Utterances of Another

Vicious, viral, and vile yes,
But don't you dare say I didn't warn you.
The drippings are your mirrors too.

Your motto states clearly that you are
Immaculate today.
Each push of your breath, though, carries the soil
Just like mine.

Harsh, spreading, and horrid.
Ok.
That's what it is when you look at me,
But what about the reflections?

I am not the greatest.
I speak but lightly at times.
The tongue whips it's candy and sin
And it is the leak into the thought.

Naughty teeth grate with the bilious verb.
Every burble is a burp of pique or maybe
A chortle of life's little times with blasts of fun.
But I choose the stage.
Although I slip from my own course,
I know at least it is still clean up time.

If only utterances of another
Were banished from my carpeting.
The frame quakes with dread
And confidence must compensate where
Arrogance was fraught with fame.

A muttering broke the electric chatter.
The batter struck and cracked the idea for the better.

From out of the mouth drift (supposedly) hopes and strings of wordy lookers.
But there are some things that are best kept in
The corridors.

Mask Maker

Make me the face.
Take time to do it right.
The smile has to be crooked
And the sly curl hinged.

There must be a dot.
That's the right cheek.
They call it a beauty mark.

Dark circles surround the eyes.
Violins strike chords into the
chin.

Music sweetly drifts from the nose
And the lips tremble with beauty and noise.

Mark me here!
The mask must be perfect as to my every imperfection!
Lullabies must scar my brow.
Display that good intention in my nostril
and that great fear in my lashes.

Target that melancholy song.
And my face will commit to you
All that you ever wanted.

There's More to it Than That

The clumps bubble up like
The side of rubber that chalks,
And festers orange, purple, green, white.
Pools spit rubies and
Twinkling roads lead treasures
Of tinkling bells.

Wells dry up and the tune
Chafes the throat.
Moreover, plenty things take
Lemonade to the Knowledge
Who drinks wisdom and
Excretes consequence.

Lemonade stand man bites
The night with his right
Knife
But kindles the ice and ivy
For the ferrets.

Blood rain boils the life
Out of those who gasp and
Sputter and beg bread
From winos who cartwheel
When gravel kicks up dust
To thrust what's left of
The field.

For very few dare smell
Steel walls before balloons
Skitter with wee ants and
Sunbeams of gaseous forces.
There is light. There is more.