Such a sweet face.
But she still doesn't know her place.
When you read your poetry to us,
try not to make such a fuss.
It's difficult to hear you so distraught.
Don't you remember a single thing you were taught?
You were always scolded
for not keeping your hands folded
now why do you grimace
like this?
Try not to stress each syllable so much,
Such a prickly cactus rarely knows our touch.
The rhyming is lovely, exquisite really
Like all of those dresses we bought you, so frilly.
We have a writer in the family, how novel,
But we cannot stand to see you grovel,
in public, how dare you
is that what they teach you in those schools where you
Took all of our money – they didn't teach you a thing,
Why do you groan, didn't you learn how to sing?
Pretty bird in a cage, tweet tweet.
We didn't teach you to be anything but sweet.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Reach for the clouds. . .
Tickle your toes. . .
-
RICK: Hey Rick? DICK: Yea, Dick? RICK: See that sky roll on by? (points) DICK: ...Oh, my... RICK: Don't i-t'almost makes yer wanner....
-
there ain't no other place like you to roam. where I dug in my heels and said "No, I won't come home!" Dancing in the warb...
-
motionless sap. ogling your shadow, you have much thinking to do. has the potassium kicked you in the arse yet-and got you going? you a...
-
lean in a little. say it like it's a secret. make your breath sound like italics. click your tongue against the roof your mouth then you...
-
hunger is sometimes preferable to loneliness. a stomach will twist- but hands become dirty and heavy when full of coins.
-
Tickling toes- there was something about that barefooted madness something about that wistful waist-high wishing and wooshing in the woods, ...
-
sex object. not afraid of the words. I've used many objects for the sake of sex. in fact my body has been pretty disposable- I don't...
-
driving home from the farmer's market- I can't see anything- through this storm- I come home to sleep- with you-rest in your arms fu...
-
as I left the waterfront and I climbed up the sandy stair as always his brothers were first; to greet me. I've had past dealings with th...
-
nipped at the ankles which is how I wander through life sometimes I must be pushed through a door finally opened after years of knock...

No comments:
Post a Comment