The Poetry Marathon

Selfish Jack
Because you never let me see what’s inside

You never let me in to see what’s inside

As my suspense builds up with each wind

You never let me see what’s inside

I’ve known you all this time

Yet you never let me see what’s inside

This house that Jack built

This box you live in

I wait and I wait for your song to end

But you still won’t let me in

Just to see what you’ve done to that weasel

Maybe it’s supper time for you and the weasel

Is your home nice and cozy for you and that weasel

Have you many places to seat who you entertain

Is there room for me in your humble abode

May I please see your table and chairs

The draperies hung to your windows

The tea kettle on your stove

How many boudoirs do you have, is there one for me

Please I must see

The weasel no longer lives in Jack’s house
I think he may have cooked him

i wasn’t invited so I don’t care

pop goes the weasel

~ism

Just one seat for the lady of the evening, chair fit so fairly for a queen

in the ladies room

dare you to even attempt to sit in it

Clothes adorned; so worn, splatters of blood and the human stain.

Ashamed because she never left this building
Death came to her that fateful night she stayed late
He never acknowledged her pleads
Halls filled with her screams of terror
No locks on this public bathroom door
A building full  of empty rooms
Filled with spirits of the day’s passing
No one left to witness this sacrilegious act of desecration

only walls only this building knows
If only these walls could talk of what they see
Old buildings like these incinerate their secrets

The evil that lies within

Just one seat for the lady of the evening a seat she’ll have for all eternity.

~ism

Do you see me

I wonder

can you see the tightly coiled strands of my hair that creates my crown

The roundness of my ass from the remnants of the shape

I USE TO HAVE

or am I invisible

do I walk into rooms through doors that are unseen

or am I unimportant and unattractive

in your dead eyes to bring your attention to me

You don’t see these thunder thighs

or these mesmerizing pretty brown eyes

you can’t see the voluptuousness of my bosom

flowing freely over this belly of goodness

that protects my Austrailia-down under

shit, my pouch is where it’s at

and ha, DONT YOU DARE CALL ME FAT

Hey I just got a lot more of what every woman has to give

divinely distributed from my front to my  back to my sides and my mid

but don’t worry when it’s time to take care of business

I can still drop it like its hot

and make you fall in love

you dig???

~ism

Hello!!

I’m preparing….sharpening my tools!!!