Robert Colpitts

Get up.
Start.
No plan.
Failure.
Waste.

Though.
I see it.
A dot.

The dungeon Queen
Demands of me
A pittance to keep me
Strong and free.

Though I a knight
In magic strong
And blessed with light
I must obey.

I ran around
And picked up bits
Of mummies, skeletons,
And zombies.

The Dungeon Queen
Demands of me
Anything she wants.

But this here poem
Written on bone
Will satiate her
This time.

Her next demand
I hope is not
A request
For my underpants!

(A poem is so much easier.)

Simple
Sweet
Deep
Unexpected
Thrilling

Surprise
You had a feeling
Yesterday
What a great one
And woke up
Today
So sad
It’s gone!
You think
You must be wrong!

Or

Surprise
You had a feeling
This morning
What a horrible one
And you sit here
Today
And think
How you are
A Hypocrite
For not
Feeling
The same

And

Surprise
It is all because
You
Thought
NOW IT’S FOREVER

How sad
It sounds
To acknowledge
This

But that
Is just
Because
You fixated
First

Bad
Human

JK

Nothing
Challenges
Now
Like
New

Sometimes

That’s
Ok

Rush
Race
Hurry
Need
Must
Now
Take
Grab
Snatch

Slow
Slow
Slow

Mind

Slow

“What in shucks godramned nitchin’ supid Red Berth do you think you are doing you boron headed shick-ucker?” asks Faith poetically. 

I measure her grace with a pool cue before answering.  She has a low rating today, and I tell her so.  Faith plans her next move, but it is not enough.  I win. 

“Didn’t you know that your ribs are made out of snakes?” Faith asks.

I didn’t know that.

aimant
peut-être

tranquillité

fin

a truck
overturned

only rust
and the Earth
and us

nous fondre
like
chocolat