As strip uncorrupted faceted coats
hard shell and blanketed like a universe
of my being
a bad taste of Taconite
such a cruelty
Whence fear no assault but all that spake
in the beam
all square sides
.. Potere… Elbaite with albite and Lepidolite.
striffing the acrylics
shine, you gorgeous butterfly wing jasper
oh shame to onslet painter
’tis, my shuly lungurous etcetera
to confound the pace
but wither- amateur
de blanc et de noir,
a slant of it
softly coming from anon
thirst-ridden sinews each dim
winch is to toss trails, into the lap of andante
and the harsh fervid moon over feet she lifts
on light footed germinal egg
The Dickite of facebook family block.
The Fukalite in the loud flames
of her benevolent heart,
Disconsolately, I think
she is going to kill herself by
Shawshank gems, rock and pistol.
when the grocery can opens and camels looks like Canterbury
she will do it then
the pastures will glisten
the pocketbook will listen
copper chromate arsenate hydroxide
in visions of endless love.
day, night, aunt Margaret
shall I tell you a secret?
alas, wee birdie and beast
this is the trushes of songs
but still keeps carving dark dark
and the cry works all the time
But mistakes her for the medals
for too long, the bingo father
and the bingo mother
and the bingo sister – lover,
and a flutter, outside the big
retro box full of slime
and nothing but a slime
and the Mind House spots me in Poland
bamboo leaf for lotus, Atomium, La Pedrera
so don’t blame panda for my family corduroy
I have to go somewhere.. I know.
I gotta go swimming in Mid Atlantic
supported by the Meta Picture of myself
for daddy may come and daddy may go,
but mummy will go on forever.
Moolooite, hear me
in that Emanating dim pit
stings my smooth plastic absolutia
for I am quartz, a chert, a life
sitting in a fetal position under a large rock
with other dead souls.
a fairly set.
When you have stories, you always have your family. They will always be your priority. Your responsibility. And a writer… a writer writes. And he does it even when he’s not appreciated.. or respected… or even loved. He simply bears up,.. and he does it… because he’s writer.
.Fluffy, curly-headed, looney ball!
He jumps upward and bounces off the walls.
Then he curls up, snoring in his sleep.
(Huuuuuuuhh. guhrrrrrrr huuuu grrrr grrrgrrr…..siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii…)
He is such a such a noble cat!
Sometimes I call him Gerard Erickson.
Sometimes I call him Sanders Pennington.
He speaks, cat, dog, human:
‘Tomcat, are you going to eat the dog’s leg, perhaps? ‘ (rub, rub, up-tail)
‘Sspurr -ior! But.. I would paw – fer beef steak.’
(Huuuuuuuhh. guhrrrrrrr huuuu grrrrr)
‘Are the chicken wings too bad for you? ‘
A roasted mouse in the microwave?
‘Disa-purr-! , slave! ”
(P – KIIIIIIIIIHHHHHHHHHHHH! ! !)
Before that, scratch my elevator – butt!
Then he turns, in Dead Mousie pose, and clumsily mumbles orders:
‘Open My door’
‘Close My Window’
‘No, do some ‘Prairie-Doggin”!
‘Do some Cat – Dance! ‘
Both left feet moving
Both right feet moving
‘Walk like a cat, you, clumsy camel!
Think like a cat!
More kitty – like! That’s it.
More kitty – like.
More more cattitude!
You have no style, let’s get you to ballet! ‘
He sings soprano (Mrrrowwww. Mrrowwww. mrrrrrowwwww.)
‘Merry Meow Birthday, my Batler, where are you?
Happy Meow, too you, too!
Fetch me my slippers!
Pass on my reading glasses!
I have to get my higher degree.
Go kitty! …Off’
Once he is in his cat – cradle
I am telling him tales to his fluffy tail
He is my, fur real, Claw-some friend
He is my dearest and purrrr-fect son
Arm to paw
Cheek to cheek
Heart to heart
Lips to muzzle (mwahhhh)