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Sometimes poems are just for kicks

I like to play with words and words into verses and verses into poems. Who doesn’t? Sometimes a poem is important and moves the moral narrative forward to a better place. These are the poems I love to read and find. But sometimes I like to write poems just for kicks. So here is a poem that is not an important poem, nor a particularly good poem. But I hope it makes you smile. This poem is dedicated to my friend, or to you,  on a day whose ‘wasband’ gave her an unacceptable word assault. (You know who you are).

 

The disgruntled wife

His words spewed from his mouth

like an angry cartoon.

She could see them hitting his carpet

capunk! capunk,! anvils on his floor.

she did the only sensible

thing to do at times like these

she collapsed his mandibles

then squeezed his eyeballs into one

an insufficient cyclops

organs tissues then cells

turned to a marbled ball of blood

and skin    she crawled onto those spaces

his molecules and atoms next

collapsed with no space

their galactic distances condensed

without their air       he was so small

smaller than a mote of dust

satisfied the disgruntled wife

began to clean HER  house

but she could not see him

so she hoovered him by accident

his ugly words no longer

on Her carpet.