Humor and Profundities

​ 
Mr Logan

Good bye Mr Logan
You grabbed her tit
The party’s over
Here’s my fist
How’s your threshold for pain
 

 
Plastic bags

I sit
No sound
I utter
The fridge
Drones on
Intruding
Upon wind
Rustling by
Down streets
Filled with discarded plastic bags
Tumbling
Into gutters
Washing, churning
Breaking down
Through clogged sewer pipes
Emerging
Blasting
On frothing waves
Crushing in
Upon the shore
Breathing, beating
Back to us

 
 
Sanctuary

In a life and time
With so many ups and downs
Open and closed spaces
Even at peace
There will always be a need
For sanctuary
 

 
Queen of the dirty laundry

I am queen of the dirty laundry
But cooking, washing dishes
And scrubbing toilet bowls
Are also in my realm
 
No king decides to join me here
No man at any helm
Of my fleet that sails
Through sudsy water
While never leaving home
 

 
 
In a mother’s cry
​
One treat drop fell
A child was lost
Ripped from her bosom

 
Foot in mouth disease

They told me not to do it
And
I did it anyway
And
There it went
Into my mouth
 
I tried to stop it
The ceaseless flow
Tongue dancing
Saliva churning
 
It had already bypassed all forms
Of anatomical control
And tapped somewhere in there
Beneath the medulla
K+ ions synapsing
Long after the unbalanced electrons
Being so disrupted and displaced
Into the pre-space – time – event state
That xxpressed
In the most inappropriate way
resounding shock waves
charging along neurons
through this scrambled network
where if finally landed
in my mouth