Alphabet Altercations

People waching,
poets writing,
"Polly want a cracker?"
parrots ask you.

Quarters, dimes, nickles, jingle in her pocket.
Quickly, Tommy runs to Mommy,
quiet, Tommy is, staring up, bright eyed, hand outstreched, Benny boy on the side.
Quality ice cream, freshly made at Barbra's Ice Cream Shoppe.
Quivering fingers hold two Vanilla cones, one for Tommy and one for Mommy
Quips come easy from Benny boy's mouth, Tommy retaliates.
'Quit it you two', Mommy says, her eyes gentle, as Tommy begrudgedly gives Benny a taste
Quite sweet the ice cream tastes when one shares it, you think?


XD XD XD XD That sucked. XD

Rewind:
Remembering your name was the easiest thing I ever did--
reverberations soaked my tongue and I could
really taste the consonants swirling into the sides of my cheeks and
running to the back of my throat. Upon the
realization that I could say it as much as I liked, I sang it,
ravelled it unto the air, each note nice and separate and
ratified, like an anthem.
Reaching to your lips, I spoke my own name,
releasing you into songs of your own, and we sang to each other,
reckless and ready.

So selfish!
Sally thought
she can easily get
some money by
stealing from her granny.

(lame lame lame lame lame lame but I tried)

Taste the lies on your
tongue, let your eyes burn
to dust while you wait.
Tired. She is as she
thinks whether or not
to believe.

Under oaken arms, we can't help but bend and break and fall--
using stone souls, kept under a cloak of pearl dawn and
umbrella willow leaves, we hold ourselves,
unable to draw away fervorous fingers from our ribcage enclaves, cut
up our sides, straight up into our hearts--
upwind, we sing, soft and slow and we hope that no one will hear
us in the choir of the wind and the willow leaves,
upwards to soprano and down to bass and tremble, larynx, tremble with
ubiquitous trembles, shooting through the sounds and whispers,
undercutting confidence.

Vertiginous: she stands waiting on – this ventricle's
vertigo slithers. Key is keep on moving, she shakes,
verbatim of her mother, plunging deep down, and it’s the
vernacular of the prince still crowned and crowing,
valour in his very bones while his sword sails upwards –
vexing as the marrow is caught. And she says, I have waited
very long.

Laundry:

White walls closing in
Washing machine tumbling clothes
Water, soap, and washcloths going round and round and round.
Whipping in the wind
Wool socks and waist coats.
Wisteria jumpers and a wine red dress.
Wide open spaces
With fresh spring air
What could be better than doing the laundry?

Wait, I'm on X, aren't I? Sorry 'bout that. I'll change my post.

Xenophobia:

Xenophobia; they sneak up on you like
Xenon, like
xanthopterin in butterfly wings.
X-rated, they should be, those terrifying fools.
Xenophiles are dead in mind for choosing against
Xenophobia; the fear that controls my life.

You don't look like you did two
years ago. I long for your older eyes like a fire
yearns for air, like a child
yells for attention, for the tickle of his mother's
yellow hair.

Zig

Zinc animals line the walls,
Zebras braying against the hot sunlight,
Zealots clamour for their skins and
Zoology never looked so good.

Zag

average it out and we're at the middle:

a place where you say thank you
as i say thank you.
a very thankful place.
a place anyone would be glad to be.

and yet i can't help but think,
"another day, another grateful smile,
and where are the people that think i'm useless?
and where are the people who doubt me?
and where are the people who push me against the wall
and shake out my pockets
and leave me grasping for air --
alive more than i ever am when you say thank you
and i say thank you,
always, always in perfect time?"

Believe, my love, have faith in something
better than this, a place where all our
battles will be fought for us, and no
bogeymen can hide beneath our
beds to haunt us anymore.

Greenness, the color my hearts lack
greatly. No life, no sound, no lithe.
Ghastly is now my image and forgotten is my time.
God, can I ask for a chance to return? Retrieve all that is
good and bring back not the bad but
graced.

Give me the chance, give me the light--a
gaunt and gaudy return.

damage: shattered and dispersed,
dipped in the afternoon that shines through the window,
drips through through the shutters and onto the wooden floor.

dad's left me in pieces.