Wednesday, April 13, 2016

Allergic To Coffee, Not On The Scene

you can never be the Bride of your time
I said to my soul waiting for no sugar to show
when you're adorned with faerie lights

at the drop of the morning paper on the mat.
and Soul poured the coffee down the sink
a little perturbed we can't drink that anymore

because we just can't.
we might as well go back to drafty castles
moldy tapestries on the walls

and all that she mistily stormed.
who's in a mood now I said
but she never listens to me

when I'm right
but just goes off in her own light
like some kind of a rainbow funk.

and this children, is called a solliloquy
(look it up) or it used to be
before we only got the potato parings

instead of Real Poetry
with the moonlight left in.

mary angela douglas 13 april 2016