a butt-ugly rock dove sings a swansong

neighbor dave rakes his lawn from left to right, he combs the taller grasses over the thinner spots, grows his roses in military rows, parades them for his jealous neighbors 

he is a sculptor of blue juniper, his hedges clean and straight, he is a strict disciplinarian, his marigolds don’t cavort with dandelions 

he screams at the disobedient daffodils (if you won’t take the shape i make, then your just another weed!) he will not swoon a false swan 

me and the rock doves and ugly bugs perch on the crooked limb of a crooked tree, we watch him attack the earth with holy avenger garden tools, he alone decides what dies 

and what lives, and we, citizens of the vacant lot, the unpruned and unplucked, unloved by god, build from scratch with mud and luck, now we tremble when he stares at us   

we of the crooked tree can’t help but wonder, which way will he point his greenish thumb, up
or down?

posted for earthweal weekly challenge

the cosmic farmer’s fertilizer song

we were all anesthetized until we realized we were floating around on sugar boats, the sugar dissolved into a cold ocean swirl and we all fell in, baptized in some kind of cosmic kool-aid 

and the pain was real and the pain was right, and someone said “let there be light” someone flipped a switch and the world turned on

and it was all amusement parks and trailer parks and time clocks and argyle socks and artificially flavored pop-rocks and option stocks and noah’s arks, so we climbed aboard  

with curiosity we make a rudder, with imagination we make a sail, we discovered dry land and learned how to crash into it, we were happy landfill

it was a land of feral salad forks, it was a land of hubcaps, airplanes filled the sky like starlings migrating to heaven, people grew on trees and the kool-aid flowed like two percent milk

we sang gypsy blue jean rock-n-roll radio, we ate breakfast casserole, we goose-stepped in and out of combat boots, we glissaded up and down slippery slopes, it was a jubilee
of hyperbole, and all the people ate all the trees, we breathed our last breath of laughing gas and laughed ourselves to death, but it’s all good, it’s all understood

this world eats itself daily, it’s the cosmic farmer’s favorite song, hymnally of ecology, tidal waves wash our coffins back into the bigger picture, back into the sea, back into a bowl of milk

and sugar  

posted for shay’s word garden

posted for d’verse open link

posted for poets and storytellers united

the sunday muse #194 x-ray glasses

when i was
a little kid
i wanted
x-ray glasses
and sea monkeys
but mostly 
x-ray glasses

i wanted to know 
what grown-ups
were thinking
what was
going on in those
oversized skulls
why the
long blank expressions and
they never

i thought
the x-ray glasses
i bought
were broken
cause all i saw
was nothing
no matter what
i looked
nothing but nothing

i thought
those swirls were just painted on
a total scam!

all grown-up
and i know
what is what
i know 
what goes on in these
oversized skulls
and it’s 
sea monkeys

posted for the sunday muse