Conglomeration poems by twos

[mousey1]

Conglomeration poems by twos
to be read in stages
in pages of time

I tried writing this contrived
in intimate spaces of paces and lines

but then said..."fuck it"
and just wrote it down
each word it's own marching orders...

[mousey1]

deathwish
lifewish
codependency

and there in stars and distant life
encircled by the gravity
sunshine smiles on


***************************************


fists like feathers she'll slap you drymouthed
eyes like pinions she'll stare you to the ground
a farce of boring proportions spittle fired whine

I picture myself
slightly painted and thrown in a corner

little pinion searching for the right gear
slap it into go
foot to the floor
acing for the first page
feather light touch
cereal writer
fruit loops and rice chex
a fine breakfast meal
for the unobservant to feast on
cognizant eyes awake refreshed
a new day dawns fragrant crisp
no idle time to wait for noodles to rise
leap into your day
soggy smiles
wet steaming after a night of dreaming
marching on squares
to the left


of zero

[mousey1]

the beauty of zero
surrounds on all sides
accepts the emptiness
holds everything inside
the beauty of zero
is you can always add to
and it's not really nothing
it holds me and you



you wrap your truth in colorful packaging
mine glistens from telephone poles just out of reach
where only the wind listens
howling high
foraging pockets of doubt
looking for a pencil

[mousey1]

where do all the words go
the unwanted deleteable
the unrepeatable
the spoken unheard
the written unread
where do they go
once they've left our heads
targeted trenchants with a penchant
for trouble
all those frightened no shows
yellow bellied rescinders
collaborators reaching out
in lengthy sentences
gnarly fingers of doubt transpired
insistent to get out
but like the sticky-tongued toad
slaked back
swallowed whole
where do they go the
muted, mutable, immutable
words
do they dissipate
harmlessly
or do they lodge in our brains
choke in our throats
rot out dispositions
where do all the words go
determined to get out
completely unwanted
where do they go

raked to the back of the mind
like twigs and leaves
left to vegetate
sprout weeds
that pop up the next year
and the next year
and the next year
after that
heaped up words unsaid
piled high in heads
that spurt out
when you least expect
and make silly poemlike fools of themselves


**************************************


the less you say
the more chance you have of getting it right
love speaks in the fewest words possible

to say more is vanity

understanding reached
should not be picked to the bone

[mousey1]

Alice takes a bath

my loofah scrubs away all my integrity
and leaves me laughing on my journey down the drain
makeshift rafts contrived of anything that floats
carry me idly past parallel planes and dreamlands remote
envy spoils and vanity's contagion ushers on
complacent streams foiled at every twist and turn
content themselves by pooling deep in murky puddles overflowing
divergent pathways merge at points of no returning, introspect
as deadend weights and solid gates hold fast the grated nerves not quite past feeling
icebergs fail to see the melted waste of warning and proceed
their daring of the fates is paid in the ticking of the clock hands beating
and I have got this gift you see, that in my mind keeps turning
where no amount of purge or stardust waving washes clean
while in the midst of frothy suds and seas of foaming
expectation doffs the hat to drowning foes still flailing
and I can smile and overturn the soapdish floating
and flounder round the surface fresh as air

[mousey1]

the widow of understatement
carried on
in slight manner
easing her words out
onto the page
making sure inane rage
blurred out all motivation

women take the thrust
rarely deliver it
eye-opening can of worms
candle-lit sentiments
egregious suffering on the verge

wallow-eyed she looked upon her discontent
and picking up her spoon
she scooped it down
unswallowable

[mousey1]

"writing their conclusions on the wall"

the alphabet of sound
plays quietly on the floor
amusing eyes
tricking the mind
into silence
squat little letters
pace tired tirades
march in quick time
through years come of age
common sense loiters
peeking around corners
before stepping through
marking the page
drawing the line daintily
watching the drying phase
of every daub of color
every rainbow splatter
every splayed conclusion
on the wall

[mousey1]

it's too easy to take the offensive and dine on sensitive thoughts
spitting out the seeds to suit yourself
where no amount of reasoning can enlighten shadowed neglect
easy travels the well trod path smooth swept
and finds the steady gait that fits it best
easy aims its way and not too often trips or slips on wet
it spys the solid ground before each step
then fashions on
as easy as the penchant for regret
it sheeps along
like all the rest...


just what do you say at break of day
when you think that you've got it wrong
what do you say
when your mind's parked at "Hey! What the fuck's going on?"
well the truth is best left to the answering
has the perfect line for the job
but the truth is as skittish
as truth tends to be
and so often
too often's a snob

[mousey1]

maybe you break your own dreams
ever think of that
a heart's embrace is not something to take lightly
all or nothing
either or
can leave you feeling pretty empty
take this that I offer you
take this and more
ah, but no
all or nothing
either or
such strength carved in sinew and bone
and I the no nonsense girl
winked and swore
staring at closed doors
for an opening

staring at closed doors
for an opening
gets you nothing more
than nearsighted vision...
it's like
pressing yourself against religion
propping yourself on a shelf...
might get you a good dusting
but precious little else
and staring at you
is like staring at me
who is staring at you who is
staring at me
and the staring
is wearing
a hole
in the two

Dr Seuss was a sensible man
Who
came to a point in life when
he just couldn't stand it
so he turned onto rhyme
and nonsensical habits

Come join me in whoville
for whoville's the place
where you can banter and mutter or
spread green lime on your face
you don't have to listen
you don't have to talk
you can squawk like a chicken
you can squeak when you walk
you can always eat jello
or streudel on yams
or ice cream
or you scream
or pickled egg jams
come join me in whoville
there's no need to call
the door's always open
we'll write conclusions on the wall
our rainbow letterings
layering side by side

[mousey1]

All we faustian slaves
traders (traitors)
wheeler dealing

impressive fortune to cloak ourself
our spinning wheels of discontent
land on 0 and we believe it


weaned from the nipple
absented from the negative suckle
fresh faced wide eyed wonder hides the shadows
highlights the scene

and I smile
delighted