a couple of days ago.
To get out of the wind
he backed behind
a Hawthorn bush
and got a thorn
stuck up him bum.
Now cigarettes all carry
a public health warning
stating they are bad for your health,
but I think there should
be another warning saying
it also bad for your bum.
23 January 2008
His Auntie saw him drowning in the sea.
The woman now observes it only was a dream,
a premonition does oblige that you may be
responsible for future intermissions
within your life, let off some badly pent-up steam?
Do I believe in thoughts that float on rising air,
in pointing to the end of life of friends.
Or do I join the hordes of those who do not care
and just ignore whenever anything so awfully descends
upon my present comfort zone of lies?
Perhaps I’ll take the route of Dali Llama,
he said whatever happens, happens, (close your eyes) .
A premonition was what came to me one day,
it had disguised its body – didn’t know itself!
but gained respect at once from all the pre-survivors,
and kept on pointing at the clock, so close to twelve.
I let it die the death that’s due these rude false prophets,
we let it shrivel up and turn to dust again.
I think I might just go and pay a lengthy visit
to my own childhood where we said ‘tomorrow then,
if God decides to wake us infidels just one more time,
we’ll worship him and Jesus Christus even more,
yet live to worry whether reason or godalmighty rhyme
applies to premonitions and who’d keep the goddamn final score.
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She is living
In a beautiful house
In the middle of nowhere.
She was taken
To far away lands
To the most beautiful cities on Earth
The City of Lights and Stars
Even to the City That Never Sleeps.
She has the tightest embrace
Of an Anaconda
She knows what to say
How to say it
When to say it
To turn her man’s ear.
She always brags
Her man was smitten
By her loving ways
That she is the air
That he breathes.
She complements him
In every aspect
He promised
She is the one
The only one.
Yet, on the Day of Thanksgiving
The cold breezy days of Christmas Eve
And New Year’s Eve
All the grand occasions of the year
He was never with her
To share the meals
She patiently prepared.
She desperately
Longed to have him
At family affairs
Eager to introduce
To her nearest
And dearest.
He always says
There will be the proper moment
To meet everyone
But he is not yet ready
At this time.
One day
She called me
In the middle of the night
Crying at the top of her lungs
Between sobs she confessed
She is slowly being killed
By the emotional strife
In her life.
I told her
The words she hates to hear
‘Kick your heels
And go.’
Copyright 2017, Rose Marie Juan-Austin, All Rights Reserved