decorous

the dollhouse appointed in grandest of style
with doilies and drapes aplenty
so the tiniest girl with shyest of smile
gets her dollies ready for tea
sweetly proportioned in frills all of white
a decorous child, her parents' delight
but teddy bear hands were not made to hold
the delicate china, disaster unfolds
a smash and a crash make for milk stained lace
for tears and a cry from nanny's red face
but teddy cares not, he just watches all blankly
he won't cry over milk, tis not worth it, frankly

mulct

no slick and slimy shiny suits
no insinuation of manipulation
he had the gift of the grift
and me, the miserable mark
mistook his mulcting
thought he was square
unaware that despite
demeanor upright
he was all wrong
and before I knew it
he'd gone through it
my money and heart
both gone
forever lost to the con

invincible

moments of wonderment
translucent prisms
carried by zephyrs
bobbing on the breeze
as buoyantly as buoys
we float iridescent
think we are invincible
because we are beautiful
but we are so beautiful
because we are ephemeral

belvedere

I picture me in realms pastoral
perfectly perched upon the precipice
but safe within the belvedere
held close by one that I hold dear
surveying my circumstances
and the scenery
looking out for what will be
a vast vista of possibility
under streaks of purple
red and deepest blue
painting the sky ahead
as above the stars turn on
and I can turn
and see the world still
reflected there in you

inveterate

i know you
of old
followed your charms
ever disarmed
by honeyed-words
masking hollow heart
inveterate liar
i never knew
the extent to
which you drew
me on
into
the fiction
of you
a prediliction
for falsity
in such immensity
when all you say
mendacious be
how could i know a truth
nothing to compare it with

juxtapose

laying out these
and those
so they juxtapose
comparing the this
and the that
search for clues
and connections
in actions
reiterated like
mimeographs
in ink depleting
faults fading
so destiny repeating
memory retreating
echos on canvas
hung in sunlight
achromitizing
our romanticizing
forgetting
beginning
again

omniscient

a tricky business
how much to know
how much ignorance
is actually bliss
find comfort for
the things we miss
with half concocted
conclusions
wild delusions
better would it be
to be omniscient
or simply bleak
fine line we tread
when truth we seek
light illuminates
but also can burn
sometimes the yearning
for knowledge
better than to learn

exodus

not as in times past
when sense overthrown
caution and wisdom
and self-preservation
and all their disciples
in mass exodus would flee
with giddy gallup
from the chaos of care
instead, steady march
lacking the heady confusion
minimizing delusion
fettering elation
with consideration
as sense gathered
an ordered mind
moves forward
with deliberate tread

noetic

i rack my brain for words poetic
but they will not come
exhaustion/delusion reign frenetic
my sentences on run
confusion dominates my aesthetic
search for smart big words
profoundly professorially noetic
or instead of grandiose
perhaps prophetic
but spent, I fear,
they're just pathetic

litany

too often and too easy
to make dislike a list
to run down all your faults
to cry and clench your fist
to rue the days that happened
or to fear the days to come
regret the ones you wronged
to miss the ones that run
too easy and too often
until it drives you mad
to get caught in a loop
convinced you are so bad
too often and too easy
to forget the hard and rare
to be run down by the busy
be overwhelmed by lack of care
yes, it's hard but more rewarding
to run the litany
of all things you like
of your better qualities
of the names of those who love you
of the things that make you smile
those are the things worth listing
they're what makes this life worthwhile

piebald

vermilion skies radiate the beam
that glistens and gleams
slowly sneaks softly across
the peaks and valleys of a face
piebald and pinkish
freckled from the sun
who sinks in the distance
serenaded by seagulls
singing her a lullaby

koine

like Klingon, Elvish or Esperanto
the koine you coin
will never be common currency
too abstruse for everyday use

unctuous

he slithers oozing patrician condescension
like a rotting orange squashed underfoot
she imagines this unctuous annoyance of her days
perfectly pictures his greasy hair and shiny suits
smooshed and smashed like roadkill
his braying boasting forever quashed
and grits her teeth and smiles
and hands him a file

fossick

two old blokes in a beat up ute
gone driving down the road
headed for the outback
perhaps to fossick for some gold

or maybe out to Coober Pedy
opals there to find
it's the searching that so drives them
but the what, they never mind

then they might drive up to Uluru
the great red rock to see
and wonder at the world
and how wide the sky can be

two old blokes in a beat up ute
gone adventuring today
across the red, under the blue
for what, they couldn't say

withy

willow switches
slicing through air
separately
we try to bend
the world to our will
with whipping wail

but woven together
with thee, my withy
we can carry the cosmos
in a basket of
limber lumbers
and hopes

we shine
intertwined

galvanize

Enthusiasm hard to muster
When the world has lost its luster.
When everything tastes just like dust
You only eat because you must.
If smiles come but ruefully,
Grinning exhausts, truthfully.

But then, surprise! A light blinks on
After you thought all light had gone
And night would reign forevermore,
Sunshine comes knocking at your door.
Time can wound or time can heal.
Either way, changing how you feel.

This time, brave and getting braver
Instead of grim and getting graver.
And galvanized by simple spark
Your raucous laughter shatters dark.
Like a geyser bubbling
Giggles grow, redoubling.

Not to say there's no more sadness
But balanced back again with gladness.


 

canaille

so easy to sneer
and peer down
on the masses
calling them classless
but really, is your snobbery
such an asset?
policing the gauche
for petty trespasses,
hovering above
the hoi polloi
like a balloon
waiting to be popped.
I cannot escape
the canaille,
can I?
and could I,
would I?
would I care
to join you
tenuously floating
and full of hot air

sedentary

some would see our Saturday
and say we're sedentary
as we laze about on couches
and linger under covers
but sometimes forward motion
in a thing you cannot harry
and progression's measured
differently for lovers
Sunday, we'll hold hands and walk
feet marking out the miles
but today, snuggles and talk
will move us into smiles
we race ahead on whispers
and we leap and bound in kisses
we keep a steady pace
discovering what this is

hobnob

mud stained hem
soppy shoes
frizzy braids unraveling
as small hands grip
a democratic bouquet
of weeds dressed in finery
hobnobbing with fancier flowers
no hierarchy to grubby fingers plucking
beautiful botanic subjects
serenaded by maniacal chuckling
from a totalitarian tot
subjected to the horror
of a dimpled despot
ordering dandelion executions
with a mighty gust
from puffed out cheeks
eyes crossed to watch
glorying their dissolution

twee

ribbons like armor,
in roller-skated glory
i rallied, revelled
in what some called
ridiculous, rebelled
against rules meticulous,
dove into the twee of me
to dry my tears with whimsy,
regressed to progress and find redress
so embraced the parts of me
unsullied by sadness
and on the other side,
in the valley of my madness,
found one who takes glee in my silly
giggles with my goofy
and takes my hand in gladness.

exasperate

when finally
considered
in the end
the truth
delivered
at the last
I feel compelled
to note
before we relinquish history
sacrificing memory
the past in perpetuity
there is this
I may exasperate
with dithering
and you with distance
left me withering
still we wrote
a lovely story
we made a pretty tale
and though time and tides
have moved us
the sweetness of the two of us
ever shall prevail

wherefore

Luck,
is she a capricious goddess?
Zeus in all his forms
not more changeable than she.
Her whims and whimsy
full of irony and melancholy.
We know not wherefore
she is so and therefore
know not how
to make her go
hither or thither
as we hope.
There are no burnt offerings
no sacrificial virgins
no hymns to the heavens
to please her.
So simply we ask, "please"
and try to name or shame her
like a puppy
"good luck, bad luck."
But like a puppy
she is neither
and both.
She reflects her owners.

batten

i feast gluttonously
on your bemused smile
on that mischievous twinkle in your eyes
or when you make your forehead crinkle
on the almost dimple when you grin
on the beard I scritch upon your chin
on brow slightly furrowed quizzically
on the strength of arms wrapped round me
and greedily, voraciously
i breathe you in in heaving gasps
as though each breath might be my last
i drink you in in gulps and guzzles
surfeited yet never sated
there's the puzzle
compulsive cannibal, I,
I cannot but batten
i feed and fatten
devour the delightful
desirable
delectable
deliciousness
of you  

ruthless

behind a moat he emotes
he groans and moans
that he feels so all alone

but like an arsonist in a match factory
over a molotov cocktail bar
it was he who set ablaze all his bridges

burned them down to ash in a flash
with efficiency ruthless and rushed
without a thought for what he'd wrought

not a boat to be found
to cross from ground to ground
and no swimmer, he...

consequence unconsidered
better had he dithered

mithridate

despite myself
somehow bought into this
fairy tale patriarchy
years spent longing
faults overlooked
sins forgiven
red flags the colorblind couldn't miss
hoping that this one or that one
would be the prince with mithridate kiss
to heal or solve or wake me
 
finally resolved to fall into the abyss
give up on rescue and find my own bliss
eventually understood
the evil witch's curse
the sow's ear purse
the poison in the apple
the potion on the spinner
only potent with power I provided

the irony, of course, this
once the myth of the damsel in distress
ceases to persist
arrives the hero you can't resist
one who doesn't fix but fights beside
who gives a boost but would never
just carry you up the castle wall
with false promise of happy ever after

so gear up, girl
sharpen your swords for dragon slaying
the fun is about to begin
rules were made for disobeying

declension

picking up speed
as gravity grabs
I'm a rock
rolling down
a declension

world spinning by
wind whistles, I
blurred rush of
adrenaline
and momentum

so hurtled I, forward
onward
downward
smashed upon ground
unforgiving

this time, slow going
but upward
sweet savored
from singular to plural
declension in ascension

mash

the preteen origami
of my heart
folded in on itself
looking for answers
writ in crayon
on crinkled folded wings
manipulated by fingers dancing
as a paper mouth maws the air
and I wonder
who and how and where
it will stop
hope it lands
on my mash
handsome and dashing
and not on heartbreak
careening and crashing

auguries in a childish prop

meaningless
still...
fingers crossed


 

zenith

no one knows
how high it goes
how low the lows neither
zenith - nadir - zenith
and I could not
tell you why there
is a pendulum swinging
from all the birds singing
to alarm bells ringing
but somehow I found
in the soft, sweet sound
of a voice that murmurs
my name
equilibrium, peace
contentment, release
better, yet also the same
not numb as before
nor still raw and aching
not quite yet whole
but no longer breaking
my hurts start to heal
when my hand he holds
and for that I'm so grateful
whatever the future unfolds

abrasive

sandpaper songs sung

in voice made gravelly

by dusty dreams

stirred up controversy 

conjures coughs and sneezes 

percussion made by allergy 

to abrasive memory 

bent harmonica wheezes

out distressed melody 

broken tuneless plucking 

on guitar in minor key

but still the song is lovely 

when you're singing it to me

 

vagary

purely happenstance
in a world full of mischance
and missed connections
so random, so rare
to find moments of perfection
the vagaries of life
so oft against us work
and yet, there's this
while each running from another
somehow we found each other