Cheerful Sunday

Go go go the cat paws at her friend.
Dear dear friend go out there and poke at the box.
The magical box of wonder and awe.

Words, spin out of the tapping fingertips.
Language a conversation spins out of control.
Forcefully taking you from the start to end.

Friend keep going, the box isnt that unfriendly, friend.
You’ll find a way there to tell those on the other end that you
you are a friend indeed that needs a friend friend.

Take this friend for a walk, take this friend for a long walk to teach him new things
This friend is a thoughtful friend that understands the complex emotions of compassion, sympathy, and respect.
Let this friend go, take him, and guide him to be the new friend to the world.

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Tall window into the world. My Fishbowl.

Tall clear window,

Gives me a view, with a seat in-front of it

that supports the writer and the words that swell out of a

mangled mess of jello like brains.

Mixed amongst the words sweet sugar cookies and cream invading black

night liquid.

Jitters, shaking arms, a shot of energy and consciousness

Words of unfiltered sorts tumble out as the people on the pavement

walk by, cycle by, drive by in metal boxes with strange wheels that move

moving somewhere, going somewhere.

I am supported by a hard wooden chair that absorbs nothing.

Sitting waiting for the words to tumble out, in the right order?

Never really since words have a mind of its own and a strange new order to bring order to the disorderly.

Later perhaps tomorrow the sense of the words make sense or none at all.

Maybe if I look outside the words will make sense?

Two hours later…

I wonder where time went.

The coffee is gone, as did the sugar.

Hello words what can I do with you today?

 

 

 

Postaday

After the warmth is gone.

Shiver shiver oh the coldness of the bamboo mat
isn’t doing its duty when the night air is cold, and I need some warmth to
lull me asleep. Where is that snuggling bird to regulate the heat?
Take away my excesses of energy, adjust my mood , and keep me sane.
Can it not be that I’m drinking too much. Coffee? Caffeinated drinks, to spike my consciousness into overdrive, limbs are trembling out of my control. I am sensitive. Too much. I cannot bear anymore. Sweetness begone! I cannot have you. I have other things to do and you are not among it in my to do list.

A Cat’s wishes…

A cat, round furry cat, sits in a cafe sipping green tea.

She writes a wish on to a page with round misshapen paw prints.

Meow, for a cat friend.

Meow, for the cat’s favorite cat nip presents.

Meow, for some time to snooze and snuggle in peace.

Meow, please can I have these simple wishes?

The cat would purr… contentedly if she could have these simple pleasures.

Meow.

 

Postaday

 

 

He’s gone far away

Far away from my hand
my arm, me
He is not by my side
in physical presence
I am now aware that I am
ill with a desire to
be back together again
where two halves
make the chubby round whole
egg again
like yolk to white
cat to its nip
chocolate to the lady
and everything nice
For awhile and some time more
the world will be a bit
off
off kilter where two beings embrace the
earth in hope that the distance
dissipates and no amount of air is too far
in this day, this moment where there is an
electric connection
between that egg and that white
to make something fascinating
so fantastic that the girl would
cry happily with joy
that she could have that chocolate
as if he stepped through a window
in a frame in an instant
that need that want could be
calmed for just awhile
a little while
where the chocolate melts pleasantly
and mixes into her.

The White Furry beast next door

The large white beast next door

I found last morning swiping at

my dearest children.

One child was lost

the others thankfully are

safe from that cat.

I didn’t know that the tulip

children are poisonous

to that cat.

But why does she have to

behead my children.

When their life is already so short

in growth, the blooming petals

reach skyward

and give some colour into this world of mine.

Cut short by sharp claws

cut short by beheading.

On green bubbles

Little green bubbles bunched up all on a vine

brown vines to tie them bind them all as a familial unit

Inseparable, to nothing except time and gravity

t&g makes for an irresistible duo to bring the bubble into a chemical mix of

tart & wine. sugar ripened to the peak of flavour

thick skins engulf the round ovalesque bubbles

Green green grape fear not for I am here to save thee from

the rot you wish for, the seed to contact the earth and

renew yourself away. again and again

the seed is here or isn’t

at all. GMO green grapes deny me this pleasure

but takes away the fun the delight of ejecting with pursed lips

the fruit of your labours

the dainty teardrop of your magnificent DNA

the lovechild of your green green bubble

encased with thick thick skins

that stretch from head to toe

without tear break

unmarred you are intact till my lips

surround your body and

tear you limb from flesh

and you are no more no

sustenance remains to

mark where you were

green green grape