February 17, 2015 
Comments Off on Vous-Deux
The doll liked the
view, dude,
not the
voo-doo,
>stuck through the rut of that<
a deja view if ever there was one….
Sunday-Sunday-Sunday
–a day Jah views as best, but remember:
Nobody likes the same vu ahead of them
not really
not unless they’re trying to catch up with it….
©Karen Robiscoe
February 16, 2015 Comments Off on …but for a Moor
Swathed in albatross boa,
indenture
(far too young)
&
–missing anchor—
…
I drift
…
Neither weighted down,
nor grounded—
I strand
(eventually)
.
Nowhere bridge
burning
oil•spill•fierce
behind
me~
©Karen Robiscoe
February 16, 2015 Comments Off on More Karen’ee Goodness
If I could clone myself
~I would~
to
me,
myself ,
&
I…
a trinity
affinity
–1 shy
–1 high
–1 spry.
The bashful me
would write the dream!
And dream up what I write…
Safely tucked,
away from stuff,
annotating life…
The loaded me
would make headlines!
To augment lines in head…
Fully charged,
& livin’ large,
steppin’ off the edge…
The nimble me
would walk the wire
between this
pair o’ dox…
impressive feet
from number 3
–a Rebel without Socks.
©Karen Robiscoe
daily prompt: clone your own
February 7, 2015 Comments Off on …on a Crutch
My Uncarved block is scored with ruts
just like my 8 fold path,
My Dharma wheel has popped its nuts,
Its inner tube gone flat…
My Star of David wanes its wax,
and cross is in the shop…
My Yang and Yin completely black,
since Buddha Belly-flopped.
My rosary is thick with thorns!
and chalice full’a brine,
My Eucharist is stale, and pour—
fermented 2 buck wine…
©Karen Robiscoe
February 4, 2015 Comments Off on Front of the House
My body is a temple,
and God is within me, all right…
I just hope he isn’t dwelling in the
“says” pool…
Karen Robiscoe
February 2, 2015 Comments Off on Eden’s Eastside
I wanna go
to Cannery Row
ride my Red Pony
~cantering slow~
–Travelin’ with Charley—
a fellow who knows…
Steinbeck, the author
a scribblin’ pro.
We’ll meet him
near Eden
just East of idyll–
I’ll sweet talk
and greet him
and ask if he will…
embellish my history
–so run of the mill—
and rewrite my life lines
with his skillful quill…
I’ll ply him with Grapes
not Wrathful: fermented!
whatever it takes
’til’ bio’s cemented,
The facts lightly fudged
to proper extent, so
ending reveals
a Pearl of content,
and Zeitgeist disguises
its lack of event.
The background
will foreground!
and crises turn pages…
description
encryption
from infant to aged
Yes, John is the man
to record my diction
of life I have lived
a creative non-fiction.
©Karen Robiscoe
Charron's Chatter 