PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I can’t type worth a damn,
and I don’t know if my words ever reach you
these are the words
in a verse, a mere suggestion,
a fable, symbols in syllables:

the deuces my muse would know
the tally—hoe, might she follow,
we're reminded of  responsibility.
like craven, nursemaids on cable news networks.
they came and go without life, speaking in unrecognizable tongues.

Well, I tell you this,  
I'm taking Proserpina with me by her cold dead hand.
until I can warm her up to me,
back from her mournful spirit world.
she and I are on the GSP heading
for the Jersey Shore,
and after a day in the sun
when we get behind a motel door,
I won’t let her misbehave.
we are gonna go at it hot and heavy,
we are going to pound the white noise out of the waves.