May 19, 2014 
5 Comments
If you like me at all
–please don’t call
for heaven’s sake don’t Skype…
Don’t text me
or vex me
or sext me
or hex me
or any such other hype…
Don’t friend me
or vend me
or gripe me
or type me
a note or in stereo
don’t tweet me
or greet me
or page to
engage me
in mentioned scenario…
To reach me
just teach me
a new form of
speech, see,
including each lesson in letters,
electric’s
a technic
and snail apathetic
still *male*
~when it’s artful~
is better.
©Karen Robiscoe
May 18, 2014 2 Comments
I dreamed of white knights
and I got what I dreamed, too–
–writer of Night Mare–
©Karen Robiscoe
May 17, 2014 Comments Off on Hokey-Spokey
I can fit in
>when I’m bidden<
but the truth is I don’t.
Since the midden
is where fittin’
can be hidden
for most.
♦
So I dance to
my percussion
tappin’ lyrical
beats…
Jokin’ hokey
never pokey
skippin’ rules
by the feat.
♦
I can foot in
if I’m wooden–
I can go North ↑
or South ↓
but by nature
nomenclature
could be deemed
foot-in-mouth.
♦
©Karen Robiscoe
May 17, 2014 9 Comments
I’m putting on my blinders
turning off my blinkers
shutting down my headlights
no grander deeper thinker
↓
I’m settling for blander
deleting back to blanker
lockering my longing
quelling rooted hanker
↓
It must have been a blunder
to bellow flame inferno
the rumbling no thunder
the lightning just a Sterno.
©Karen Robiscoe
May 10, 2014 5 Comments
when life has been unkind
–and waves engulfing me…
I tack rewind to find
–sublime
the brine of ancient sea,
when life has been unkind
–and I
find it hard to be…
I tack rewind to find
–the line
of squall–in scrawl recedes…
when life has been unkind
and eye
of hurricane alee…
I tack rewind to find
–high tide
and storm will never meet.
When life has been unkind,
I tack rewind to find…
©Karen Robiscoe
May 9, 2014 2 Comments
Solitude’s
an attitude
it isn’t rude
but practice–
of truth denude
in interlude
to muddle
thru the madness.
In this respect
a disconnect
is no neglect of faction,
nor mutiny
but scrutiny,
producing
new abstractions..
©Karen Robiscoe
May 8, 2014 2 Comments
the hype
I type
could be
asswipe–
the tales
I tell are gold.
No “perbole”
to verbally–
related
truths of Olde…
a Musing dotes
on Annexed Folk
to channel all the told
then poet rote
reviews my Spoke
–and Pens a
fool’s gold.
©Karen Robiscoe
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