ZoeBee

Isn't it lovely to walk upside-downs
And see all the smiles that were meant to be frowns?
Isn't it great to take yesses from nos,
To take roses from thorns,
To take closers from fros?

Isn't it lovely to breathe underwater,

The Plautius Mump lives under the floorboards of theatres
And feeds on applause and ill-fitting waistcoats
The Plautius Mump in our auditorium is named Frankus Dimitri and he is very upset if we don't serve up

My depression is not poetic
I don't smash pearl-inlay vases given to me by distant mothers-in-law
I don't clean shards up on my hands and knees in housedresses while I hurry to put the chicken in and drink before Harry gets home

Engineered consent
Burn your bras, bitches!
Then buy our bras
Burn your bras and burn the patriarchy but buy our bras because our bras are rebellious

Three wisened old men are walking down the aisle of an old-fashioned locomotive
Picture it
Rich polished wood benches with worn green carpets adorning scuffed black soles

This poem rhymes all of the times
Because I cannot talk well
This poem has a lot of
Pauses
AndjoltsandjumpsandsometimesBuMpS
Because I cannot walk well

Sometimes my writing shrieks and then the words
Rush down the isles