Come n' Catch Me

cat burglar men manicuring lives for
for the non living with fungus in
gritty bloom under their
nails,

kicked indents in so many bulges
in fuck’it buckets, spilled hot
garbage from jaws o’ many
many tipped over pails,

IV bag kid’s missing out on
the cloud of butterflies
unleashed in each
stumbling
fail,

chasin’ all those nuthins through
blazing hoops, in hopes of
catchin’ a twitch of
cat’s own tail.

image: https://www.pinterest.ca/pin/389420699005632753/

image: https://fineartamerica.com/featured/cats-dancing-on-halloween-margaryta-yermolayeva.html?product=art-print

Night Train (A Whistle through Veins)

varied configurations
of the same concept

still yielding piss n’ salt
enough to mix up
the results

and if i’m known to my few friends for my best
and they just bury the rest, my floating
body still sees no stop nearin’
for broken road’s
rest,

i’ll pull the cord, sound the
whistle n’ wait here
anyway

leavin’ the rest
to mess with
fate.

image: https://fineartamerica.com/featured/boy-on-a-train-joel-smith.html

image: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/British_Railways_Mark_1

Tug of War

round here the shiny toys
are shaped like
tiny boys,

but not all boys like their toys
revved and red, or dangling bare-
like girl’s shiny hoop earrings
as trophies ’round a
rubber neck,

cash the check and break the
promise, default on action,
betray self-respect,

expect some frayin’ in
the rope, cause this
tug o’ war ain’t
done yet.

image: https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Painting-TUG-O-WAR/290776/132329/view

image: https://pixels.com/featured/tug-of-war-patrick-whelan.html

pour a lil' more in there, cowboy.

rush the course and boot
the horse as least ugly
race-day habit,

grab at hands in skies, luke
but use your force only
with gentler purpose,

stopped a buckshot with my scrawny
teeth n’ now i’m stuck sippin’
slow at snow meltin’
as milkshake,

more shivers n’ flake outs than
flexin’ tuff n’ hot stuff

n’ Dan shed his skin like life’s
ne’er been served up rough
enough.

image: https://m.imagekind.com/Tired-Horse_art?IMID=d20895c4-4abd-48f3-b0cf-3fb99ca8c338

image: https://fineartamerica.com/featured/lost-horses-hseyin-takn.html

Jenny Had a Moon Face

jenny had a moon face

and if you caught the dark side
on the wrong night, in the
best light, you could see
a star throbbing on
the inside,

craters left on pallid surface-
old blasts n’ flagpole holes
from outer limit,
deep-space
haters,

so i crash land on jenny’s
moon face

and seize liberties of setting up shop
where, whether or not i’m
even needed there,

as last membrane between cocked
cannons and her imminent
distraction,

destruction’s forces can’t
snuff a porch lit
passion.

image: http://kazuya-akimoto.com/2008/2008contents/7268gallery5.html

image: http://kazuya-akimoto.com/2008/2008contents/7268gallery5.html

Band-Aid Balloon (Dirty Rubber)

i feel so light beneath,
i could write the sky
for river driftin’
by in dreams,

floaty letters bob all round
in soft and loose lip
formations,

then in one deep but embellished gasp,
flood o’ words balloon lungs
for boy’s optimal
respiration.

and for words of hurt, well-
scuffed boot’s covered the
last molehill with dirt,
and feet just left
the station.

image: https://photos.com/featured/four-red-heart-shaped-balloons-up-in-air-elineart.html?product=art-print

image: http://projectpicasso.com/painting-reproduction-banksy-heart-balloon.html

Dried Up Plasticine

smell flint’s first kiss
with gasoline,

two drops of strychnine
in the anthropocene,

man made the masks and time’s
dried up whatever’s not
plasticine

swarm o’ kids left out last night
on gloomy dining table
in spinnin’ room’s
green gables

like dried rapeseed ground
into veins on gloomy
table,

but there’s a room here and
it’s callin’ if you’re able
to reach me through
mind’s ocean.

image: https://saumaydublish.wordpress.com/2012/08/10/dinner-table/

image: https://fineartamerica.com/featured/play-doh-work-doh-ellis-rosen.html

marbled eyes

i’ve accounted for each last
hour spent in every day but
during the recount of lost
days i wandered off and
have been dropping dead
n’ some bread crumbs
along lit path ever
since,

thumpin’ head ‘gainst week old
loaf of dried out marble rye,
lips all pinched up
in wince.

image: https://dribbble.com/shots/2674358-Hansel-Gretel-Breadcrumbs

image: http://cheftessbakeresse.blogspot.com/2010/05/white-on-darka-marble-bread-with-twist.html