I Deal Life
Does art need structure?
Well, F period art!
I am free form,
Living the mood,
Capturing in syllables,
When my right mind,
Deems worthy deliverables,
Ka-CHING!
Like a cash register popping,
It springs!
Is life, collecting tskotches that end up in the trash when you’re dead?
Is life, drinking too much, revealing too little?
Is life, presents of mine, not presence of mind?
What’s the point people?
Line please and I don’t mean Conga.
Point and purpose, stop opening up your purse,
Give without paying, it returns far greater.
Life, is teaching your daughter to read while your heart aches because your dead husband can’t.
Life, is going to Me-hee-co and picking up a cowboy ---- HAT!
Life, is judging others and forgiving yourself when you do,
Life, is gambling ---- then you die.
Kick the door open,
Wear the white cowgirl hat,
Ride that ride as deadeyes squint in frozen fear,
Don’t look in the rear as they shop ringing up their idea of life.
Get used to momentary brilliant connections.
Shake free shackles of death,
Thread of light is your now web.
Life, is enjoying airplane food, warmth in a cold cramped environment,
Life, is missing your secret lover,
Life, is looking in the mirror, not recognizing yourself,
Life, is looking in the mirror, liking what you see,
Life, is blissing from a kiss ---- and another,
Life, is wanting more than your lover will give,
Life, is rubbing the soft flushy flesh of an old open rose on your cheek,
Life, is making pancakes for your cherubs, sweet warmth always returned,
Life, is dancing in the rose garden in your pink bikini, red fringed serape and head phones.
Dance.