Cat’s Act
I spend my time in a tavern
named the Lemon Melon,
overlooks Sunset Inlet,
sits next to Craven’s Caverns.
A beloved troupe is passing through
dubbed the Cat’s Act.
I was eighteen when I first saw the spectacle
now I’m nineteen, and a real expert after I won
the act’s Cats.
How’s the show?
Some downers may wonder.
One must watch to know
or hear me talk more.
They dance the wolf flow,
display art with tar overlay
then put on a play
they called the real fun funeral.
They love to say
Nag a Ram!
After counting lambs.
When they recite the story
Of the Night Thing
even the Cider cried.
Yet everyone mopes and moans
when they recite their poems
don’t take note of the tones.
The crowd inevitably drifts off
to sleep during the one about fritd’s peels.
When the crowd awoke from their drunken stupor at dawn
the Cat’s scat.
It’s like they were never there
just listen, It’s silent.
The Lug Bugs
A bug
the size of a lug
nut strutted:
head butting every
red-muttering
said-stuttering
lady beetle.
Soon all lice and mites
and cluster flies
spied the pie
on the window side:
The Lugs slugged any bug that came too close. So,
Remi and Demi protested
in the Garden Square but
they were bested by ants
that pranced over their exo-
skeletons which turned them into
gelatin. Then
when the rest of the hungry
bugs organized
they lost their lives
to the hives
of hornets
and wasps;
Stingers—the bringers of
order and patrollers
of the border—are allowed
great quantities of grape-flavored
pleasers from the freezer.
In the Capital under
the steps; the Representatives of
Red Caterpillars,
and the Council of Crickets and
the Board of Butterflies
appealed to the Congress of
Cockroaches and the
President of Praying-Mantises:
no one
could get
a word
in over the
Senate of
Cicadas.
Finally!The Directorate
of Dragonflies asked why?anyone needed pie,
and the meeting adjourned
before morning!
Train of Thinking
Crazy. Punctuation anD
indentation, however.
Nothing is so disjointed as the train of thought.
Must
derail to arrive at the station.
Have you ever thought
sidewalks and clouds are similar in
that they can both be
seen ? And
loud noises are like bright colors
because they both
corroded the railway.
Pendulum Swings
The pendulum swings, sways
back and forth,
ticking tocking
clocking days
pass before hours,
hours pass before minutes,
and the pendulum sways
forth and back,
never stays
in one spot for a second
longer than it must,
and the hands move
over the face with gust-
o’mocking those who
dared ask the pendulum to henceforth
cease its oscillating
motion and measure the worth
of immobility,
of stillness,
of quiet and understandable willingness
to remember that the back and forth, and back again
of the pendulum must someday halt
(Then swallow a pill filled with salt)
Surely, that would kill time.
Doors
Sitting outside an unlocked door
on porch steps afraid to knock
(no one will answer).
The entryway seems miles away
(but it’s only a couple of feet).
Stamped a foot for inaction.
I’ve jumped through flaming hoops,
hopped over angry cobras,
and stooped to the lion’s maw
but stolling up to someone’s
threshold is a feat I’ve yet to
meet.
I believe the homeowners will accept a
bad house guest or, slam
their mahogany portal in my face.
(Both situations are
statistically likely).
So instead, I look to the east and
west of me and see no solitude,
hundreds
(and perhaps millions)
of others sit on porch steps
unwilling to knock on
unlocked doors.
And we hear hundreds
(if not billions)
of people behind the plaster
and stone alone, too
afraid
(of inviting
someone in)