Crazy talk.

I walked headfirst into a gate,
And fell, distressed into the drapes,
And saw, outside, a cat with hair,
And a furry man with two eclairs.

Beside him lay a faceless dog,
Who indulged in wordless monologue,
And ate, presumably, the cat,
Who'd vanished while we'd had this chat.

The man, instead, ate eclairs both,
And made the dog shed off her coat,
And added to his furry skin,
A pelt of finest, canine lint.

The naked dog then ate the man,
Grew fangs, fur and attention span,
And earned a surely feline face,
And along with that, canine disgrace.

Certainly, something was amiss,
What respectable dog would meow and hiss?
And what the deuce possessed her throat?
Her barks came out like wordy gloats!

And then, alas, the dog had died!
Her abrupt demise all sense defied,
Her stomach was twisted all in knots,
And the people claimed it was the pox.

Some argued that she had been beaten,
Some said it was something she'd eaten,
Perhaps it was the cat with hair?
But methinks it was the damned eclairs.

Hunger

Two bits of burning, blazing coal
Sweep over heaps of offal wealth,
Consuming all that baser gold,
In a yawning gaze where Hunger dwells.

Eating years, and now in her twelfth,
A girl--a rat?--a vulture-child,
Slave to stealth and fading health,
Rotting apples ate and thus defiled,
What human nature she had left.

Beside her sits a broken doll,
Tied to her spindly, bony fingers,
As if unanchored would devolve.
And about her, putrid perfume lingers,
As a scented sign of her coming fall.

From the sky, in mocking rain,
Pour dregs of wine and liquored relish,
Plates of yester-dinner remains,
Noodles in oodles and half-eaten fish,
And the girl below a meal attains.

She grasps her food in a bone-grown bowl,
Imprisons her life in her hand-walled cage,
That one mouthful can free her soul,
If she opened her fingers, a lifetime she'll age,
--if she let it slip through her bone-grown bowl.

But Hunger decides, not her, not Him,
And she holds on tighter to her bite,
Raises to her lips and her hunger dims,
One more day she's eaten, one more night,
She'll live till it rains again: wine on a whim.

War

Sit down, Madame, take a seat!
Stay your hands and cross your feet,
You see those drops of crystal rain?
They're tears, madame, tears of pain.
The clouds thunder, with rage replete,
While the skies light up in white defeat.

A storm, my doll, a storm is here!
The clash and clatter of woes is near!
The swirling red among the white,
Is naught but blood shed in the fight,
But hush, now, don't cry, my dear,
You disrespect them with your fear.

You see the frothing ribbons there?
Those once were men, tall and fair,
Now all that's left is pus and flesh,
Poisoned, speared and cut afresh,
What? You find it hard to bear?
My dove, you're yet to have your share.

Can you hear the wailing cries?
It's the sound of man as he dies,
And as life leaks out from cracking skin,
The killed becomes the killer's kin,
And the fear you feel is but a lie,
Do you know what it's like to die?

Do you know what it is to hate?
To wield the metal of a blade,
And to damn yourself either way,
Whether you take a life or give yours away?
Hands once bloodied, bloodied remain,
What hasn't been broken will have been maimed.

And while you sit beside this hearth,
Those men return into the dirt,
Having fought for you, my heart!
Having ruined themselves, their souls depart,
The Devil will embrace them all with mirth,
And God will frown upon the earth.

You, My death, you've made them sinners,
You've taken their homes and poisoned their dinners,
You've turned their blades on fellow men,
You've begun a game that has no end,
A game that never can yield winners,
But only men, and those men, killers.

Seventeen stones

Seventeen stones I have today,
Each one's a different shade,
Every stone's a stone away,
And each shade a shade too gray.

The first three came in a wicker bowl,
The next two floated on the wind,
Five others swam through winter cold,
And six more were to satin pinned.

At once I cast them into a fire,
Who doesn't fear unnatural gifts?
But driftwoods make a poorly pyre,
For the stones returned the fire to drifts.

I placed them in an army line,
And painted all a glorious hue,
But color's only on whiteness fine,
The stony gray bled right through.

I swallowed each and every one,
Till sixteen did my stomach flood,
Their stoney essence came undone,
And ran, like ink, into my blood.

Seventeen stones I have today,
Sixteen live in me as parts,
What once was red now is gray,
And the Seventeenth is my heart.

Adam and Eve: incomplete.

"Wish, wish," wailed the winter wind,
"The earth can't see her feet!
The world has thinned coz the Sky has sinned,
And poor Adam's incomplete."

"Incomplete?!" I gasped, aghast,
"But Eve's not even here!"
"Eve?" The winter wind recast,
"That's why he's incomplete, my dear!"

Father's day special.

My teacher told me earnestly,
"I can only give you knowledge, see?
And if 'smart' is all you want to be,
then I am all you'll ever need."

My mother later came and said,
"Knowledge alone will swell your head,
I'll give you love and teach you care,
Use them well, and well you'll fare."

My sister then knocked on my door,
Said, "I'll teach you not to be a bore,
To share and cheer and entertain,
And how not to be a pain."

My friend, who'd heard all of this,
Swore that something was amiss,
Said, "All the things your lists have had,
You can find in just your DAD."

Health and Death

Dreary Death and Hateful Health,
Knocked upon my door and knelt,
And, "choose between us woman," said,
One exuding faith, the other dread.

"Outside it rains and our bodies pain,
From lack of human life to claim,
Neither the other one can stand,
So a choice from you we demand."

"But why?" I asked, perplexed and vexed,
Health couldn't be won nor death annexed,
So why choose when choice changes naught?
Ought Death be the one that's shunned, or not?

"Choose me and forever live,
All sins I promise to forgive,
But if you're not strong, you will belong,
With naught but what had done you wrong."

"Ignore His ignoble ignorance, do!
He knows not what his mouth had spewed,
Choose me and I shall give to you,
A life reserved for a favored few."

"But why?" I pressed, panicked and stressed,
What host can refuse a guest distressed?
But what host held in her hostage hand,
The power to doom and to be damned?

"If Health you house you will condemn,
Your brethren to the Under-realm--"
"But would you harbor Death instead,
Who would have them live but have you dead?"

"I am but a lowly being, I confess,
But upon your souls I must impress,
That albeit moved, I'm hard and shrewd,
And would have the both of you removed."

Aghast, amazed, the Immortals gaped,
I smiled and spoke as I escaped,
"Suffer like humans and realize,
That pain by pleasure is neutralized."

I watched as Life descended then,
And tied them to the land of men,
And Health and Death bowed to Life,
Who then pronounced them man and wife.