when you look at this rumpled old thing
just what is it that you see?
shall we plant a fence of trees
that will outlive you and me?
the miscreant heir who plays bass at purple twilight
Mad melodies marauding through my mind
Make me want to defy reality
How can I lift myself above this insanity?
dark havens for Stepford girls
mold and shape little women
made delicate like china
staring, pitying, patronizing
I didn't break you
although I cannot mend you
I will support you
if you will allow me to
Dear Cosmic Chef,
Was it fair of you to make me a mind
that loves cooking up big dreams
but has no freedom to fulfill them?
In retrospect, I can see
why you thought Hollywood was wrong for my tastes.
But why didn't you see fit to give me even a morsel of talent?
Or even the smallest sprinkling of pizazz?
I could accept the fact
that only the most half-baked mind
could envision me as erotic.
But giving me the appearance
of a blob of gritty icing
atop a melted ice cream cake
left sitting in the sun?
I won't stand for it, and I demand a refund.
waiting for the process server sucks
From where I'm sitting
There are doves and sparrows in the tree outside my window
Plotting to take a dump on my car
six-time loser down on her luck
at least this afternoon
we'll be able to hit the food bank
Would you believe that I am trying to be more like Pooh?
That willy-nilly silly old bear is my real hero.
Because he’s good-natured even when he’s bothered.
Every year one more piece of the past
Floats away on the winding river of time
many years have passed since I last visited a temple
or took a walk anywhere I felt at peace
Everything has changed so much in my old town
When my mother is gone, I will visit there no more
It brings back too many painful memories
Even with the passing of years, some wounds never heal
I don't hear too much from the birds outside my window
they fly to and fro, perching soundlessly
I slowly knit a headband and a scarf
from multicolored yarn, gold and red like autumn
I look at the birds outside my window
when my cats are gone, I will have no more
my heart is still an open wound from those lost before
night will fall regardless of what happens
love is a rat
caught in a trap
I clung onto his arm like a tattoo design
feared his desire would flicker like a dying flame
pressure to maintain impossible perfection
always drove me to hate my flawed self even more
he only saw women as collapsible dolls
why the hell did it take me so long to say no?
The first rain of the season was Thursday
Both the left and right are off their rocker
It's a sick, sad world
believe me or don't
~cie~
Music mix while I remix:
Write a remix poem.
The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)
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