Love On Baker Street

Pashto

The alley cat
adroit, this dumpster diver
feigning rabid and fierce
when cornered,
hardly kin
to the junk yard dog
claiming rusted fenders
vindictive in fang
remembering the boots
Then there's the spider monkey
jerking for the crowd
fence climbing crazy
and the parrot
trained
to say what he's taught.
The kitten, the puppy,
the hawk and
the bee
He's been them all
in the fields
of tangled fences.
But now, just now
high on the slopes
of Pamir
he is The Snow Leopard
sleek and stealthy
hunted for the rosettes
isolated by choice.
In the winter
he'll descend, but
you wont see this
crepuscular cat, nor
hear him in the brush.
Just now, he lies thick
to the wind
a tail for blanket
and waits,
this prowling panther
dreaming
that Darwin has missed
the next link.
 
Always enjoy your work pen, but this I enjoyed a lot you captured the atmosphere and tension in your build up here very well imho
 
Thanks todski. I take that as high compliment coming from someone with your writing skills.
 
I've read Pashto 3 times trying to decide why I like it.
Eh, fuck it, I just do :D

Well, the truth is, (and shhhh..it's a secret) you just can't go wrong including snow leopards.
Even if the writing sucks, who doesn't like snow leopards?
~excluding the guy who's sheep disappear
 
Madness

We're taught to fear
when the lights go out
and the boogeymen
come to play
but what if the switch
is broken, and light
becomes our ghost?
Madge pours you a Folgers
donning her lily white fingers
while dove soap
spurs garrulous giggles
to bluebirds
counting their young
~you're soaking in it.
You count the seconds
of a traffic light,
wonder
why the hummingbirds are
and
why they do
for a flippant God
a dance of jester lark,
an ounce of nothing
in a world gone mad.
Contrails etch your
broken mind
withering the wherefore
and the why
best ceded to the infallibilaty
of child-like ignorance
so far removed.
The blueprints
you pull and pencil,
trace in malediction
wont go away
and in the end, when
a train station isn't
far enough
go to the river, and
let it take you
pull you under
and answer
the questions
your screaming mind
demands.
 
We're taught to fear
when the lights go out
and the boogeymen
come to play
but what if the switch
is broken, and light
becomes our ghost?

Madge pours you a Folgers
donning her lily white fingers
while dove soap
spurs garrulous giggles
to bluebirds
counting their young
~you're soaking in it.
You count the seconds
of a traffic light,
wonder
why the hummingbirds are
and
why they do
for a flippant God
a dance of jester lark,
an ounce of nothing
in a world gone mad.
Contrails etch your
broken mind
withering the wherefore
and the why
best ceded to the infallibilaty
of child-like ignorance
so far removed.

The blueprints
you pull and pencil,
trace in malediction
wont go away
and in the end, when
a train station isn't
far enough
go to the river, and
let it take you
pull you under
and answer
the questions
your screaming mind
demands.

Those two bits are tossing and turning in my head. If they actually get up and go somewhere I'll log their journey here.
 
Just remember~buzzed writing is drunk writing and crashes are sure to happen.

So you saying I should get my drink on before taking your words for a spin. I'll drive 'em fast and hard, end up on the side of the road in a multi-word pile up, wondering where the hell I am.
 
That's how it works, trix
I had my poetic license revoked for life long ago, but i take to the highway anyway
Renegade me, ignoring the curves, stop signs, and finger flips.
Oh, and don't believe it when they reduce the charge to careless musing and tell you you're getting off easy.
 
Last edited:
That's how it works, trix
I had my poetic license revoked for life long ago, but i take to the highway anyway
Renegade me, ignoring the curves, stop signs, and finger flips.
Oh, and don't believe it when they reduce the charge to careless musing and tell you you're getting off easy.

Well I'm too short to see over the top of the Webster's unabridged, so I never had a license to begin with.
 
Really?
I got mine from the Wong Chung Woo Academy. An online university.
A 3 day course
The Chinese don't fuck around
 
Well, the truth is, (and shhhh..it's a secret) you just can't go wrong including snow leopards.
Even if the writing sucks, who doesn't like snow leopards?
~excluding the guy who's sheep disappear
zebras are up there
its a black and white thing
and Oh those lines
plus they don't fuck with sheep.
 
I actually was staring down 2 zebras a week ago. All i could think of, is~what the fuck can ya do with that?
Zebs are only good in children's books
And snow leopard's fuck the sheep before eating them, just cuz they can.
 
If I were a child
I could call you my friend
Save a place for you
At the table and everywhere I went
Introduce you to everyone I meet
Tell them all about you
Since they can't hear you speak
They'd smile and nod
Say a word or two in greeting
Yes, if I were a child
That's just what I'd do

Alas I'm grown these many years
And when I hear you in my ear
I cannot share the joy
Of your phantom grace
Or explain away
The smile on my face
A memory is what I say
But I feel you with me
Every day
 
The way it drifted off into rhyme at the tail had me wondering if i had written it.
Funny thing is, all the friends from the sandbox and little league are all gone now.
I've tried to reconnect, but it never goes like i think it should.
I show em my rusty tonka truck with the missing wheel, and they point to their new Benz in the 6 car garage.
I know that bitch will never fit in the sandbox, so i move on.
 
Which makes me think of one of my fave movies
The big chill
I often think i'm willam hurt, but wonder if maybe i was alex too.
But i was never the others, so what the fuck did i come back for?
 
Now i have "second that emotion" stuck in my head. Great soundtrack.
The only flaw in the movie, is the ending. Hollywood bullshit spinning a fairy tale.
William Hurt would not have been asked to stay, nor would he have.
Real life? In sleepless in seattle, only one would have made the top.
Now breakfast club is more complex. I knew how to play the game back then. So i made sure i was a little of everyone so i could fly under the radar.
But you notice? The nerd doesn't get laid, and he does the paperwork. At least john hughes didn't shove roses up our ass.
So, in the big chill, which one were you?
 
Hi friends. Just stopping by to say hello to you P-poet and Trix.

I gotta run, been busy lately, but I still think about y'all and still pop in to read your wonderful poetry.:rose:

Bye now!
 
Hi friends. Just stopping by to say hello to you P-poet and Trix.

I gotta run, been busy lately, but I still think about y'all and still pop in to read your wonderful poetry.:rose:

Bye now!

Hi Love!

Long time no chat, swing back around when you've got a few. I miss seeing you around :kiss:
 
Hi Love!

Long time no chat, swing back around when you've got a few. I miss seeing you around :kiss:

Awe, miss you, too, Trix. There's a new boyfriend and he lives quite close to me. Been taking up quite a bit of my time, if you know what I mean.

*reaches for fan because she no longer needs a vibrator*

Ha! :kiss:

Geez, did I really just go there? :eek:
 
Awe, miss you, too, Trix. There's a new boyfriend and he lives quite close to me. Been taking up quite a bit of my time, if you know what I mean.

*reaches for fan because she no longer needs a vibrator*

Ha! :kiss:

Geez, did I really just go there? :eek:

Bwahaha! Get it girl! :devil:
 
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