RISQUE REVUE

Scrape, scrape, scrape.....
(the sound of a push broom)
*cough* *hack* *choke*
(the sound of inhaled particles)
$^&%@#^%!!!!!!!!!
(various ephithets followed by a sneeze of Tyrannus proportions)

I feel so much better. My, how time flies.
Speaking of flies..........................
(where's a chameleon when you really need one?)

I actually did rate and review that last little offering, didn't I, Jay?
I just didn't do so publically.

For any of those else who read it -
I wonder now, at the joke.
To disappear......
and still be "here."

What a charming thought.
(There's a story in there, somewhere...)

Metre and rhyme always taps my toe
(rhythmist that I am)
But like a scowly old songwriter - it depends entirely how it rolls off the tongue -
let alone, snaps a guitar string.
Or kinks up a piano key.

Those eternal melodies of life
the ones that scuttle through a day
on into a twilight
and keep that soundtrack going,
and going, and going.
Like the Bells of Saint Something.

Structure is good.
Like the balance that keeps things from falling over.
Especially if they were meant to remain upright.
Like a sort of gravity of the literal.
Otherwise, where would we be?
All floating upward toward a ceiling....
(which perhaps wouldn't be so bad)
but would give us all the Dickens of a time
trying to record personal impressions
in any manner of applied consistency.

(and what does this all have to do with poetry, anyway?)
A good question.
Deserves a better answer.
I'll turn it over.
(and just like a pancake)
It's ready when it's done on the other side.

CM












Captain Midnight
Just let me laugh when it's funny
and when it's sad, let me cry