She came to collect

With her piece shoved 'neath her blouse...

She came to collect

Like a cat comes for her mouse...

But the mouse hole was dry,

And there wasn't a sign

Of the boss who had wronged her, and then

Packed her aside

Like a beef shank or brisket

One would hang on a hook...

She came to collect,

And her eyes had that look...

The look of the maimed, or

Deranged, or derailed...

Elise had no shame,

She was hot on the trail,

And left devastation at

Every wrong turn...

No seedling was spared!...

No bridge left unburnt!...

So it was that when her boss,

Luke returned

From his dive

With a plastered blonde skunk

Who could barely limp on,

Though Luke had her resting

Propped up his chin,

This sick swan from Suburbia

Was ready to swim,

But before they could rest

They passed through the gate,

And discovered this mess...

The flames licked the windows!...

They melted the paint...

There was someone inside

Who had

Sealed their own fate

Just by knowing Luke well,

But not well enough...

With the scent of fat searing,

And the gas blowing out

All the red in

Luke's jelly jar suddenly now

Went south...

He ditched the doused blonde

In the bushes and ran!...

She was gin-soaked, and sloshed,

And not part of the plan...

Luke could tell by the red bead

That fell on his ass

That a girl had caught up with him

From his checkered past...

Aye, but who could it be?...

He would not

Breathe to know

The first bullet passed through him

With it's cousins in tow...

Too soon he was only

Hamburger on toast

Six feet underground

Where the maggots

Would host;

In a graveyard beneath

An unmarked slab of stone...

Elise came to collect...

Now, without dial tone,

She fell from the peak

Of her favorite scene

Where she came to watch waves

Crash, and castaway streams;

As most rivers and reservoirs

Met at this beach...

Yes, her swooning green eyes

Were quite brilliant and wild...

So lovely, and almost

Befitting a child

As the orbs caught the light,

And reflected the brine

That her flesh barely kissed,

Just like lips upon wine...

11/28/23

Bunny Villaire

Edit #2

When it's a good story, and I'm starting to get hooked, I'll feel the writer taking me under his/her/their wing as if the story was written just for me. The author will say things that will disarm me, and break down my walls. They'll keep me interested by taking risks that make me gasp by their audacious honesty that exhume my buried recesses. When I get that buddy buddy camaraderie thing going that's when I feel like I can finally unmoor myself from my physical reality and let the magic begin.

I love dark humor, and characters that feel authentic and could live in my own reality. I'm not really enthralled with fantasy, because I feel like I'm avoiding the strife of everyday living much like Americans ignore the plight of the world with high-tech distractions and their worship of celebrity lifestyles. There are some fantastical stories that I can read, but they have to still harken back through the characters to real life dialogue and ways of thinking. Science Fiction is an example of this because it's a fantastical different time and place, but it addresses problems we are dealing with nowadays. I can dig erotic writing too, and can become engaged in it because sex is a fantastical magic that sprouts from reality.

Feeling the great suction of the read I can hear the whistling in my ears and take off to another dimension! This is the enchanting power that the good writer has over the reader, especially if they choose to invoke the responsibility of being a good writer. This is part of the reason that I write; because I want to pick up the cross of the great writer's and hold people's attention with the words at my disposal like an old man feeding the ducks crusts of bread at the pond. It's also the reason I struggle with writer's block, which is not a bad thing to struggle; it just means you need time to regroup. To become a great writer takes years of work, and most importantly the ability to read other people's writings. The more books you read the more you write! I'm so happy there's so many great writers in the world to choose from!

11/22/23

Bunny Villaire

There is a mess inside the city

An ugly place adrift from hands...

An appellation sprayed in paint describes

It's termination;

Right here infected methods stand

Long after the deaths, and endless

Heart aches...

The screams of protest in the night...

The people walk with shoulders hunched,

Their eyes pad-locked

To their feet...

No sympathy regards their plight...

There could be Wars;

They'll never see them...

Another campaign

Came and went...

Who's been elected,

And does it matter?...

The coffers empty...

Energies spent...

Where are the ones who could take notice?...

Why are these tarnished streets so stained?...

The men walk dead...Eyes grey as gravestones...

Young boys get high to feel no pain...

In each gas station you'll see a crack pipe...

Their burning candles at both ends...

Where can a precious soul find work in waste?...

New seeds are scattered as gales descend...

The women pregnant with more failures

Are part and parcel of this scheme

While realtors sell off the world in pieces...

The average Joe dry humps his dreams;

Remaining blind to how each mounting vice

Works like rat poison to the poor...

In coffeeshops I overhear Vampires

Massage their egos, and employ more rich...

Exploiting charities; they funnel smuggled funds

Like cocaine up their nose

Without a flinch for what their doing...

Their just high rollers on a wave!...

They use hype words like "Aid"; "Relief"

So they can scalp another day,

And sleep right through another evening...

While the cockroaches plague the lives

Of all these phantoms who will not be counted...

Not fit to tailor or survive...

There is a mess inside the city

An ugly place adrift from hands...

An appellation sprayed in paint describes

It's termination;

Right here infected methods stand

Long after the deaths, and endless

Heart aches...

The screams of protest in the night...

The people walk with shoulders hunched,

Their eyes pad-locked

To their feet...

No sympathy regards their plight...

11/19/23

Bunny Villaire

Edit #2

I leapt above your silver mirror

Like a skimmer making waves...

My vault was high,

My precision placed

Just a perfectly laid pebble on

A stoney path to paradise...

Maybe life will throw this

Boy a raft

But for now I'm looseygoosing

Like an Autumn leaf unfurled...

Be kind to me my oyster pearl!...

Your mouth lays open in a pantomime

Of an extended gasp...

Don't take away my safety web...

This netting makes a pleasant bed

Like roses without thorns...

I leapt above your silver mirror

Like a skimmer making waves...

Maybe tonight I'll face that foe...

That bad seed, hard nosed,

Part-time pro

Who's planned a scam for ages

With a fool like me in mind...

I pray I can evade them

Just before the curtain fall...

For many moons

I've braved the spikes,

Heeding intrinsic call...

Taking names, and making tracks!....

I left a boot heel on their backs,

But still the noose swims wanton

Like a spotlight or a halo...

If I could only sit awhile and slip off

In deep thought

Where spiders weave their precious webs,

And tadpoles of loose dreams

Wriggle through the fingers of the

Conjurers of days

That come and go no matter what

The weather sends their way...

11/17/23

Bunny Villaire

Edit#2

Cut from the same cloth...

That's what it feels like

When you have a child,

And you love that child with all

Of your beating heart...

When their little hand finds yours in the dark

You feel the doors within swing open,

Like they do when you kiss the lips

Of the one you love,

And they love you back to the moon,

And stars...

Yes there will be pain, and hardships galore;

As you wear your cards on your shirt...

Your Achilles heel in your eyes

For anyone to attempt to savage,

But love makes you ever more the hero

And the fighter for survival and for

Self actualizing; though at times on the surface

It feels as if the self has been snuffed out...

All this becomes most apparent for ME

Through the trembling hearts I choose

To surround myself with,

And have chosen me back...

Bonds bring more depth...

I thought I wanted the mask of a dying world,

But bonds wash my eyes and toss the snakeskin

To the wind...

Bless this boy who now swims

In a half sleep beside me,

And please may he find a

Healing sleep soon

Where his dreams

Reveal even more untapped potential...

Cut from the same cloth...

I feel his flesh and mine combined

As he struggles through dirt

To find himself in an uncertain world...

My boy against the high beams facing

The strain of his fresh petals now in bloom...

11/14/23

Bunny Villaire

Edit #2