughtered them
All of them for
Chops
&
Kebab meat
And sold the wool to china,
Little
Bow
Peep
Told no one of the secret
She so secretly did keep,
To why the  sheep had gone missing
Killing any and all from finding.
She was a
Chick
With
A
****
And had a fetish obsession of the sheep,
She was meant to looking after.
Peep Merrily nailed each and
Everyone of them,
Not
Once
Not
Twice
More like half a dozen times,
Sometimes cuddled up with
Her **** still inside them.
So when eating
Chops
Or
Kebeb
With chips, if tasting a little salty,
Then Little Bow Peep
Had slept with that sheep
And ******* inside them.
Didn't like how they worded or the structure so rewriting them..
17th Jun 2014
bring me to your thoughts
let me know all of your thoughts
I want to know everything

bring me the idea of this deficit
let me take away the pain
by cutting off your vein

bring me the disaster
knowing all the answers
come down
and cut me off my guard

endless fountains
endless mountains
filled with pain and disaster

you wanted me to be possessed
possessed by your inner demons
turn me into you slave
*the discount

— The End —