The Unprincipled School

What couldn't be done you may not do,
What could be done you have a right to;

What can be done they're willing to,
What can't be done they won't do;

When you're not willing they won't want you,
When you're willing they will want you to;

What they're not willing they will want,
What they don't want they'll be willing;

Where there's a will there's a way,
Where there's a way, you will.

In an uncertain case,
hypothesize your faculty
as the perfect practicality.

My Love

No'ne hurts more than people unloved
Save people, in dreams, who're accepted
When image in thought of you do move
Me to tears of gladness unrested

To your ghost guarded in mind's attic
I 'xcuse my boo-hoo not that mature -
"Sorry to be melodramatic.
Love is, I s'pose, just that by nature"

Soon's I, defeated, apologize
A light leaks in 'n' inner days start
Long last love breathes when, recognized,
I do not love you with all my heart

It's straightforward now what's left to do
With what you've done or not, I'll call you,
In need of rest from woe and weary,
"Dearest friend," my love in theory.

Knot

knotofhair
rootsbymy
leftearthat
clumpwhenI
pullharder,
Ihateyou.

Hanoi Walk

clogged French fountain with mossed stone frogs, big red foam flowers,
smart phones ducked from wet tree showers, dyed hair, faked jeans, short-legged dogs,
pinked little girls in darned hats, basket and bike with thousands motorbiked
tasteless details smothered by fog, drizzly Turtle Lake cooled for a Tet walk.

The Perfect Body

Pupils of an intellect who's lived
Fearless wind-polished complexion
Eye level means all's meant to give
Hands benighted to usurpation
A well-trained vocal for humor well-aged
Not-too-young-a-heart for "might not", "you may"
And modest stomach, one solid poop on average
Two or at least one point five times a day.

Wicked

want of whory tales
wormy walk to fail
war witches on nails
worry? worship whatever sails

Pillow*

Look at the stars, look how they shine for you
And everything you do
Yeah, you were my pillow.

I came along, I wrote a song for you
And all the things we do,
And it was called Pillow
So then I took my turn,
Oh what a thing to have done,
And it was all pillow.

Your cover
Oh yeah your cover and fluff
Turn into some beautiful stuff,
You know, you know I love you so,
You know I love you so.

I swam across, I rolled across for you
Oh what a thing to do
'Cause you were my pillow.

I sewed a line, I sewed a line for you
Oh what a thing to do
And it was all pillow.

Your cover
Oh yeah your cover and fluff
Turn into some beautiful stuff,
And you know, for you I'd bleed myself dry,
For you I'd bleed myself dry

It's true, look how they shine for you,
Look how they shine for you,
Look how they shine, look how they shine for you
Look how they shine for you, look how they shine

Look at the stars, look how they shine for you
And all the things that you do.

*All words in this post, except the different words, belong to Coldplay.

Garden

I wish a garden grew behind my home, I will go to it now
To wet warm grass, and sun-burnt bark, cold stones dipped in clay
To flying dirt and toasty burrows of sixteen rabbits, furry shadows
Grasshopper-bent blades bob to the quick heartbeat of May

In tight friendly rows I'll raise blood-blushing tomatoes
Brushing against my elbow would be a hair of dill
At night when I'm not here, leaves re-scent, green bodies grow
Mint, oregano, tangled tarragon, unblinking blooms of chamomile

And all will be a picture, even one mushy apple rotten,
Half-bodied in soil, the innards spoiled and skin unbroken
Except one eye ogling the sky, a festered hole worm-eaten,
A sugary stink, nose-tickling, risen when it my free foot steps on.

End of a Dinner Party

The lights are dimmed. A glide to the divan.
Strangers are dearer, the pillows fought over, and the clever not knowing who'll clean.

Plunked in smoke, tumbler ashtrays, and gastric breath
Someone swallows, some eyes talk, a hand plays with itself,

Leg on another's leg, cheeks and hips no longer afraid, and punctuation's drink.
Scotch 'n' cigar lifted, the gifted of the gab spit on those who are not

And the silent are more drunken, yet taken care of, like deaf-mutes in warm bunny suits.
Sooner or later, cold shoes are filled. The host slouches, and (quite loud) he hears his slippers hiss.

A Melodramatic Rape

I bind you with a ribbon.
I ask you if it hurts.
I lay my body down on yours
Your answer goes unheard.

I crush your hands with mine
I make so they hold mine
I force my body down on yours
You love because you're mine.

I burden you with lust
Think "I'm not given, but I take"
And everything that's hurt me
I damn you with each thrust.

I see you cry below me
With kisses we both know
You've given me your body
And I to you, my soul.

At the MegaStar Cineplex Watching My Week with Marilyn

Seated in the seventh row,
Watching Marilyn Monroe
Next to four filthy rich girls,
At the risk of feeling old
With eyes fixed on the show
I gave mitten'd hands a blow
And rubb'd my knees.
Boy, it's cold.

Sza

My baby nephew speaks in grunts -
Whines for words and no is a moan;
A roaring retch at what he likes;

At stares of pity, panick'd pants;
Impatient groans a' looks too concerned;
A haughty wave means "Take a hike";

Cherubic Nero gives command
With not-so-rude behs, pfwahs, and uhhns
One soft curled finger, his pike.

My nephew is a little man
Even when he strikes.