Domestic Squabble
The worms are at it again.
They've been up all night
in protest of my latest acquisition.
You see, I wanted a new perspective,
a room with a view
a little conversation piece for the coffee table.
And when I brought him home,
carefully polished,
they went on strike.
Books were burnt. Banners were waved.
A puppet government was set up.
As an exile, I have no communication with them.
I am waiting, pen in hand, for anything to happen.
I need an idea; I depend on their collective clamor,
on their noisy rootings, the aeration of my dreams.
Eventually they will need me too.
I am a master gardener.
old poem
- mood swung
- Posts: 6908
- Joined: Thu Jun 05, 2003 3:59 pm
- Location: out looking for my tribe
- Contact:
old poem
Like me, the "g" is silent.
- so lacklustre
- Posts: 3183
- Joined: Tue Jun 03, 2003 2:36 pm
- Location: half way to bliss
- mood swung
- Posts: 6908
- Joined: Thu Jun 05, 2003 3:59 pm
- Location: out looking for my tribe
- Contact:
- so lacklustre
- Posts: 3183
- Joined: Tue Jun 03, 2003 2:36 pm
- Location: half way to bliss
- mood swung
- Posts: 6908
- Joined: Thu Jun 05, 2003 3:59 pm
- Location: out looking for my tribe
- Contact:
- bambooneedle
- Posts: 4533
- Joined: Tue Jun 03, 2003 4:02 pm
- Location: a few thousand miles south east of Zanzibar
- bambooneedle
- Posts: 4533
- Joined: Tue Jun 03, 2003 4:02 pm
- Location: a few thousand miles south east of Zanzibar
... I've written one:
She, she'd have her fart attacks,
like rat tat tat artillery -
friendly fire over the fence.
uncalled-for almost violent verbal diahorrea.
Maybe one too many a sugar cube
augmenting a disposition to blow,
for unusual and scary drama.
Yet things were funereal at the time...
what with his own blank stare suffering,
the new penchant for shaving his eyebrows
among other places he could reach.
then, to be rescued from that laundry chute -
who wouldn't want to escape?
mental asylums are full of crazies.
Oh, but how the neighbours will crawl...
now I walk out a proud one-
my face resenting nothing but the wind,
the sky behind me, like a painting.
I have befriended them.
She, she'd have her fart attacks,
like rat tat tat artillery -
friendly fire over the fence.
uncalled-for almost violent verbal diahorrea.
Maybe one too many a sugar cube
augmenting a disposition to blow,
for unusual and scary drama.
Yet things were funereal at the time...
what with his own blank stare suffering,
the new penchant for shaving his eyebrows
among other places he could reach.
then, to be rescued from that laundry chute -
who wouldn't want to escape?
mental asylums are full of crazies.
Oh, but how the neighbours will crawl...
now I walk out a proud one-
my face resenting nothing but the wind,
the sky behind me, like a painting.
I have befriended them.
- mood swung
- Posts: 6908
- Joined: Thu Jun 05, 2003 3:59 pm
- Location: out looking for my tribe
- Contact:
- bambooneedle
- Posts: 4533
- Joined: Tue Jun 03, 2003 4:02 pm
- Location: a few thousand miles south east of Zanzibar