Skippy and Joey, the one in the pouch,
Joey fell out and she now has an ouch.
Would you be kind Sir,
and fix Joey’s ouch?
In the future she’ll mind her,
once back in the pouch.
So the doc had a look
at the terrible gash.
Fifteen stitches it took
but was done in a flash.
Since the cut was positioned
in the Joey’s pouch flap,
the smart doctor envisioned
that there would be no gap.
So he put in a zipper
for the future offspring.
Mum exclaimed ‘What a ripper’,
’twas a wonderful thing.
His heavy chain assured me ofmy overwhelming power then.Yes, he was bigger and much strongerbut I would never be afraid.I even peed right on his headwhen no one looked and he was mad.Boy did he hate me, I could tell,the wooden beams shook from his anger,his coal-black eyes, so full of fire.But I just laughed…
It seems there is a naked manwith features of an ‘also ran’who humps a sheep or Nubian goatright where we poets place our vote.So up and down he goes and grinsI say we do have plenty sinswithout these foreign fornicatorsand need perhaps some good debatersbut not a bearded man of sleazeso let us have a…
I had expected to be sitting heremoping about, your name on lipsthat would prefer to ‘ve been,then and now, appreciated, and used.But wounds have scabbed over,an uneventful, as they say, recovery.You were a phony, though, oh yes,looking for entertainment, and loveoutside the home and far away,while telling me a wondrous story,and then proclaiming honour,and integrity,…
watch over you,wage waragainst all storms,and hold you tightwhen rainsand icy windsfall from a heartless sky.I’ll take your handand lead you tothe Cantadora’s cave,where secrets hide,beneath gray webshandcrafted byebony-skinnedarachnoidsfrom the silent past.My hollow handbe filled from springsinside hard granite stone,to offer you a drinkand you to mefrom salty brooksstill tepid,bearing specks,and miniature balloons,the air is…
is this the end of the beginning, asthe Cantadora has whispered into my hair,while kissing my face with wild abandon.With kisses that reek of unused cobwebs andlong ago abandoned petunia patches.‘What beginning’, I whisper back,barely able to breathe, as her gnarled fingersare choking me in midflight, with nails of vicious prominence.If we are passing anything,…
I’ll be the one who manages to drooljust at the memory of you, so, are we kin?No need for laboratories or for teststhough I was educated in the blessed schoolwhere all would wear bow ties and dark brown vestswhile checking the exchange of fluids, it is truethat man has made a mess of lovely thingsso…
