Clearing the Air
I missed you when you went away,
But if you should come back today,
I will no longer—for my sight’s
Been fixed—I’ve got you dead to rights.
Hindsight is 20/20, but Absence Makes My Vision Stronger
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Tag Archives: dark humor
Murder, Mayhem, & Malicious Merriment
Squirrelly Behavior
Squirrelly, Now and Formerly
Pipkin was a rascal lad who disobeyed his mom and dad
Pestered his teachers, pinched the girls
Among the young chipmunks and squirrels
And threw hard acorns from the trees at passing mice and birds and bees
He chewed on rafters, jambs and screens
Teased babies, oldsters, in-betweens
Stole in through windows left ajar—
Alas! Could not outrun a car.
All the Same …
None Escape It
Here in the crematorium, a lily
escapes the flaming heat in Esgard’s grasp;
Esgard, though, won’t escape the same way, will he?
He’s much too far beyond his final gasp.
No need to mourn excessively, though, fellows,
for Edgard doesn’t need your tears and dread;
while he’s now in a form that quickly mellows,
the lily, too, will soon enough be dead.
Old Age and Other Natural Predators
I Realize You were Only Doing
What Comes Naturally,
But I have to Scold You, My Pet
I know you only meant to make
A dandy first impression
By killing this whole crowd, but Jake,
Behold my grave expression–
For it is impolite, I think,
And maybe even naughty,
Recruiting everyone in sight
To play the role of Body–
Your nature calls you to the task,
I knew from your first GRRR!—
But some restraint gets less complaint
Than utter massacre.
I thank you that you rout the moles
And rodents by your labors,
Dear Jakey Boy, but next time leave
Your teeth out of the neighbors.
On the upside, the house next door is available now . . .
Dizzily Dark Imaginings
Tiny Terror
Hummingbird Unmasked
My beak’s a single fang I sink in artery or vein
And none suspect me of this drink but clinically insane
And paranoid-type fantasists whom no one else believes
When they accuse the pretty bird that flits in flowers and leaves.
Though tiny as a bumblebee, I may grow round and bloated;
The nectar of your heart is how I keep my Ruby-Throated
Good looks and family heritage (and, not the least, my name),
My shapely belly and my speed of flying fast as flame.
It’s not that I’m nefarious, invidious or rude,
But merely that I have a taste for human blood as food,
And do not fear: I’d never kill you outright when I dine—
Far rather sip and savor you as vintage claret wine.
Happily Haunted Houses
Her Monument
In a strange little homestead lit by electric light
is a passing builder’s fancy floating in the neon night;
the spirit of the artisan flits by, nocturnal blue,
and shoots the moon by swooping through the ashes in the flue;
she drifts in starry glimmerings beyond the crooked room
where comet dust is settling on the folly of her tomb. O,
let lie the tools of wisdom where your little homestead rises,
and cry Hurrah! for moonlit nights
and foolish enterprises.
Someone to Watch *All* Over Me
[In a Really Creepy & Inappropriate Way]
Thought I was your stalker, violent,
Sneaking on you, ninja-silent,
Pervert peering in your casement,
Clear from attic to the basement,
With my satellite trained on you
All the way from where you’ve gone to
From my distant lair? I’ve got you
Hid from trouble while I watch you–
Baby, you’re not scared now, are you?
I’m just trying to watch out for you;
If I didn’t, who could keep you
Safe and sane, awake, asleep–Who?
I’m your hero, watching closely
So you won’t become morosely
Sad and spooked at all; to
Keep you safe and sound; I call you
In the morning and way later
Just to keep away the hater
That might try to nab your collar,
Take your keys, your watch, your dollar,
Keep you sleepless, full of sorrow–
Sleep tight, Babe! See you tomorrow.
What, *me* scary???
Penny for My Thoughts
Not to Worry, There’s More in the Bank
Do not despair that I have set low price
Upon my intellect and all its blooms,
Its wild embellishments, creative rooms
Filled full with every possible device
Invention and intelligence can build–
My brilliance shedding dazzling insights far
As light can travel from the largest star–
My memory mansion’s rooms are this far filled,
And yet I charge a pittance, just a cent,
For all the riches I have made to date,
And fling them with abandon, though so great,
Along the curb beneath your pediment.
Why would I cast my wealth thus at your feet?
Like pennies, I am also obsolete.
Art-Colored Glasses 