April 20, 2014 
13 Comments
‘Searched for truth
until eyes blurred
‘swiveled hips
until they burned
‘scratched my pen
until it emptied
–dined on little,
starved on plenty.
Hosted egos
’til it hurt
‘tempted kismet
kismet t→U←rned
‘dove in pools
’til I floated…
>oVer-easy<
dead & bloated.
‘Blazed my trails
until the last
‘mining nuggets
others pass
‘jumping lines
to sweeter paths
♥ loved all in ♥
‘KicKed some aSS.
©Karen Robiscoe
daily prompt: bucket list
April 17, 2014 1 Comment
* pin up girl = voodoo doll *
com’roberate = corroborating with a comrade
I don’t have a writer’s block when it comes to finishing this series, I have a writer’s grudge.
Space shittle = the #2 priority on all space missions
(Space Piddle = why)
Mypain headache = a blinding sadness
My circulation is so bad, when I die, I’ll be in mint condition.
My skin is so thin, I moonlight as an anatomy model…
God = the ultimate “Wait til your father gets home”
carpel tunnel = side effect of chronic muse-terbation
car pool tunnel = best lane to negotiate English Channel—Can use fictional character as passenger
carpel tunnel = something lotsa riders have to get through
April 15, 2014 9 Comments
I walked beside
Main~streaM
(a•series•of• wholly-fluked•weekender•lakes)
brushed Lunatic Fringe
From my eyes
& Banged elbows in oil
greased dis•TreSS into
MeduSan curls
…cOils that Set
without
mouSSe…
©Karen Robiscoe
April 14, 2014 4 Comments
She was poured
out of her skull,
&
–over rocks
Beached Sex
and I was a Hatted Man
.neat.
a double-tall drink of whiskey
sweet as cherry
~stirrup~
and ours was a toast to remember
hear! hear!
an electric Tee
that wobbled disco balls for light years.
©Karen Robiscoe
April 13, 2014 Comments Off on The Lost Straw
I have developed
truth-in-mouth disease…
a straw man
whose very essence
breaks backs.
©Karen Robiscoe
April 13, 2014 3 Comments
a U R L’s
no I R L–
since in real life there’s ORaL..
an X S trait
improving prate
unless you’re DUMB·ly moral.
©Karen Robiscoe
Have more fun with Heads! Click: Talking Heads
April 13, 2014 Comments Off on Paint by SrebmuN
My paint box is bursting
with wondrous hues
compared to acceptable
beiges and blues
insipid & vapid
the colors in use
no grey
on that palette
to shade in a ruse
as bland as a ballad
that’s been Auto-tuned
a voice
full of static
that’s softened & soothed
a palate
so pallid
it’s salad and soup
all nail
and no mallet
to hammer the view
aPath
so invalid
so frickin’ less avid
that matte, painter’s palette that never fell thru
→ the Gloss →
to join rabbit
now daubing that truth…
©Karen Robiscoe
Charron's Chatter 