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Snow Is A Softening Of The Rain

In The Winter Park

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

Time Does Not Recognize Me

The Knowledge...



Some Women/Some Woman

Laughing Maid

Brilliance

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

I Talk To A Machine In My Darkness

I Long For Stars

And Even Stars Die

I Am Time

Crowded Out

So You Do (May 10, 2010 written for June 1987)

All Beings Considered

Storms

what makes a monster (sympathy for the monster)

Max on the max

why We celebrate the losers

Make (of) Me A Snow Angel

The Times Have Come Back Of Great Want And Lack, This Is The New Great Depression

The Light Goes On In The Attic (WeAll Have Addictons)

Little Water Bug ( learning the lesson of true pain)

Hope You Enjoyed The Eclipse While It Lasted

Written For My Father Who Isn't Here To Know

I Feel Fine(r)

And With Words I Let Them Go

Used to Think I Could Fix Them.

Sometimes Love Comes With Electricity

Into The Swirling Sea Of White.

Boy Restored

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Better Than A Cyanide Capsule



Oh
you wouldn't want me
she said
I'd be you're
goose-step, goose-egg
Strop Stasi Mamma

he blinked hard twice
she was beautiful
strong-willed, strong-jawed
a large-boned, blue-eyed
cornflower woman
really, just a girl

now how could this be true
how could it
possibly be

I'll be your German disaster
I'll be your Task Master
a darlink Schutzstaffel

her commandments were mere whispers
but her commandments weren't given in jest
she asked by way of command...
he felt inclined to give into her demands
though
over her heart she wore
her best new bullet proof vest

his love was already half-broken
thumping high-hard in his schest

maybe he should've run far in the other
direction
away to the west
faster and slicker and quicker
like the villagers with pitchforks had advised
like the villagers had sworn to attest

she was a real lovely live-Monster
yah-yah

he should have seen
her initial clues
embroidered in dark scarlet hues
bleeding onto her handkerchiefs
huddled deep into her bra-est

but he was so drawn into the site
of her dead-on Nazi blues

and his brain
addled by her girl-woman coos
her kisses that tasted of
biter-sweets,  almonds
leaving him drunk on her poisonous
wah-woo's

(ach-du, beware the taste of almonds)

how could he ever
hope to escape
her death-spiral gape
her achtung-baby wiles
that high-goose-leg-kicking style
and the spring-loaded traps
of her
send-him-to-hell-in-a-fury
Nazi blues


Copyright June 16 2016 All rights are reserved
by this author/ Meloo
Straight From Her Tilt-a-World
Meloo/Melissa A Howells

all ideas /rants/poetry/proses are the
expressed legal property of this writer

edited 6/19/2016
edited 6/20/2016
edited for effect once more January 21 2017
10:31 am PST

Copyright and written June 16 2016 7:17am PST
all legal rights to this piece belong
to this writer Melissa A Howells/
copyright site title Meloo/Tilt-a-World

Originally titled Her Big Nazi Blues/considering other titles





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