Lunatics

Alice in Wonderland by YukiValentine

a grin without a cat
is not a cat without a grin
in a world without sadness
where colors rule and
you care not
where I go while
I care much
to detain you
for your knowledge
binds me to this
upsidedown world
you are everywhere and
there is anywhere
you find cheeses
shaped like faces
and then i’m
suddenly called mad
by mates who
regularly escape
from the local
lunatic asylum
though they should be
sitting in the lounge
solving riddles and puzzles
playing checkers and bridge
on a competitive level
throwing red colored
jello into each other’s
grizzeled hair
intimidating the
sassy unfortunate inmates
who cannot wait
their turns on
the croquet field
and then slam balls
into each others heads
with confusing fury
and no account
for the proper
rules of safety
eating wild mushrooms
falling out of
an orange sapped tree
right onto my head
as i manage to hold
onto the tail
of my everpresent
cheerful mentor

*******************

Written for:

Poetry Blogroll Midnight Snack Prompt 006.

Also posted on:

dversepoets.com Meeting The Bar Critique and Craft – Conflation  by emmett.

Also posted on:

YukiValentine at deviantART

Ms. Ellie Shrillcock

Woman Yelling

A woman of the highest squeakery
has a big problem:
MEN!
Although she’d thoroughly
Invest every cent
In hard-core sentimentality.

Ms. Ellie Shrillcock, single mom and sentimental
piece of ass had her squeaky
butt wiped off her centripetal
self. Now, she probably
rides like a thoroughbred
race horse on the mend.

Flesh-like jerks, with mighty menhoods,
steer her with phemerones as they sniff scentless
silk tulips. Her house is a thoroughfare –
her boys try to keep it squeakily-clean.
Where is she sleeping tonight? Probably
not in her own bed. This past century

who was your first centaur,
Ms. Shrillcock? Was he a menace
with a torturing proboscis?
Or was he a sentinel
with the squeakiest
fiddle, thoroughly

quivering beneath your tight skirt? With thoroughness
you lazily transcribe central
bureaucratic formats. Squeaker,
with the lurid voice, that mental
patient whose final sentences
are compounded by problems,

is the only one you comprehend. How probable
for you to fall thoroughly
from elegance to sleaze. You were sent
to a celebration of centennial
proportions, for rugged men
who spent several years getting the squeak

out of their problematic voices. A cent
will buy you a thorough morality mentor
to exhume your inessential nasal squeakiness.

************************

Written and Posted for:

 D’verse Poets Pub

Hosted by Gay Cannon. Her sestina variation being  Art in 5.7.5 – Sestina Variation

Picture Credit blindgossip

I wrote thins in 1994 about…well, someone with a squeeky annoying voice, who had some issues. Let’s just leave it at that.

Please feel free to comment, and help me be a better poet.

Also posted on Poetry Picnic Week 8: Friends, Relationships and Everyone around