i’m the washed out
walking see
through,
i peer just beyond a
waxy window’s
wane..
into losing battles
while inside
you,
we rate dead lovers
as they pass
through..
in dissipating fog
over drowsy
heads,
++++
minus, of course
the few still passed out
under our
bed.
Crouching Boogeyman
igram: https://www.instagram.com/gèèrumpygorman/?hl=
..but you said they were dead!
flipping off cops and stop
signs, spinning out in
cruise control,
shredding rubber,
bending power
poles,
sitting pretty in
pose perfect
picture,
++++
now clutched cold and
unforgiving in raging
pyre’s roman-
tic fingers.
painting by Anthony Lebedev at – https://www.artmajeur.com/fr/anthony-lebedev/artworks/11631233/after-the-summit
..but fever lingers, even in cinders.
*Loosely inspired by the song above, by a fav band.
i resign,
yet you ‘need’ the tilting
tower of papers
signed,
daunting line after
dotted line,
but why? what power
do these hold
over your
head?
does the absence of
my name haunt
you while
asleep?
and do you
sleep?
will you wrap yourself
up in my transaction
to warm you
in bed?
of course not,
it’s policy..
my pauper’s pen’s low on
life tho i’ve a feeling
there’s ten more
in the wing,
and i’m sure you’d have
me sign each blank
with hand in
a sling,
++++
ok, you
win..
..on the outside, but how’s the weather within?
don’t be the hero
you read
of,
he’s past and
gone,
i’d rather be the zero
than numbers
before it,
why stand up for
something when
you can’t..
even sit
still?
++++
can’t share your milk
no matter how
much you
spill.
Malty Milkman
igram: https://www.instagram.com/gèèrumpygorman/?hl=
image at: http://www.scottmooreart.com/gallery/milkmanprops.htm
..cats are sick from lapping swill.
there’s a hole in
the world..
and through a rusty old
nozzle we pump it
full of hot air
so it’ll swell buoyant
enough to balloon
us into breath
of fresh..
where’s this
blimp headed?
think we’ll land
safely there?
or vanish
midair?
+++
are we too
high to care?
Headful O’Helium
igram: https://www.instagram.com/gèèrumpygorman/?hl=
image: https://www.tumblr.com/search/pixel%20balloon
..whoah.. a flying lawn chair.
*VERY loosely inspired by an event.
poor scrawny blue
canoe shuffles
to shore,
as rocky teeth graze
its stressed
floor,
leaving pores where
none breathed
before,
now docked and hollow,
waves strain to nudge
the hull awake,
a few hairline leaks
plunged its nose
into the drink
so pleased i’ve this
bright a tale
to tell,
++++
about a wrecked
ship’s refusal
to sink.
Cheering Shoreman!
igram: https://www.instagram.com/gèèrumpygorman/?hl=
painting at Simply Cottage at – https://www.simplycottage.com/product/blue-canoe-painting/
..into its own murky hell.
if you’re lurking
veiled in
scene,
please cast me
as reflection
worthy of
awe,
and if you’re just
smoke and wizards
behind the
screen
++++
may you show
me OZ.
Cowardly Tinman
igram: https://www.instagram.com/gèèrumpygorman/?hl=
image of painting by Tim Packer Giclees at – https://tim-packer-fine-arts-store.myshopify.com/products/ruby-slippers-30-by-40-and-36-by-48
image of slippers at – https://gfycat.com/whisperedmediumflickertailsquirrel
i’ll compose us
as fiction,
to preserve you,
in marble,
to stitch your skin
into the page,
i’ll read it over, i’ll stroke
its yellowed gold
fibers,
i’ll rip each crispy leaf
from its binding and
chew, chew to
swallow it
down..
++++
to fully digest it
to feel you
at depths more
profound.
Grumpy Gorman
igram: https://www.instagram.com/gèèrumpygorman/?hl=
image adapted from painting by Butayban at – https://www.pinterest.ca/pin/527906387540481441/
..long as my greedy reader’s allowed.
come on drift in
on daylight’s
dreamy
coast,
but your tattered kite
crumbles into sky’s
churning
sea,
while arms fanned,
i’m here on beach
ever waiting
for you,
in the heart of
blushing
blue,
where every bird
in palm tree
is lonely..
++++
and the palm
trees too.
Grumpy Gorman
igram: https://www.instagram.com/gèèrumpygorman/?hl=
image adapted from art by cocoparisienne at – /https://pixabay.com/illustrations/island-sea-fantasy-lonely-art-1721196/
i drip inky drool on
balcony void
of you,
think i heard the alpha’s
hard-on rage
on past,
and the gripes
of ghost
kids
their kites still
litter the
curb,
catching shrapnel off
another Fight
Club night,
your simple song
now writes
itself,
and yes, this fold me
in chair spells
my doom,
but if I teeter
on railing’s
ledge..
+++
a few inches closer..
i’ll punch the
moon.
Grumpy Gorman
igram: https://www.instagram.com/grumpygorman/?hl=
image: https://www.cloudynights.com/gallery/image/95931-moon-from-my-balcony/
..what? You want one too?
