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Charles Serio ©2011 all rights reserved.
Poetry
Has anyone let out the cat?
No, not that one stays within
Only that other...
No, watch out.
I wish I could put garlic
In everything
And then I remember
The ironing board.
So many pretty pictures
Pretty is as pretty does
All those flapping fake eye lashes
All those people heading home.
Grown up people never skip
There's something wrong in that
There, I've given my permission
Skip. Skip.
You want to go away
Have a holiday
You want to leave me all alone
With brochures of Zimbabwe.
I looked into her eyes
The left one looked at home
The right one swung this way and that
Just like a metronome.
Scots have beautiful accents
Like they're singing a drinking song
Or talking the baby to sleep
Even on the telephone.
I remember when I was young
My dad played Lily Pons
Old 78's of course
I wonder where they've gone?
The whole world's doomed
What a cheery thought
The travelling salesman
Worries what he caught.
He went to have an Aids test
At the special clinic
He giggled along with the awaiting throng
To camouflage his panic.
Something about them
You can't trust
What they do
Disgust.
Please excuse me
For being ill
I took the other half
Phenylcocomyocine.
She doesn't do much for me
Though I wouldn't say she's bad
Such an awful habit
I hate it when we gossip.
You can share the same mind
If you come within
You can join us later
When the rain sets in.
It's a musical interlude
And you can sing along
If it makes you happy
If it makes you smile.
Then you can analyze this
To pass the time
Scan its meter
Decide it shouldn't rhyme.
Everyone expected it
I think they were surprised
It hadn't happened sooner
It should have happened younger.
Will it be a grumpy god
Living in the firmament?
If he's holding any grudges
I think we ought to know.
No, not that one stays within
Only that other...
No, watch out.
I wish I could put garlic
In everything
And then I remember
The ironing board.
So many pretty pictures
Pretty is as pretty does
All those flapping fake eye lashes
All those people heading home.
Grown up people never skip
There's something wrong in that
There, I've given my permission
Skip. Skip.
You want to go away
Have a holiday
You want to leave me all alone
With brochures of Zimbabwe.
I looked into her eyes
The left one looked at home
The right one swung this way and that
Just like a metronome.
Scots have beautiful accents
Like they're singing a drinking song
Or talking the baby to sleep
Even on the telephone.
I remember when I was young
My dad played Lily Pons
Old 78's of course
I wonder where they've gone?
The whole world's doomed
What a cheery thought
The travelling salesman
Worries what he caught.
He went to have an Aids test
At the special clinic
He giggled along with the awaiting throng
To camouflage his panic.
Something about them
You can't trust
What they do
Disgust.
Please excuse me
For being ill
I took the other half
Phenylcocomyocine.
She doesn't do much for me
Though I wouldn't say she's bad
Such an awful habit
I hate it when we gossip.
You can share the same mind
If you come within
You can join us later
When the rain sets in.
It's a musical interlude
And you can sing along
If it makes you happy
If it makes you smile.
Then you can analyze this
To pass the time
Scan its meter
Decide it shouldn't rhyme.
Everyone expected it
I think they were surprised
It hadn't happened sooner
It should have happened younger.
Will it be a grumpy god
Living in the firmament?
If he's holding any grudges
I think we ought to know.
4/9