Little Plastic Junkie

I think it’s quite fantastic,
That my kitty cat licks plastic.
Drop a grocery bag, she’ll grab it.
And indulge her plastic habit.
I’m not sure what to make of it.
She’ll lick until away you take it.
Produce bags, they’re her favorite.
But is this normal cat behavior?
Should I be worried? Asking why?
Does it taste good? Make her high?
She swears she’s not addicted.
Can stop at any time she wanted.
But the sad truth is, my kitty,
Is a little plastic junkie.

My Father’s Eyes

Forecast calls for sun. It should be sunny, but it Rains disappointment.

Mine are just like his.
His pale blue eyes.
Once so clear. So bright.
Beautiful and electric.
Now faded and dull.
Cold blue discs floating
In a bloodshot sea.
An icy ocean chummed
For sharks beneath.
Blood vessels floating
And bobbing like dead fish
On the surface.
The last time I looked
In those eyes, in that sea,
My heart froze.
And then it burned.
For there was his soul
At the very bottom.
Rock bottom.
Unable to surface.
Save me, it whispers
Help me.
So in I’ll dive.
And down I’ll sink.
Past the bloody surface.
Into the cold darkness
To find his soul.
I’ll hold it tight and swim.
And the sea will become clearer.
And bluer, sparkling blue.
And we’ll emerge.
His soul and mine.
And the sea,
Will be beautiful again.
His eyes as pale blue,
As a summer sky.

Winner of the Poetry Palace Perfect Poet Award Week 50. 

Not Quite Dark Enough

I could write a poem on Addiction,
But it’d never be quite dark enough,
The clichés are all true,
But they never can do,
Justice to really how rough,
That dance can be,
When that Sweet Lady,
First sweeps you off of your feet,
Before that dance is through,
She’s no doubt conquered you,
And won’t ever let you retreat,

You twirl round the floor,
Though you don’t want anymore,
Once her ugly and mean side is shown,
Your head knows it’s time,
But soon you will find,
Your body’s a mind of its own,
She’ll take control,
Of your heart and your soul,
Promise all, but deliver just fears,
Try as you sometimes might,
To put up a fight,
She can keep the dance going for years,

She’ll dance you to hell,
That much I can tell,
Cuz I’ve danced with the lady myself,
Been put through the pale,
Fought both tooth and nail,
I keep the scars in a jar on a shelf,
Only one thing to trust,
As many times as you must,
With this Lady who has brought you disgrace,
Gather love and support,
Then cut her off short,
And slap the bitch right in the face!