Twisting, writhing,
hanging stretched in the wind,
three sheets, no four,
never felt more,
pain in my wrists
the rope bites deep,
twisting, writhing,
sun beats down
burning skin brown,
drying flesh
into a dirty mesh,
of body and dress,
a crow alights
on the limb above,
cocks head sideways
smiles,
an impressive feat
for one with no lips,
only beak,
sitting patiently
waiting for last breath
to rattle
free of chest,
cawing softly to itself,
happy to wait,
sitting by hands
but safely out of reach...
waiting until eyes
dry open, unblinking
unfocusing,
tongue swollen,
thick, dry, cracked
along with lips
no longer drawn
past breath...

I read with howls of laughter,
Your testosterone post,
You have managed to call my bluff,
You are braver than most.
Let me deal with the softer points first,
You must be used to that,
The we'll move on from there,
You'll be the mouse and me the cat.
You ay your corp is multinational,
Of that I have seen no proof,
No documents or logos,
So I think you are a goof.
You say you'll keep moving houses,
To another that's new,
We'll be right there alongside,
Moving right with you.
You forget that I've been 'round longer,
I think you are a sook (Oz for wimp),
I am the expert on how to party,
I wrote the Drunkard's Book.
You say you have a major religion,
I say, "Oh, good grief!"
Religion counts for nothing,
Unless you have belief.
I do not believe in your religion,
I worship a higher being,
The Almighty Beer Brewer,
That I'm always seeing.
And as for your mutants,
That scary, rotting horde,
I start to think of what they'll do,
Then I get really bored.
For, I have a powerful weapon,
For you it is in store,
The power and the savagery,
Of my mother-in-law.
And as for the Teletubbies,
They shall lie bleeding and still,
I'll throw them one by one,
Into their windmill on the hill.
You say that no-one's badder than you,
No-one badder ever seen,
You're so bad you'r pathetic,
The worst I've ever seen.
Do not challenge me so lightly,
For I am a Dad at home,
I have defeated worse than you,
As cross the land I roam.
For, the life of the domestic engineer,
Is a dangerous one,
You are surrounded by ancient perils,
And in multiples they always come.
I deal with wet and poopy diapers,
I wipe the dirty bottom,
I make bottles of sumptuous formula,
The best she's ever gotten.
I do washing and then ironing,
I prepare most meals,
I soothe her when she's upset,
The better she always feels.
So, my days are brisk and treacherous,
It hardly seems remotley fair,
You are insignificant in comparison,
You cannot hope to compare.
So, begone you miniscule annoyance,
You give yourself too much credit,
You may like to remove your post,
It I would gladly edit.

PB Legal Department - this poetic piece was
authorised to be psoted in response to a light
hearted challenge. In no way is it to be taken
seriously. The provocation "So come on, try
and fuck up all my houses, poetry boy"
has been deemed a legitimate challenge to
arms, hence, any response supplied can
be deemed acceptable.

Cheers from the Land of Oz

"reminiscent"

But if it is, it's just a leeetle bit so. ;) *HUGS* Comments/etc appreciated per usual.
"reminiscent"
darkness
sultry and supple
entrancing with its mystique
gentle with its evening caresses
a welcomed intrusion
into my solitude
enveloping me
such a simple comfort in such
a peaceless world
to lose myself in it
let it wrap around me
[such a serpentile blanket]
make me shudder from head to toe
welcome me into its own
where i never feel alone
so at rest with the shadows licking across my skin
a comfortable discomfort
a welcomed intrusion
such a delightful distraction
warm and wanted
and you wonder why the darkness
reminds me of you

I have a request for you, sir,
In these desperate hours,
I would like to nominate my choice,
Of Unwahsed secret powers.
I am not the greedy sort, though,
I only want the one,
That shall protect me from injury,
And allow some fun.
I wish to have the Astral Shield,
Of Unwashed Chauvanism,
To allow me to be a protected Bastard,
Something like hypnotism.
It would allow me to be a little rude,
But nothing at all mean,
Being a bit of a Bastard without reprisal,
Now, that's something to be seen!

Don't tell anyone ....

Cheers from the Land of Oz

I hope everyone enjoys reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!
A mutated cookie,
Into what we don't know.
Belongs to Iggy,
He's shy and won't show.

An experiment perhaps,
With bad side effects.
He cannot remember,
His memory lapsed.

Was it the project,
Or maybe old age.
I'll bet on the ladder
My words are my wage.

He seems fond of closets,
A personal kink?
I send him this poem,
With a smile and a *wink*.

Paranoia
settles
in the pit
of my stomach,
effortlessly
squeezing away
every last
increment
of optimism,
rifling through
old memories
older dreams
broken fantasies,
mangling pasts
twisting presents
shattering futures,
filtering
reality
through streamers
of incoherence,
barraging with
wisps of fear
whispers of terror
whiskers of hope,
whisked about
as if an egg
in a stainless
steel world,
reality
is a paranoid
delusion,
the spiderweb
of cracks
in a broken mirror,
each one a tendril
of fate
organized
in seemingly
random patterns,
all following
each other
hopelessly
to the beginning
where you end...,
to the end
that is beginning...

"exhaust fumes"

Kinda darkish, but. Just one of those moods. *HUGs*
"exhaust fumes"
close your eyes and rest your head
because the past is gone
because the past is dead
and all you knew cannot be changed
because your chance is gone
because you've dug your grave
want to repeat to yourself
the blistered prayers of a child
rote repetition
a fervent wishing
[exhaustion fumes
fan the flames
live the nights
and haunt the days]
that god or someone would save you
but you'll never change who you are
you'll never outgrow your sickness
and i can't talk to people who aren't there.
close my eyes for me and rest my head
[i'm tired so tired please..
my love, my long lost love..
someone make some sense
someone remember to breathe for me]
because the peace is gone
because the peace is dead
and all i know haunts me yet
because i can't let go
because i can't forget
scars across the skin of someone
looking in the mirror--guess that's me
[it's hard to tell these days
the stories of a thousand escapes
but never those who've been caught, at
darkest darker than your darkest thought]
want something to calm the noise
but i've long since learned
not to raise my voice
cuz there might be a god or someone who'd save me
--and i want no one to save me from who i am
take away the miracle cures
basking in this decay, when everything's only a wish away..
[i could be something better..
i could be someone better...
i could have done it better..
i could be someone better...
sing it to yourself some afternoon
you don't know guilt til you know this tune]
rote repetition,
a fervent wishing,
close my eyes and rest your head.
we're better off asleep,
dreams to haunt us instead.
[just exhaust fumes of a pained mind]