some pomes

I’m not sure why in the hell OD insists on formatting this entry weird, and shoving it to the middle of the page instead of nicely aligned like it should be. *grrrrrrrr*

(nevermind, NOW it’s ok. *rolls eyes*)

from a few nites ago….

something love-coated
words wrapped in summer shawls
spread warmth– remind me of home.
friends with faulty time//compass
skills find me, better late than nil,
shower me with handmade treasures.
((and hair care products, of the peach
smelling variety. simple pleasures…))
surreal moments pass– abnormal
chatter that is normal to us,
taking place in a setting
not altogether abnormal to me.
they depart with the dinner call.
[this time i have no keys.]
©p!bp/4.23.06/330am
——————————————–

Memo
Attn: Staff
Think carefully before you speak.
Take care to notice when your
words mistreat. How do you know
who hears the syllables you utter, which
ears are around when in frustration
or indifference you mutter annoyance
about “another cutter” or roll eyes
skyward at an “oh, so borderline!”
display? Pause briefly……
it may as well be me who you
dismay, with scars up my forearm
that weren’t put there in play.
Consider that these patients
may have been your colleagues
on any other day.
©p!bp/4.23.06/430am
——————————————————-

enigmatic
eloquent words, clever phrases
evade my craving poet’s pen(cil).
emotions flit//fly to & fro,
escaping capture, perfecting
elusive maneuveres and
eloping before being pinned down,
endless in their refusal to be penned in.
expletives dot the peripherals,
emoting my frustration but only
expanding on my word-wanting,
executing defiant writer’s block,
engaging my mind in its
enduring game of hide-n-seek.
©p!bp/4.23.06/445am