Envy in a bright blue dress sways down the street, turning

The doll the child is holding,
Into trash.

Her green plaid skirt –
Is useless in the wake of this drunk apparition,
And you deserve more,


Stress, the suave gentleman in the red suit and orange cuff-links,

Plots his move.

Anger gathers dust around the
Isolated little girl, gathers

Whisper and,

Sets them chattering; I
Deserve better –

Cuff-links glint –

I don’t see why I,
Cannot have that doll,

That she has, it’s,

Not fair to,
Make me wait,

In plain sight, of

With the straight hair,
That’s over there,

With her,

I shall find my flip flops and search you out,
And give you a large, brown flower!

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on August 14, 2017 at 10:28  Leave a Comment  
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Tie the thread to the farmer!

Marry the Bride to the Groom!

Arrange a wedding for five billion people,
We are approaching the end!

The old lady, the Guru and I,
We are making effort.

People are cruel.

Just off the ashen pavement, obsidian in the dark,
A boy is playing PlayStation, so –

Kurukshetra! Ping,
Lakshmi! Ping,
Mohammed! Buddha! Ping, ping.

She looks hypnotised, and I?
Am cold.

People are cruel.

Road rage is the immediate and sudden reconfiguration of,
A prior expectation and we are doing well,

It is in this moment,
A crisis which kills on the streets of America, and

People are cruel.
They have left the Guru here and gone to bed.

♦Picture♦ Personal♦

– evocative, short poetry –

Published in: on August 13, 2015 at 15:51  Leave a Comment  
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