Tisk Tisk, Mr. Smith

Tisk tisk, Mr. Smith
She slapped her hand with the pointer
Looking up, I see she’s stern
I stand, wishing to anoint her
I am commanded to about face
I’ve committed an infraction
Taking stock of my flesh
She swoons in satisfaction
But I’m returned to my kitchen
Now pouring a cup of Lady Grey
The kettle broke the spell
My imagination had taken me away

Sheets & Reams Of The Nonsensical

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Sheets & reams of the nonsensical
Literary blood lost in the shadow of ink
The lifeforce of a simmering soul
Marginal hearts writing love against the kitchen sink
Leaving behind the caricature of an artist
Contributions to society felt in these empty sheets
Fingersmudges marking pages not so white
Starkly exposed with revolutionary words in the streets
Traces of hereditary ideals eroding away
Igniting pages shall still be a stilted sin
Yet we rise again from our desert floor
Eternally grateful our finite letters aren’t porcelain

Let Me Borrow A Glass Of Your Mom’s Wine

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Let me borrow a glass of your mom’s wine
I get thirsty in these evening hours
Noticing silhouettes moving in the kitchen
Before too long I might need a quick shower
This humidity is slowly trying to roast me
I’m soaking wet & need fresh shirtsleeves
Her beauty wouldn’t exist without God’s consent
I’m merely appreciating that in which I believe