
O
M
Godzilla!
I’m Laughing out
Loudmouth…
Flopping on
Floor
&
Fishtailing, even
(JK)
Lip-syncing
the
acronym
of the Lord
High Gad-get
in vain.
©Karen Robiscoe

O
M
Godzilla!
I’m Laughing out
Loudmouth…
Flopping on
Floor
&
Fishtailing, even
(JK)
Lip-syncing
the
acronym
of the Lord
High Gad-get
in vain.
©Karen Robiscoe

the sh*t going on these days…
I wish it was
~drama~
queen
I wish it was ruse
sheep’s clothing
I wish it was wolf
eating the boy
it’s not.
©K. Robiscoe
I strum my grief
& pluck one-liners
~riffing beats~
as I define
/ a life in leaf /
my story time…
in bits-so-sweet
until decline–
there never was a prelude finer–
worth a sonnet
and a shiner.
Through a reed &
with some weed
I blow my smoke
in piping…
oboes, flutes,
kazoos that toot
to mellow
bellowed griping…
My odes
unload!
My poems
come home!
My villanelles unveiling–
in measured chord
dynamic score
of trial’ing & tre’vailing…
For mortal wounds
the gizmo used
is full on Philharmonic,
no poem
but tome
–a fiction long–
subverts
the hurt to tonic…
As lullabye
may I imply
to me all words
are music
witty, ditty
>even shitty<
can sound pretty
when I choose it.
©Karen Robiscoe
Whether well
Plumbed Prose
Babble
or
both,
writing is a journey,
a living sketch,
a road map
depicting a series
of →starts→ and .stops.
Winchells donut holes
twists and turns
The amazing ball of twine
switchbacks and stumbles
I C U!
toward the light switch.
Unlike a sketch,
–and in the Dark–
your audience can’t see
the creases in the pieces
you’ve fit together & left behind
cntrl + alt + delete’s changed that forever
and well, White Out’s been around for a while, too.
Hinting at those erased bits–
those shamey throwaways
that shatter a mosaic of self image
elbow-elbow
that keyboard blueprints smooth
nudge-nudge
nasty as pop-up↑pimples
smudge-smudge
spell-checking & tongue-clucking & exploding with homogenization through the White, all write…
denying the Amazing Technicolor Pothole Adventure
erase marks define.
©Karen Robiscoe
By golly
I’m no Lolly
my hands are never gladdened..
by sucking up
~or licking boots~
or phony, toady actions
your ass
>while nice<
will not be kissed,
I like my nose in beige…
and for that itchy back you have
may I suggest a shave
I’d rather offer
poison fruit
than polish any apples…
Pamper’s
damper
–soft soap’s gone
I’ve given my last crapple…
©Karen Robiscoe
the zookeepers in the world worried…
every one of them.
>all 10<
millions of animals
caged for their own safety
while not yet escaped
) not yet )
now comingled in a massive, completely unintended living area.
an area which fell through most bureaucratic gaps.
(even those from the 1800’s)
the circus people worried for these same reasons,
as did hatcheries, as did animal husbands……
& rallying their ranks, the suits swelled,
firing fat, outlawed Cubans
that puffed clouded conjecture into a semblance of legitimacy
like those balloons that appear overhead in comic strips,
as the light bulb that also appears in balloons in comic strips was nowhere nearby
was being retrofitted, in fact, so those stupid zoo animals could see why their steaks were so high—not say—because of the zookeepers’ stake in global, zoo security systems…
Rallying, the suits created laws for grandpa, even though grandpa had kicked the bucket, but
fuck it! The animals were fiercely engaged in detaching, and grandpa had been a fan…
and so they tempted species with particular treats, “species whisperers” for every beast, warning the rest of uncaged Noah’s Ark their brethren gained on them even as they walked and breathed,
would rip them asunder, thereby enticing each animal to the fence,
–not yet within.
and sure there was some infighting, sure there was, but what the zookeepers really feared was a united diaspora
a herd exchanging belly rubs & aches, and picking nits foreign & familiar
Such a heard would realize they far outnumbered the zookeepers and circuses of the world, and if they chose to live free
an elephant
might trample those bars & pens
(cages they paid for! prisons they built!)
— a mouse might.
2¢ by Karen Robiscoe
‘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.
daily prompt: bucket list