The Plastictown Flood

Plastictown, Plastictown, lost in the flood!
The Resin River rose!
A plastic disaster of water and mud,
Bringing 1/24 scale woe!


Plastictown, fair jewel!
Molded by the hand of God--
We loved the sweet and rolling green
Of your old plastic sod!


Charlie, the police chief stood
On his sturdy polymer base
With a look of uncomprehending horror
On his painted plastic face!


To the stained glass of the First Plastic Church,
Where people sang Old Rugged Plastic Cross--
They peeled the plastic warning bells
And prayed all would not be lost!


Alas, too late the clap-on sun
In its lofty plastic socket--
Its light too weak, its warmth too late
Too stem the flood or stop it!

The cotton clouds, too thick, did bring
Calamity upon the land!
The waters swallowed dear Plastic High,
And the entire marching band!


Heroic Fido swam the current
To reach his master's boat!
Old Dobbin was already aboard,
Still munching plastic oats!


The Plastic Express went into the drink,
Likewise the Main Street trolley!
The Titanic sank over by the bank,
Despite the Plastic Guard's brave volley!


Plastictown, Plastictown, lost in the flood!
In the Spring of '92!
Not a trace of dear Plastictown now remains,
Though the sky's been repainted blue.

(from the book "Realistic American Disasters: A History In Verse" copyright 1952 by Herschel Wadsworth Whitman)

And, by popular demand...

The Small House

In the small house
A small girl
Spent a small part
Of every afternoon.

In the big house
Her big family
Acted all the time
Like wild baboons.

Clean windows, silver locks,
Flowers in a window box--

That's the small house
Where a small girl
Dreamed dreams as pretty,
small,
and distant
As the moon.
_____

A poem in 55 words.

Giuseppe Verdi At Large

Some dweeb holds open the door to Danny's Coffee Shop too long,
And the kitten Giuseppe Verdi is loosed upon the world.
Bounce
Bounce
Pounce
Pounce
Bounce
Pounce
Pounce.
"Come back here, you little shit!" shouts Chloe the cute blonde serial murderer,
And takes off after him as fast as her cross-trainers can carry her.

Meanwhile,
The Queen Of The Vampires, in panther form,
Has her great fearsome paws stuck up in the air
As if she were a Saturday morning cartoon character.
Her head is up against the Dark-Haired Chick
And they are both in a booth,
Joined at the hip as usual.

The Dark-Haired Chick says to the Succubus,
"Tell me what she's dreaming."
The Succubus squints,
Then tells her,
"She is dreaming that she is with you, in your kitchen.
She is dreaming that she is right side up, wearing red socks,
And that whenever she looks at you,
She feels as if she were riding in a gypsy wagon
Swaying in the wind."
Anything else?
"Yes. She wonders why the floor feels so light, like skating on chocolate."
With that, the QOTV's toes twitch;
The Dark-Haired Chick gives her dark-haired head a little shake
And her lips turn up at the corners.

Chloe comes breezing back in with the kitten Giuseppe Verdi in her arms.
"Bad boy. Baaaad boy!" she croons.
Danny's is just full of remarkable creatures
And the killer chicks who love them.

_________

Morrin

Morrin lives in the shadow-bog, the storm-side, the cold hour.
She has no lace gloves, no roof--
She has no mother, no confessor, no beguiling face;
She fell full and bloody from the wolf's mouth,
Like a moon-pale broken tooth.

Morrin nay speak, nor sing, nor pray upon her knees.
She kills cuckoos, catches crows, kisses bees.
When your carriage passes by, Morrin writhes and spits;
She wishes your horses snort, bolt, and carry you quick
Out beyond the road and the twisted trees.

Oh but you, sly and sick with dull ennui,
Bade your driver stop, to set your tiny foot
Upon the mossy grave where Morrin sat.
How delicate your fingers, how soft your tones,
When you touched her, told her she was beautiful, bold, and good.

The grateful girl let you see her cry
In the moments before new devotion turned to helpless rage--
The servants cross themselves as your carriage comes back,
Carrying your smug, giggling face beneath a wide-brimmed hat,
And broken Morrin locked in a gamesman's cage.

______

for Real Toads

An Interview With Lady Death

I recently had the opportunity to sit down with Lady Death over fraps at Danny's Coffee Shop. Here is the interview!

Shay Caroline: Thank you so much for agreeing to this. Did you have any trouble finding Danny's?

Lady Death: No, I Mapquested it, so getting here was no problem. But...

SC: Yes?

LD: Well, when I tried to find a place to park, all the meters were expired. 

SC: I hate when that happens.

LD: I know, right?

SC: So, other than the meters, what do you think of our little town?

LD: To be honest, honey, it's pretty dead here on a Sunday night.

SC: You're killing me.

LD: It's what I do!

SC: So...have you always been Lady Death? Or did you have other jobs before this one?

LD: I did stand up comedy for a while.

SC: Oh really? And how did that go?

LD: I died out there.

SC: Of course you did. Anything else?

LD: I worked as a gardener.

SC: How long did you do that?

LD: Not long. I had a black thumb. But as you can see, I found a way to make it work for me.

SC: You go, girl. 

LD: Thanks.

SC: Where did all this happen? Where is Lady Death from, originally?

LD: This may surprise your readers, but I am from a rural area just outside of West Branch, Michigan.

SC: Well now, that is surprising. You look so put together, I would have thought you were a big city girl.

LD: Nope.

SC: Do you still have a home there?

LD: No, I don't. There was a developer who had plans for building a retirement community with a big eighteen hole golf course. He bought the farm.

SC: I think a lot of people picture Death as a scary figure wearing a black hood and carrying a scythe, not as a stylish woman wearing an Ann Taylor suit and heels.

LD: Do you like the look?

SC: Yes, very much. The heels, especially, are TDF.

LD: I saw them and they took my breath away. I had to have them.

SC: Your hair looks fantastic, too. Is that your natural shade?

LD: No. I dyed.

SC: Wow, it looks great. You must get noticed a lot.  Are you in a relationship?

LD: I was.

SC: That doesn't sound good. Can you share?

LD: Sure. It started out beautifully. He told me that, when he first saw me, his heart actually skipped a beat. Several beats, in fact.

SC: That sounds exciting! What went wrong?

LD: The feelings died.

SC: If I had to guess, I'd say that this has happened to you before.

LD: It has. But why dig up the past?

SC: Fair enough. So, if you're not out painting the town, what does Lady Death do when she isn't working?

LD: I'm a movie buff.

SC: Really? That's interesting! 

LD: Yes, I watch upwards of a dozen movies a week.

SC: How do you find time to watch so many?

LD: Well...I sort of cheat. I only like to watch the endings.

SC: It's been lovely spending this time with you, Lady Death. 

LD: Are we done?

SC: We are. I'm sorry to cut this short, but I've got a deadline.

LD: Touche, Shay.

SC: I thought you'd like that!


_______ 


And, in totally unrelated news, just because it's my blog and I can...

The Story of Three Calls

Wolf calls Red.
on a public line in Marylebone?
No.
on the green concourse's courtesy phone?
No.
on her cell?
Yes.
Lunch, lunch, lunch, says Wolf,
but he slavers so.
Can't, says Red.
To Grandmother's house I go.
old
old
old
Grandma sittin' there in bed
babushka tied around her head
Maybe live,
maybe dead.
knock
knock
knock
Must be Red.

Red calls Wolf.
via singing telegram?
No.
via Western Union candygram?
No.
with the iphone in her hot little hand?
Yes.
Baby, baby, baby, says Red
wish I were with you instead.
tick
tock
tick
tock
Red stay with Gram til half of four
then Gram fall over on the floor
so Red get up
and out the door.
wait
wait
wait
ain't no bus til half of eight.

Red calls Wolf.
do she call him King? Khan? Shah?
No.
do she call him Golden Ra?
No.
do she call him late for dinner?
Never.
She sing oh, oh, oh,
I got the blues, Wolf, please believe me
Everybody I love, up and leave me.
sniff
sniff
sniff
It'll be all right.
kiss
kiss
kiss
Do Red stay the night?
who knows...
She turned her phone off. 

______

for Real Toads. Co-written with Coal Black. 

Come Back

Come back to bed--
the winter is coming.
Then, we will wear nothing but black and white
except for your crimson scarf.

Come back to bed,
while red leaves still blindly find the window glass,
like flames to us, two moths.
Let me kiss your brown and orange wings.

Look,
it rained while we were loving.
Come back to bed--
soon enough, January will settle and stun,
leaving us riven as fence posts.
I don't like to think about it.

Come back to bed.
Your brown sweater and wool socks are somewhere on the floor,
if you want them. If you're cold.
My heart loves nothing as it does
the sight and touch of your warm skin,
and beats best under your protecting palm.

Come back to bed.
I need little else to live for, but that.
By the time winter is done, you will have gone,
and the world will reduce to black and white.
I will go out walking
over the ice-sheathed leaves,
carrying only what I can't let go of,
and wearing your crimson scarf.

_______