“Let it go. Let it out.
Let it all unravel.
Let it free and it can be
A path on which to travel.”
Michael Leunig.

Annarcheyes adores Leunig,
The world’s best visual poet
But he can’t see
The pain that she
needs to cause,
her sacrificial suckling pig

Annarcheyes enacts a plan
For thethe grisly demise of a man
Whose crimes , like Fortunato’s,
Need not be named
Yet the vengeance and pain
Need to be fully explained

some poems are like haute cuisine

delicately designed
from rich
and exotic ingredients
melded into an esoteric melange
of sumptuous delight
(savor slowly, with wine)

some poems are a mechanical nightmare

clunky and bumpy
clattering wrecks
contraptions
clogged with extraneous
bells and whistles
and strapped to an off-kilter frame

some poems are like popsicles

Stems tremble.
Leaves wave in the wind.
White belated flowers gleam.

Shallow sun-puddles sway.
Tawny lace
of worn down shadows swings.

Oaks throw the last words.
Air shimmers and rings.

On the background
of the dark lilac cloud
geese draw angular
silvery shapes – the outline
of their backs and wings shine.

Leaves and needles swirl,
fly and fall,
catch the last sun,
rustle the last nothings,
swirl, fly and fall.

Purity
The dead are painless and in pure spirit
they float, crucified, on tall matches;
cubby whispers and punctured IV bags.
Their faces suspend as orphan moons,
necroptic jackals howl at the pass

of their King Snail baring jester crowns,

jeweled lesions bare in the smile
of a stray puppet body bound
to barbed, straw crosses.

I sit by your side and memories swirl
The sweet and the tart
Those more precious than a pearl

I pace back and forth and start to despair
The light leaves your eyes
See how dull and lank is your hair?

I wake up at night softly weeping
No, I’m not your cousin, your dear aunt or uncle
Gone now are your days of running and leaping

I stand next to you gently reminding
It’s me, your first born, don’t you know your own daughter?
I talk to myself more than you, I am finding

she was
queen for a day
brought to you
by
the Red Cross
and Freezone
to lift off
those painful foot corns
and lets not forget the good folks at
HEET
for those aching back muscles
strong
yet doesn't burn
and comes with a handy dandy applicator

she could have anything she wanted
all she had to do
was ask for it on
TV
after becoming the winning contestant
for a life more tragic then all the others

jostling for position
elbows bear the brunt
I have a primal need
to always be in front

It soothes my precious ego
when I can see ahead and
pretend a sense of prescience
to those that think I've led

but,

once upon a hunch
(which proved to be amiss) I
lured my flock of lemmings
off a mother fucking cliff

Is America getting weak
painting a picture bleak
a few thousand immigrants
become an irritant
making the POTUS shriek?

he feels fear is the key
for making them flee
calling it an invasion
a false accusation
his base cheers in glee

pointing finger at immigrants
they're terrorists he grunts
but the two who committed crime
not long ago but in recent time
are home grown and blunt

the party's over.
it was quite a show
but now it's time
for all to go.

but there'll always be
some who resist
the only advise
I have is this:

start howling
"Zarathustra"
or "Finnigan's wake",
or a political diatribe
from the daily fakes

as for the lingering hardcore
I guarantee they'll flee
just by quoting the "Bible".
take it from me

little does she know that she will have to choose
,when her parents get devorced which one she will lose
and little does she know that the alcohol she drinks
is the one thing that will put her on the brink...