Twin body of old tree,
Tendrils dancing to the sun,
  .  .  .  Shadows and Ivy.

She  swallow the sun, before the days begun,
keeping him in the dark, with her silly little lies.
He prays she finds love and he hopes that it's he.
He's scored  long enough,  he knows it's only in his head.

He watches from afar, while she's beside  him in  bed,
Pretty as a poem he read.
There, but uninvolved, someone is waiting round the bend-
This dream is just a page he read.

He's been here before, an old hand at goodbye,
years are moving on to a safe and cozy night:
where slide shows flicker on walls of unknown photo scrawls
and moments covered in dust,  
dead forgotten trust.

If only she belonged to a wasted life with him:
grounded, broken and free;
with few Hollywood lights hanging on her tree,
a sense of sanity.

She is held like a doll that can never love back,
plastic blue eyes keep him entrapped.
Compromising compassion compels him to her door-
He swears he's been here before...

I wish I could tell you
That I'm not in love with you
Oh no my dear this isn't the case
For you see,
I'm infatuated with an over-romantacized version of you
Which only truly exists in my daydreams
And it was not you I wrote sweet nothings about
It was my imaginary version of you
The version that loves me back,
For the real you...
Doesn't feel for me anymore.
So my darling, my first kiss, my first date, first slow dance, first small romance
See you in my daydreams.

This poem based on a joke on eggs (!) is dedicated to Timothy, a fellow-poet here at HP….I  was reminded of that joke about eggs  by Timothy’s comment on my recent poem: “Corax versus Tisias”.  
Timothy:  “This is great, Raj, another humourous poem with a good meaning, if you are an Egg or a Crow, lol! Keep them coming!!!!~<3<3:):)☺♂♀♥♠♣♦◘☻◙•○.O♫” …
Well, here’s another humorous poem, Timothy – and dedicated to you…



Dad, the Kid, and the Girl Next Door

(1)
“Dad,”* says 6-year-old Tim
back from the neighbour’s
“Sandra next door and I’ve decided
to get married”

Dad laughs…What do these kids know? he thinks…
I’ll humour him, just kid along
with this precocious child of mine


(2)
“But you’re too young, Tim,”
says Dad

“That’s OK,” says Tim
“Sandra doesn’t mind I’m a year
younger than she”


“Oh,” says Dad
“but marriage is such
a huge responsibility”

“Yeah,” says Tim quick and sharp
“Haven’t you seen my school reports?
Teacher always says I’m hugely responsible;
it’s the same on Sandra’s card”


Dad’s smile weakens
“Well, what will the two of you
do for money?”

“Oh, we’ve worked that one out
We get $20 a week in pocket money
between us and we reckon we’ll take
on extra jobs:
I can mow our lawn;
and she’ll wash dishes at her home
Beside we’ll save a lot of money
since we don’t at all eat out
and lodging is free -
a week here and the next at Sandra’s”


(3)
Now Dad has lost his smile
These kids have thought of everything,
he thinks.  I’ve got to do better –
come up with an objection that’ll  strike fear


“Have you thought, Tim,” says wise old Dad
“about babies? Married people make babies –
what you going to do about that?”

“Simple,” says Tim the kid, cool and unperturbed
“We’ve googled all that:
Every time Sandra lays an egg
I’ll crush it under foot!”

Dad sighs with relief…

"why don't you,"
said the Lofty Man
warily considering me,
"sing of the Sublime
the Grand, The Divine?
Sing you of the Uncommon
the Mystery
of the Spiritual, the Religious
of the Incomprehensible -
why don't you?"

"Cos,"* I said,
pushing the toothpick
between my teeth
(the ****** food bits always get stuck in between),
"I've been  
to the mountain top there
and I've seen the Sublime
is just O so, so Common
so battered Trivial"
(Then I spat out the food bits -
O it was Divine Bliss, just like in post-******)

that hat seller
he’s a Maverick
itinerant, wanderer
no monkey business
no dependence, his own man
busy, he has one thing to do:  
to sell his hats

Hats, hats, hats
hats for sale
Blue hats, black hats,
gray ones -
will lend you some dignity
while on your heads

they’d not want to help him
they liked to brand him
so he said: **** you,
I’d rather go on my own

moving from one place
to another
like a masterless samurai, a ronin
no monkey business for him
but the monkeys do come to him

he knows the monkeys
they’re everywhere the same -
pinching, covetous, not giving
but eager hands for taking;
and he throws his own hat down
and the monkeys imitate;
and he collects what is his
and he moves on, as he must
for his work is everywhere
busy, he has one thing to do:  
to sell his hats

*Hats, hats, hats
hats for sale
Blue hats, black hats,
gray ones -
will lend you some dignity
while on your heads

Upside down is my right side up
With too-thin skin, splayed legs
and lips ****** of substance,
I lie quietly on rumpled sheets.

a word some say that I've said too much:
s-o-r-r-y sorry sorry sorry

It loses sincerity when uttered often,
but I am sorry, I haven't said it enough.

is my chagrin charming?
is my self-deprecation darling?

(no response)

I'm told (insert compliment).
I believe it, I have heard.
I both love and loathe myself.

******* and flagellation,
brought on by the same hand
penance, paid; insatiable, still

Just sit, ******
and watch a martyr at work.

The pale sands shadow your skin
The moon’s light bares you no justice
Its shine is nothing compared to your eyes
Nor does the ocean beside me, twinkle greater than they do
The goddess of the night waits atop her throne
Eyes that pierce the clouds and space itself
With the face that sent many ships to the deep of the ocean
The heart and mind to mend and destroy
You are my Helena, my Calliope, my Cassiopeia, and the River Queen Cleopatra

The waves splash my feet, my love
My boat is bound for lands dangerous
The white sand grips my feet, and I grip back
I wish not to leave you my goddess
Wait not for me, Lunar Matriarch
For I shall not return alive
Leave my body afloat dear Gods
Let my ship burn, my men die

I shall never see this beach or my Aspen Harlot afterwards.

I am the
SAME
as you

I work in your community
I live in your world
I contribute
(too much)
to Capitalism
by frequenting your local stores
and buying
WAY
more items than
I need

I vote for your President
your Congress
your Governor,
I participate in politics because
I care
about the way
our world
functions.

And yet I'm not equal
I'm not "the same."

As if any of us even know what being
"the same"
means anymore

When I dated men you
ALL
applauded me, praised me

Even when I dated total
*******
people said,

"Well you're just too good for him.
But you're such a great person for
being able to see past his
'rough' exterior"

I saw past
SO MANY
'rough exteriors'

And I was miserable
And I forced myself to
PRETEND
to be happy.
And loved
And love-ING.

But then
SHE
walked into my life.

SHE
had been there for awhile,
but I shoved the feelings to the side
because they're
NOT RIGHT

NOT
acceptable

NOT
real

NOT
important

Be with a man they say.
And I followed their rules.

Which lead to alcoholism
drugs
depression
suicide after suicide after suicide,
never
accomplished.

Which reinforced the fact that
my life would be full of
Failure.

And then came the kiss
(when my lips met her perfect lips)
that opened my eyes,
and changed my life.

Now, I may be
Unequal
Rejected
Frowned upon

BUT

There is no frown upon
my face.

For my world is
Complete
Authetic
Rewarding
Real

And I wouldn't change that
to cultivate the appearance of
Equal.

resplendent the dawn
painted by a sunlit daub
a picture so grand