Mrs. Raccoon arranged her collection of river rocks around her tree-stump table and in the light of the candles, sat her children down and Mrs. Owl, perched atop the window-house, began her tale…
You stand before me
Cotton shirt scarcely covering
Your rounded belly
The thin material
A feeble attempt
To hide the burgeoning life
Within your womb
*The polititians are still busily pandering to their rich masters, giving them huge ‘Stimulatory Packages’ so that they can continue to live their lavish lifestyles… with Your money! . . …
I admire so many of you, some of whom have caused me to think, feel, see or live differently through your art… even if only for a moment. This is a sappy but heartfelt message to you.
The Polititians are in Crisis talks all over the world, trying to figure out how they can prop up thier rich masters with your money
O thou,
that siteth next to the photocopier, but not the one you use often, the other one
A politician is a person whose job is to convince the public that what is good for corporations & big business is good for you. . .
We will be together soon in a place where nobody can touch us.
Me and her.
An eternity at hand.
and aren’t you cold from all the heat you release
curling into tendrils in the shape of sanctity
confusing the gods who’d have preferred love
She calls to me from within,
like the soft threads of loves first kiss,
stirring butterflies within my winterish shell.
Her voice, like a thin wisp of a warm breath,
gently caresses my intr…
Some elective surgery will do the trick.
A needle and thread,
Sewing it all together like a patchwork quilt.
Fool them all.
They’ll never notice.
Let me introduce myself.
I’m that girl the boys would take home to their Mum and then ravish at the drive in. That kid who worked hard at school and moved out before she was an inconvenienc…