no designer clothes who am I? POW # 9

In this land Infallible and uncouth

Shirts no-shirts determine

Who’s the enemy take pride in infiltrating

Aisles of people who serve their god

We decide who to kill more bombings

Causalities rise under me no one wins

But I am the victor fix me with an IED

Go to Paris I hate Gucci jack-in-the-box suits me best

I can take my pistol and blow you away and no one

Would suspect me I am the victor I have lost

Me sunday scribblings #221 life swap

Fasten me with a safety pin

to the bed while I sleep

so that I may not drift too far

When I walk tie a rope round

my waist so that I don’t get lost

Search for me when I am missing

Remember me when I am gone

Look up in the sky and read the stars

As they spell out my name

In the ward writers island #9 imagine

I was walking down the street chewing bubble gum

That day I was wearing a red shirt
I really love how that shirt looks with my blonde hair

Sometimes I’m very vain but if I don’t praise myself who will

I often visit the geriatrics in the nursing home hoping I can find my mom

Oh how I loved her, we used to sit and eat manna together talking about the antichrist

How her words resonate in my brain as I see her image

She loved to play board games and she was always quick with a joke

I sometimes wondered was she my natural mother because she was so lovely and healthy

I remember the day she told me about the Brownshirts drinking grape juice

I said to her “Do they smoke opium, too?”
If they drink grape juice they must smoke opium

I would like to go back in a time machine when people were sincere

Just like my mom I am so sorry that she is gone

I have made my fortune in timetables since she left me

I have many interests some untried and others unfounded

I will remain the underdog until the tidal wave comes to take me away

”arctic never” big tent poetry #8

“I want to write about crack babies, but I don’t know how.”

incubators crying

from every corridor

to hold and feed

shaking and screaming

no comfort to be found

hearts beat an extra rhythm

too fast to contain

eyes unfocused

eyes untamed

West Side Story 1961 - "I feel pretty"

I dedicate this to you, Mr. General

Good going Obama!

My life we write poems wordle #7

A drought has come

I won’t drown

I obsess

I am happy

nervous

mad

Sorrow circles in a bad carbon sea

Glacial winds blow in on your birthday

Gerry Rafferty - Baker Street (HQ Original Video)

this is pop but it could be Summer for me
great memories!
Pamela