Ted in Kenora!

 

Paper Hats

Mr.Wind smugly sat in attendance

on an open sea of daily sails—

a model regatta by an English pond,

with the devote as noon dawned

or in a nursery of New South Wales?

Sheets to harness the wind,

or shield the blazing sun?

Masterful designs, every last one.

Harmful radiation to rescind.

Expert hands hastily fashion

flimsy caps of practicality,

blending into the days spirituality.

Photophobia becomes a passion.

Haughty Breeze cooled as The Sun blazed on...

and on.

Awnings of necessity

lacking in complexity

a Sherwood Merry Band

hats on heads, beads in hand.

Handkerchief toupees,

anything to block the rays

each animated hooded doll,

newsprint wall to wall

A collage of reads

in a bobbing sea of reeds,

an impromptu solution

to ordered confusion.

A sign of the Times,

these oblique pantomimes.

This flock did Herald,

tho none were imperiled

Helmets of care

for those who did stare.

A ceremony quite bizarre

but, no victory for the Daystar,

today.

Korean Buddhist ceremonies are usually held outdoors, at the mercy of the elements. On this particular Day the Wind took a break, confident his foe (the Sun) was finally to be defeated at his on game!

Paper Hats instantly sprouted on every head. No Sunday bonnets to Church in this congregation.

The following is my interruption of the simple event.

 

? Nude il--Lusions ?

Who looks down on you,

whilst you look down on

another... who likely feels

omnipotent in their own small

pond?

Which of us is worthy,

worthy enough to sit

at the table of Life;

surely not me or, or,

You?

When is one sanctified,

deserving of redemption,

freed from eternal sin

and condemnation;

ever?

How does a deity

grant grace to a race,

as disobedient and

morally corrupt as

We?

Why does generation

after generation make

the same mistakes,

running on a treadmill to

nowhere?

Where does illusion end in, reality?!

 

Looking Glass Prowler

“Lycra, my new skirt—

'll try it on...

les mauvais garçons,

ce soir”

“Damn; c'est trop court—

form hugging right;

what a sight!

Merde!”

“Gonna catch some tonite—

help from Frederick's,

should turn some trix.

Dam-mn!”

“Fence net thigh highs—

stretch garter mesh thong,

sure to draw a throng!

Haugh-t!”

“Stilettos so high.

Oh, I'm sooo good,

could melt wood.

Danger!”

“Tear drop pendant to accentuate—

twin zircon tipped assets,

atop cleaved rockets.

Chezam!”

“Practice the strut—

pout; eye roll,

coy indolent stroll.

Drool fool!”

“Little dab of poison—

at points of heat...

not too discrete.

Go knock'em dead - Bitch!”

les mauvais garçons = the bad boys, pronounced “lay mow-vay garzon”

ce soir = tonite

c'est trop court = it's cheek poppin' petite; nano-mini!

Merde! = expletive, “feces” or the like (faeces for hanuman & U.K.ers et al)!

For idlewriter – itz another of my personalities that escapes the box now & then!

 

Dipping Birds

 

 

Bubble heads

mechanically bowing up and down,

another bead clicks on way to 108.

Each genuflect

a coin dropped in the wishing well

of hopes and tears—

gimme, gimme, never gets religiousity.

Sacrilegious scraping

to pressure a deity into compliance;

as if He could be influenced or bought.

Each hen squawking the same wish,

a flock of all me firsts!

Donated bribes grease the wheels

to garner favor from the Saviour.

Turning a deaf ear to the Sermon

that only the walls hear—

who listens to that gibberish,

it's meant for others anyway!

Bet the Preacher hung,

is he looking my way?

Dare I give him a wink?

Conviction evaporates

at the first clack

of the dinner bell,

now the stomach God

must be appeased

and the waddle clucks away.

I'd like to acknowledge Bruce Willis in TheWholeTenYears II for the term 'religiousity'!