[you] sat on a park bench
Thunderclouds surround [your] head
[you] glare harshly at passersby
None above [your] wrathful glance
The darkest storm withers
And yields to fogs of gray
As [you] eclipse once sunny skies

"Hey [you]"
Squeeks the smallest of girlish voices
"What. Do. You. Want, small one?"
[you] wheeze through gritted teeth
"Why do [you] look so grumpy?"
Elicits green eyes between blonde pigtails
"Buzz off you nosy mouse! [i'm] grumpy
Can't you see that!?"

"Why so grumpy, it's a lovely day"
[you] cross [your] arms defiantly
"Lovely?  Hah!  Dumb little girl"
Her face scrunches up
"I'm not dumb"
[you] turn your face away
To cast [your] glance
At other poor happy victims

"Life's pretty good, I think."
As she opens candies wrapped
"Who made you an exp..."
As [you] try to finish fiery words
She places chocolate in [your] mouth
Brown smear across [your] cheek
A moment hangs pregnant in the air
The building of a storm

Seconds drag through eternity
A twitch at corners of [your] lips
But a little girlish gap-toothed grin
Drains [you] of feelings so hostile
As brutal youthful honesty
breaks foul moods, and makes [you] smile

Grumpy grey sky stares,
At the conquered water world;
Armies of clouds roar!

I don't know what to do,
Mother-in-law is coming to stay for a week or two,
I bribed the devil for help,
It painfully began to yelp,
Mothers-in-law are dangerous,
In hell ominous ,
Also there they have their say,
They want their own way,
Even Satan is moulded to soft clay.
If you love your spouse,
Welcome her to your house,
See she comes alongside you,
Not between you.

They whirl and swirl and dive
But do they?
The no see ‘ems, You can’t see ‘em
but you can feel them there
Cavorting and frolicking, invisible in the air
A dinner time dance, gluttonous splurge
You’ll know all about their evening soirée
When you discover the main course is
… You.

The baroque grandeur of
Warm seas on velvety spring evenings
Is in stark contrast to the ache
In my hands from the aircon being
Just too ******* cold.

And

Who do these stars think they are?
This heavenly phosphorescence
Placed so precisely on the lapel of
The night sky.
A supernova pocket square?

And

What is the story with this ***?
Wheedling it’s way down my throat
To try and melt the tremors in
The pit of my belly.
It’s ****** well working.

I met an unfriendly parrot
I can’t blame him really. He lived in a cage
He stood there and squawked
Screaming displeasure at all who passed.
Staring balefully at sunburnt tourists
Asking if polly wants a *******
He doesn’t want a ****** single one.

I did find out what he liked.
Completely by accident.
Turns out he likes songs,
Click songs, because
“The white people cannot say Qongqothwane”