Nothing to See Here

I found my muse in a bottle of Bass. She was trapped like a firefly in a mason jar. I said, "Muse, baby, sweetie, honey. What the fuck you doin' in my beer?" She looked up at me through her thick, green lashes and said, "The backstroke be-atch!"

I'm only taking a break, you see, from writing. I'm not watching the debates yet. First write, then watch.

a joker clad in plaid dress pants
genuflects and rests his case
a princess with a copper grin
dribbles plum juice down her chin
and like the hare, pursues the chase.
the hangman with a heart of gold
with little dreams and little faith
a cross to bear and poker face
takes plain text, makes it bold
and here, another soul is sold                
and liver turns to lace
but once the street that has no name
was looking fresh, was looking tame
an olive branch stuck through his lip
a jewelled dart with a poison tip
who hails from alpha fame
i want to play another game
spat mary moll to daisy dame
there's no one left to blame
a frame within a frame
- October 1999, Me