#suburban
I feel love trip on the stairs
carless footfall of a suicide damsel
I see love fail in comfy chairs
the silence of a Netflix series
I taste the end of what seems like
a lifetime of omelette Wednesdays
I hear love crackle with all the excuses
of working late phoned from pub car parks
it's faint call from the bedroom door
"are you coming up to bed soon love"
the click of the refrigerator door
***** of another cold one the psst
of a bottle opening giving it's solemn "no"
Nov 30, 2022
Nov 30, 2022 at 7:22 PM UTC
skimming through thoughts
kindling fires
crackling;
gust
of
wind
swishing;
dancing flames
burning down to ashes
Sep 8, 2020
Sep 8, 2020 at 12:30 PM UTC
The Home Owners Association
Came by again today
With open glares at
The green crawling across my chestnut walls,
Blocking out my view of
Their pale tan plaster and
Baby blue curtains.
Fees clutched in hand
Eviction notices in their prayers,
They march up to a house,
Existing outside of their domain,
Bought by a grandfather
And never sold to no developer.
I watch with arms crossed
As they step past tomato plants
Whose fathers I planted with mine long ago.
Pleasantries exchanged
Mean nothing combined with
Cold eyes on me as
I politely tell them that their nobility
Has no jurisdiction.
Later when,
One let’s his dog dig up
Pieces of my lawn-less garden,
I stare from my curtain of leaves
At exposed roots,
The veins of a child’s loss reaching into air.
Tears will do no more than moisten the corners
As I walk outside
Camera in hand
Staring at a man
Who slowly droops
While shame dribbles back into his eyes.
Nothing is said,
Even when he turns and quietly walks away,
Leash held slack in hand
And dog loyally trailing behind.
Jan 30, 2019
Jan 30, 2019 at 1:05 PM UTC
She was
nestled low
that seldom
a thief
where her
package large
for Grant
Street's nighty
night kept
her glow
like an
ember there
before a
chair that
lifted sheer
her love
and drew
a bone
May 25, 2018
May 25, 2018 at 9:16 PM UTC
the cats do not purr
the dogs have fallen silent...
cell phone ___RINGS___ --its you!
Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 9:09 AM UTC
starlight tumbles bright
winter leaves fall from the trees
the bear cannot sleep
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 7:48 AM UTC
crisp cold morning sun
giant squirrel searches the hill
...you are nowhere to be found
symphony of birds
gusts dancing with mimosa
...our bed is empty
ice plant in the shade
the tumbleweed immobile
...i wait, my darling
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 2:56 AM UTC
the blue moon aglow
endless stars on indigo
you and I apart
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 8:51 AM UTC
noon rays, biting breeze
honey bee meets dandelion...
buzz! buzz! nectar sweet!
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 8:05 AM UTC
sky of white cotton
a rusty blackbird cloud sweeps!
the grassy knoll sways
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 7:56 AM UTC
squirrel on the duff
hawk a vortex in the sky--
swoop! golden leaves everywhere
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 7:50 AM UTC
howling coyote
great owl's moonlit serenade--
moaning of the train
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 7:17 AM UTC
Devious self-interpretation of motive in silk webbed mind, stuck in the trench warfare with the bugs and captured flies.
Squirming, disarmed, rattled teeth approached by death of the natural spider.
Slender and tormenting its captives in her somber lullabies, perverting happiness into altercation.
The ceremony is stretching its legs and fangs. The dinner table is set. The knives and forks, the cups and plates.
Mangled apathetic corpses, travel the distance from television to kitchen.
Slobs and lumps gather to de-funk the contents.
Inhales. Down. Waves of hands. Snickers of teeth to stomach. Grinding, turning, swallow.
The head of the spider appears.
The waves of hands, inhales, teeth.
The spider smiles and observes the meek as they gouge in their eyes with chicken legs and apple fat pies.
"With all eight legs and all my eyes, have never seen such cold gluttony, what does that make I?"
Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 12:33 PM UTC
A woman nigh round here sought
me in her life but hesitantly
she would never really hinge
till the flame finally out-
while she mattered just as well
I was the one with wherewithal
whether or not it fought for peace
through a second chance in life might appease
forthwith me distinguish only her amnesty.
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 7:40 AM UTC
Emperor patriarch enemy family
encyclopedia room flamboyance
and the minions of civilization bow
creviced foreheads etched
with hieroglyphic concentration
pantomiming the harmony of
banana splits dripping
on fireplace slippers
woven into the stories
your neighbors greeted you with
from the other side of the hedge
on the night the great comet arced
into our living rooms
and we kissed oh so
TV-like with the laugh track
clapping in time with the sprinklers
cha cha change the diaper ditty
after supper over done
under the influence
and in a fix
me another martini
extra olives
the smell of negligence
on her creamy pampered thighs
and the aromatic evidence
of lawn mower trim
on her teddy
bareness slipping away into comfort
the children wagering battle
plans with a mouse clicking
crayons left in box
cars matched tickets scratched
windows latched
onto
hobo toxic shock n awe
to see abandominiums
littering lots in crackopolis
virtual and simulated
between the in laws
and the outlaws
the grand apparentless routine
on display
could I borrow a toaster
or waffle with your wife
over the last stick of butter
backdoor banter about
Soldier of fortune
your last subscription
to the mercenary position of
the cul de sac coup d’état
taking place in spinning
class conscious of the fourth
estate third world second
generation first born zero
down home subdivisions
of the disenchanted
evening news is on excuse
that the whole thing is fixed
mortgages futures the lottery
tuition and everybody wins
army navy air force marines
corpses floating cross culture
reference guides to prescription
medication of futile society
Jonesing with the keeping
ups and out of product till
prime time reminds us
why we’re all here
waiting for the aliens
to excavate us.
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 9:41 PM UTC
It doesn't matter where you've been
I'm only interested in where you're going.
So you didn't pass in school,
Bad habits look good on you.
I don't want to tell you my life story;
About my past and all its glory
Because we are just middle aged suburban trash
And I want to be where you put out your ash.
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 3:00 AM UTC
Clock arms ***** upward
while the sleepers lie in their beds
thoroughly wet dreams
soak the ***** thoughts in their heads
Mothers obsessed with 7:00 am alarms
rush their ***** teenagers to designated stops
while a rising yolk shines bright
in eyes of sleepy pupils who wait for
a ******* on wheels
to shuttle them to institutions
addicted to #2 pencils
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 6:43 PM UTC
We called it dump country
Tons and tons of junk
Old bicycles and plenty
Of bottles from the drunks.
The legal dump sites
Had not been arranged.
This was now the city,
Things yet to be arranged.
Four little kids, broke ***
Not much money for toys.
It was the end of the fifties,
Bad times for little boys.
We made our own adventure,
Way before Disneyland.
We left right after breakfast
To us, the whole trip was grand.
We found amazing things
And brought them all home.
I found a gold painted Buddha
Under a kind of glass dome.
Jim found a tricycle there
And cleaned it up real nice.
It was a really good dump site
We went a lot more than twice.
We called it dump country
We had it to ourselves.
Just us four busy bumpkins.
Santa’s ***** little elves.
We found wheels and things
To build our own little cars.
We got cut up a bit sometimes.
I still have one of the scars.
Over in dump country
The one nearest to our place
Sam found a bit of money
One penny with an Indian face.
But what we found there
Added up to a treasure chest.
It sounds silly but they may be
The memories that were best.
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 8:22 PM UTC
And our love is like a suburban tree,
Rooted in dog ****
Smashed through concrete,
And struggling every day to survive.
m.c.c.
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC