who knows who won’t get something good

often the hardest lines to resist
are saying something true,
or worse, true enough,
so debate, or better,
independent movement

– liberality in latitude
let’s say – deflates, or better, possesses
yet portions of mind presence to let
the fist rattle platters, asking who
suddenly dared poison a sumptuous
supper – choosing like the worst moment
to overturn the power

rightfully ruling this
domain. Oh the horror
blasting from the hallmark greeting card,
face aghast, what nerve the puppet
has; oh please, did the drama go
so gooey so quick? Sure, show

the scissors, as always the larger
picture director rolls
eyes, sighs, waits at the door
for the usual straggling details,
namely a conifer gang
spitting farewell needles

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About Timmy the Scribbler

Love to write all kinds of stuff I love writing so many different kinds of stuff it is a constant struggle to narrow the focus to a manageable handful and let the others go. But a few years ago I dipped my fingers into a poetry pie and of all my uncertainties, one thing that is no uncertainty is that it is one passion that must remain, so maybe that's the one. I do dearly delight in chopping up fictional works into stanzas and syllables.
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