In you, in Doe

“How do you do madam?”
She said, “Come again?”
He said “It is my pleasure ma’am.”
and gently tipped his brim.
She said “My it is warm in here.”
As he tugged at his tie
Her eyes flashed afire
And gave him a vertical smile.
She said, “Please, sir, have a seat.”
He said “Don’t mind if I do.”
She put the spoon in the honey pot
And then asked, “One lump, or two?”
Said he, “How many are you having?”
As he repeatedly dipped his tea bag.
Said she, “How many you allow me, sir.”
As she puffed on an embering fag.
“So then two?” he replied, his head cocked to the side
And her lips quivered and smirked.
“I’d like that very much, sir, and I do like it stirred.”
He grabbed his spoon and stirred with a jerk.
“And do you like a squeeze of lemon?”
“No thanks, that makes me a sourpuss, sir.”
“Do you take cream?” “Oh, why yes indeed.
Isn’t that what every lady prefers?”
The two spent the after noon
in courteous company
full of innuendo and
lots of sips of tea.
Published in: on January 29, 2009 at 10:39 pm  Comments (3)  
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Somebody fire the hostage negotiator

money whore
We’ve a perverbial gun to our head
and the hostage negotiator shouts,
“If we don’t want to end up dead,
we’ve got to ‘help’ the Economy out.”
Stimulate the Economy
scrape up what little cash you’ve got
and do a seductive strip tease
to make it’s wallet hard and hot.
Stroke Economy’s down low digit
and make it rise from it’s limp state
you must act now, no time to fidget
’tis your dutiful obligation to fellate
Bury the reason that guides your hands
and says you don’t need something new
you’ve got to work those glands
’cause Ecomony won’t be satisfied til you’ve been screwed.
Breathe hard and deep into Economy’s ear
and speak of all the things you wish you could buy
that’s the arousing words he needs to hear
and he’ll seek out this shady guy
“Uncle Sam, he’s a good friend, and will do anything for me
You and the next two generations could be his whore
You can have everything, dear, he’ll loan you limitless money
Because I know you. You always want more.
You can pay him back, but give the lent money to me
For the pleasure of pleasing me and my knob
Oh, we can stimulate each other mutually
And have fun making many new ‘jobs’.”
That hostage negotiator’s bad advice
has bound us even tighter
and now we’ve got this greedy vice,
a fruitless, empty exciter.
So, whores of the Economy
rest your hopes on mud
or give your pimp autonomy
let it whack it’s own pud.
Published in: on January 24, 2009 at 1:13 pm  Comments (2)  
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Sticked and stoned

The ragings
she’s staging
I’m withdrawn
not engaging
too tired
and quagmired
and feeling
I stooped
you call me stupid
I’m calling
out to cupid
unveil love
to this lubber
or subtract this glue
and give me rubber
Published in: on January 15, 2009 at 11:02 pm  Comments (2)  
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That frozen lump in my breast

Winter is the time
of year
My cold, still heart stops
I am an expressionless
face of chalk
growing too sad and tired to talk
becoming a cancer
that adheres
to the innards of the house
seeking regular chemo treatments
of tea
and then undoing my progress reading mournful poetry
Many things left
unfelt cheer is my fault,
deteriorating relationships
and gardens
until the Spring brings my pardon
Published in: on January 14, 2009 at 8:52 am  Comments (1)  
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Bad news day



When I close my eyes, the curtains start to rise, and Mr. Skeleton comes dancin’ to my dreams. And when I wake at dawn, the dream lingers on, and vainly for better days I pray.

Published in: on January 10, 2009 at 9:39 pm  Comments (4)  
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