Current poems in progress...

making croutons from mummies
thomas jefferson's candy corn nubbins
documenting the census consensus with a copy of jugs magazine
i really should have done my hair, thought the vengeful fending benders
mr. roger's sweater is far less fabulous than mine, i thought, returning to the present
giving myself a lapdance in the mirror
i alone influence american standards and values
hovering above ben franklin's toilet upon which i flushed them
which only goes to remind us that in 1472 Fernando Poo discovered Fernando Poo!

go for it, bernardo. you have my bulwark.
-Symon
-------
you are the wind beneath my wings and the bulwark beneath my masthead..

Under the over throw

Press Dubelly sat delibertly
under the over pass
making a quick quirky decision
to over throw the under pass
and then when the war was done
rename the thing
"The over throw".
Which was fine
by me because I had no idea
that anyone who is anyone at all
would have a name
such as press.
Maybe if mom and dad
had the last name
of release
it might have been
easy to understand
the naming of a child
Press.
So there he sat
under the over pass
plotting the over throw
of the over pass
so he could rename it
the over throw.
People do it all the time anyway,
he reasoned so reasonably
to his self
while eating a cheese sandwhich.
As the crumbs of bread and cheese
which normally would stick
to such sticky fingers
as Press often had
from doing what his name means
which is to apply pressure,
but no one ever said stop,
which resulted
in continually having sticky fingers
unfortunately.
Stick fingers now fully engaged
with cheese and bread
with which one can make
a very bready snap
if you put your mind to it,
and came up with a plan.
First he would wage wordy warfare
against the powers that be
at city hall,
then when lost in a state
of confused confusion
he would deftly strike
and use his name to announce
that the owner ship
had changed hands to his hands
so then the war would be done
and then he could paint the over
pass the color he liked
and with great fanciful fanfare
rename the over pass
to the over throw,
then he wouldn't feel so bad
when he threw the crusts of bread
which he didn't much like
off the side of the over throw.
---
wendy

Epicism

It wasn't a dark and stormy night,
as tales often begin.
No this tale begins
in of all places....
the dryer.
It involves a notion
that if you want to peel an orange
in a warmed condition
then the dryer would be
a candidate for sure.
With out the dryer sheet of course.
A dryersheet flavored orange
is not something
I wish to explore.
So determined
and fixated on having a warmed orange
I took my treasure
so round
so cool
so orange
to the bathroom
where along with a sad throne
due to age and a sagging floor
there sits in a dimly lit corner....
THE DRYER MONSTER!!!!
(we need music to get the desired effect here. Volunteers are welcome.)
It will eat anything.
I do mean anything
made of soft cloth that is,
like just one of your socks
which everyone has lost
to the
DRYER MONSTER!!!!!
(I love doing that by the way...making capital letters and then adding exclaimation points)
I suspected
and theorized
that no self respecting dryer
would dare do anything
but heat an orange if the orange
were placed into the mouth
of the dryer.
So bravely I move
to the mouth of the monster.
It's knobby eyes looking at me
blankly
but that's only when I'm feeding
it clothes.
I have heard it mumbling and gurgling
around in there.
I know
I just know it's plotting my overthrow
and planning a big party
when it finally gets me
to take that air fluff ride...
I just let it plot.
I turned the knob to 28 minuets
which by my caculations
would make my orange nice and warm.
I don't think the dryer liked
my idea
it shook and shook
as the orange bounced around in there.
After 10 minuets it smelled alot like
oranges.
At 15 I wondered if it was too much time,
and still the orange bouncied bouncied
now in sort of it's own rythem.
It might be possible to get a tune going
with that bouncie bouncie rythem
and that orange smell going on.
AT 28 minuets, it stoped.
I was hesitant to look.
Slowly I opened the door.
And there on the bottom of the dryer
sat my orange.
Sad and beat up.
I don't think I want to eat it now,
since it's had such a rough day.
So I'll just take it back
to the refrigerator
and put it on the second shelf
behind what ever cover I can find.
I'll give it time to get well
and maybe knit it a little hat
so it doesn't look so funny in there
just to avoid any questions
from curious explorers
that are so particular
that they have to move things around
in the refrigerator
instead of leaving them
where they are
so that all science experiments
can achieve their full
fuzzy different colors
that often happen when
you forget that you put that there
back in the back
of the refrigerator.
My orange is now resting peacefully.
I feel guilty now
for putting an innocnent orange
through such an ordeal
just so I could have warmmed fruit
instead of theeth chilling
twang that often accompanies
the partaking of any given
refrigerated fruit.
I did it for the sake of my teeth!!
I tried to make amends
to my dryer wounded orange
who now just sat there
looking at me
all messed up like that
wishing it was me
who took that 28 minuet ride
in the belly
of
THE DRYER MONSTER!
(more music please)
---
oh sillyness be at the hand of my pen, so I may write silly poetry and funny stuff too, so that it will make me laugh when I think about it in the middle of what ever day happens to be falling apart...
wendy

the day after

The day after a war,
when the furror has gone quiet
and the blood is still
being cleaned up,
Everything about the day of
runs over me.
I look at everything that was said
all the stupid garbage
that had no point to it,
and it amazes me
that you missed it completely
in your brused ego department.
To keep you calm
I took all the respoonsiblity
all the blame
even though it was not mine
to have or hold.
But you can't handle the truth
nor do you defend my honor
any time it has been attacked
you always look at me
and tell me that I need to do
the appoligizing
to the person who hurt me.
When things come into the light
and it turns out I was right
you have nothing to say,
not I'm sorry I was wrong
not I'm sorry I let you go through that
alone,
nothing.
And for that
you have failed everything
you have ever professed to feel about me.