Once an exemplar man, a tempest to the core Fernando was a techno fan, loved pyro even more! Shutting down his internet, pallor in his eyes Going out today, he thought, wasn’t very wise But shop ahead he did, and scanned his products well Involving the shop manager by ringing a small bell Feeling so unwell, the man he took the hint For in a sickly moment, to the toilet he did sprint.
Many, many years ago I had a house up north the kids lived in a frowzy place, not knowing all its worth The hubby was quite fractious, not towards family per se but found the home distinctly packed with linens all astray He sought a way to shock me into cleaning up my mess To my surprise he shared the things he saw despite the stress the pareidolia in the wood were monkeys pouncing round His gasconade about his view I proved completely sound For there among the dirt and dust and knots all in the pine, were monkey faces all around, not reflections of any kind.
This poem is based on a true story. First of all, the monkey faces: One night we had been sitting talking and Bob, my late husband, asked me in astonishment if I saw the monkey faces. I had no idea what he was talking about, thinking maybe he had imbibed in a few beverages. After trying to explain it and show me, I did see them! Monkey faces in the grain of the wood floor. Second, ever since I was younger, when I get super stressed out I clean. I would clean everything and then feel better sitting back looking at an organized, clean space. Once, Bob told me that sometimes he would try to get me mad so that I would clean! We laughed about it, actually.
Despite my abeyance and my reasons to decline Crow started up a rumor, absurdity divine! About a clever swan who lived down in the pond Passing all the little fish to get back to the frond Bodacious lady birdy would collect her tiny babes and circle through the pond like hands on a round clock-face Then snatch up little bits of the leaves she thought delish and deliver them to lily pads she used as baby’s dish. I stopped him with my query, he didn’t have a clue Why a duck would pass up fish, lies no longer ensue.
I must elude to the fact that theatre’s not taboo the dirty, filthy basement seen is not that dank, it’s true the smattering of cobwebs allure the wary eye to trashdumped messily about and the buzzing of a fly To regain thoughts on where you are and shift your astonished gaze you excavate your cluttered mind and think of all the ways that cellars are collocated with darkness and with dirt but the stage is still a fantasy a primitive concert
I was having a dinner when a few of my friends, the closest ones here, when noise softly begins I suddenly realized that the noise was from me I was enthusiastic As they all could see I looked up at the trees with the shape of a fan pulchritude clearly exciting sight for a man The orangey sky glowed a deep, murky hue in my behavioral coma I thought just what to do I crossed the small yard and leaned on the gate a square metal lock hanging from a small plate I yanked at the lock but it was fixed up real tight so I bid them farewell and said to all them, “goodnight”
He was active, unkind and sort of a jerk unhappy in life, for nothing he’d done Acting deftly a prig but really below with a derelict attitude of everyone He’d rip you to pieces and shout out in joy while jotting long notes in his book With a thunderous whoop and low greasy laugh pouring out poison each time his hand shook Bounding out of his house and way down the street Grabbing things that were not of his own Like a big nasty dog with brown gnarly teeth being teased from a huge juicy bone. When his life had become a big sloppy mess He asked his friends what was the root They came all undone and laughed right out loud Giving their friend a quick and a hard boot. He cried out in pain and tried to run fast toward a pier from this maddening crowd But he didn’t know that his past had come back And they weren’t afraid to shout at him loud. They said, “You’re a jerk! You’re not very nice and we’re tired of all your bad crap.” He looked at the group with awe in his eyes Be he was smart to keep shut his big flap.
Tauten your tie put on your vest No being furtive just be your best Creativity abounds a human response like bread needing yeast never kneaded enough The whole of your being like dough in your hand you sculpt yourself perfect to be such a man.
Sitting on a high back stool, shifting all my weight I’m waiting for my custard pie, I spin to face the plate My chair is too low to reach the food, looks iffy anyway I leave my seat and bite my lip, regretting my long day.
In the middle of trouble Where nothing makes sense A fool will be pious But to his defense The drunk at the bar Is quite erratic you see With dirt clod fingernails Never silver money The heat of the moment When one should take flight Sometimes refuses and imbibes in a fight The alchemy there In the core of his brain Is like a carnation After icy cold rain Physics should surmount The bright gold lit light Is really a senseless Brainwave from the fight A snack will help fix The untimely glow on the poor drunkard’s face As it’s part of the show A ticket to nowhere Will be true, you see Is where the barfly Should put his money.
As a pedestrian here, alone on my way home to my condo on this glorious day I think to myself in my tirade of thoughts all of my nots and all of my oughts My old house was cobalt, a bright brilliant blue splashed with a strange yellow-orangey hue I’d comment some more on the relics inside Since I honestly have nothing to hide But to bore you to death is not what I think So I’d rather you sit and relax with a drink I used to think I was the center of earth Entitlement was the sum of all of my worth My apartment was grand but empty as hell The rest of my tale, I might as well tell I had no love life, apart from my cat An old catty man-child, or something like that My cooking was sparse, take out boxes abound That sat on my table, since no one’s around The laundry was dirty, except for the socks No one wants dirty feet, or feet cut on the rocks Of the path that leads here and to other homesteads I could continue my tale, but will go home now instead.