rhinoplasty

solves that nasty

horny tendency…

a well-trimmed schnauz

is sexy cause

it’s poachless presently…

except of course

your face is horse

like–better keep the horn…

dye mane pink

so folks will think

that you’re a unicorn…

nip and tuck

and lipo-suck

to render rest fat-free…

slap on spackle

helps you battle

cracks in filigree…

a spank

and girdle

final hurdle

to tune those toneless cheeks…

remember duty

as natural beauty

pressure profile sleek.

 
I was piss-tified

…

a black whole

of cheeZy,

mac-erroneous assumption–

on the brink

of too many decisions
 
 
 
and with precision

I chose

the wrong course

–ate dessert first

the best course

but nothing was as uncertain

as salad, these days,

a bygone era

of iceberg wedge and predated

tomato

…

tomah-to

tomorrow,

a day that falls

less than Leap Year and

only contextually.

 
.Break ups suck.

lending lie to a
 
 
lifetime of memories…

stripping them of meaning the

polar

opposite of erotically–

new definitions

large and in charge

barge in…

all slap and no tickle and

sweetheart

♥

becomes asshole

*

or closer
to it

–along with the realization that

no•one

is different than

no•thing

~despite previous disconnect~

that nicknames

dissolve

~private jokes need at least one audience member~

and

containers showcase

different contents

–the face of continuity

broken.

magic is unique,

if you want hocus-pocus

sometimes you have to look at the big picture

–not found in TV stores—

and dig yourself a new hole

…

a gofer it hole that may lead to Wonderland

prest-O-change-O

or may damage pipes

–you can’t know until you wave that magic shovel

…

(bring carrots along just in case)

bypassing the wardrobe to

go in through the bathroom window,

convincing Windex to provide just enough clarity

to see the neighboring yard

the green of which is downright Narnian–

–still.

bring Turkish Delight along just in case,

keeping the bigger destination in mind

(don’t look too far)

and if it’s kite-free weather,

and houses are grounded

–not to worry!

(be happy)

There are yet options

–a wind machine dba portable fan works

>in a pinch<

a droptop drive in the country

does the trick in time,

too,

–just not a DeLaurean—

but the

best-second-best by far

is howling at the moon

(s’cuse me, baying)

since any were-girl worth her hide knows you can shortcut it to Oz

along the rainbow bridge—

skipping black & white altogether

to travel in

technicolor style

…

but the trees you can’t see for the forest have a helluva reach,

and Kansas only Thomas Guide text, anymore,

so bring apple ammo along, also,

you know

…

(just in case)

©Karen Robiscoe

my pet daisy is dying

lil petals curling black

still

~she loves me~

uplifting

does she not?

brave face fading

despite cater-pillars bracing her

and there is nothing to be done

and love pulling her

to save her…

she’s a sweet pet,

honey bees needing her

no bark and no bite,

soothsayer

and I wonder if I should plant her all the same,

so she can push herself up

finding new life

 
no one-armed banned it

I keep weapons…

why not, it’s my constitutional right

–and ya gotta look after your constitution

(with mandatory health care that suits better than fine)

trigger-pullers

that even with the safety on,

can
 
 
.point.

push

or

pray,

and when engaged

can bash in

hope chest

(like that swinger Tarzan)

crammed with whimsical and eclectic items

sum of witch

are quite perishable

(rotten waffles)

others

made out of paper mache boulders

(fragile strength and pseudo stone wall)

still others

just black

(surprisingly Goth for a beach blanket bimbo)

incomplete, incalculable equations

I labor over every day,

and these are breakfast choices, too,

–nothing says “good morning” quite like uncertainty, I never say–

and the surfeit spills

into breadbasket I

often use

as a heavy bag

givin’ it the old 1-2 but never 3 because why

do that to myself?

(see: a 4 mentioned less than 3 reference which X factor is greater )

Y?

near the

bottomless pit

that accommodates my

ground beaters

–uprights

compromised by

beggin’ bones

fodder for

oh-so-tender future veal I

save for dogs that circle back.

©Karen Robiscoe