Love sinks low,singing-
A duet between drowning hearts.
Her smile is the last breath before the tar closes in.
I play my guitar till the strings blisters,
Till the bubbles stop breaking the surface.
Still,the Cheshire Cat keeps playing,
Because silence is the deepest pit of all.
riggle raggle piggle paggle rat rat rat
what’s the average weight of a Siamese cat?
riggle raggle piggle paggle rat rat rat
what’s the most dangerous blood sucking kind of bat?
riggle raggle piggle paggle rat rat rat
Aunt Mary, how did you get so enormously fat?
riggle raggle piggle paggle rat rat rat
why are you sitting on Uncle’s thoroughly squashed hat?
It was a perfect day, a sunny golden day.
I felt the gentle sweep of easy breezes,
the music of the wind.
It was my daily stroll around the neighborhood,
my daily clarity.
It was there, and then I beheld the cat,
the leashed Siamese cat, prowling and smelling.
A man clutched this leash, seeming absorbed,
seeming preoccupied by cat rubbing and sniffing,
cat prowling and surveying land and sky.
Never had I witnessed a leashed cat.
This was a way we controlled and humanized dogs.
Cats were always wilder, less human, and freer.
My usual steps brought me nearer to
the cat on a leash. The owner had his back to me,
he seemed unaware of my approach.
But Siamese cat offered me a predatory stare,
ready to pounce on my flopping shoelaces.
I knew then my shoes were doomed,
my laces would soon die.
No, I couldn’t stop laughing.
He was all fancy phat and pinky pink
Dancing a jig with a kick and a clink
Kicking off mud in a priggish way
A pig who liked dancing at the end of day
He was a marvelous companion, it is true
We liked everything about him said my friend Boo
A pig who was all that, and fancy phat!
I invited him to the wedding of my Siamese cat.
Let’s Rob the Bank
Let’s rob the bank
Take all our money
And the overdraft
Go somewhere sunny
Let’s rob the bank
Escape the monotony
Worry about nothing
Eat bread and honey
Let’s rob the bank
Rent an huge flat
Somewhere in the sun
Buy a Siamese cat
Let’s rob the bank
Let them do the worry
We’ll live it up
Life in a hurry
What about the kids
Your son my daughter
We might miss
Them at the alter
If we rob the bank
We’ll live in hiding
No phoning home
Somewhere in West Riding
Can’t rob the bank
You know it’s wrong
The police will hunt
We won’t last long.
Get up for work
Carry on like ever
Dream of escape
But knowing we’ll never.
David Cox 05/11/23
through cloudless starry nights
her deep darkness hidden
by the brightness of her beauty
eyes shimmer like sapphires
like a beautiful Siamese cat
lying in wait
after the grandchildren left, I checked the room.
It was still tidy and neat, maybe they had used Zoom?
I checked the computer, but the keys were not hot.
They had been giggling in here, and I mean a lot.
My daughter looked in for one last good bye.
I hope they left everything intact she said with a sigh.
All looks great, I say, and it did at the first glance.
I did not see the closet until later, their dressing room chance.
I had spent hours putting all of my clothes up before they came.
Now most of the stuff was on the floor, it was not the same.
I know better now than to let them have the room and close the door.
I cannot walk through the clothing on my messed up floor.
But then again, it was my own fault in a way.
I wanted to get to see my daughter, and talk that day.
Their hours of closet fun gave us time for that.
So it was worth it, right? I said to my annoyed Siamese cat.
As Siamese cat frightens the pygmy jerboa rat,
So too humans under fate or destiny's habitat;
I am chained; grab-hooked; the master-link is held by someone,
Like a stray dog, I am pulled; dragged; by everyone outdone...!
I am unquenchable; thirsty; my ponds are troubled, yet,
Though this has been against my wish, my tongue I cannot wet;
God too plays the determiner, like monkey puppeteer;
Hypnotizes the beings he's created; like snake-charmer...!
How must I live? How many days? How should I, at last die?
In death-bed or death, grave or interment, how must I lie?
When should my soul, like earthly water-drop evaporate?
When and where should, it, with the pure spirit incorporate...?
It should, anyhow, be born-again though it does not will,
Does habitat-destruction, the death human beings, kill?
Midst ocean of life-cycle forced beings feel, within, ill,
Could anyone, his or her existence, freely choose still...?
17 August 2022
A Siamese cat with attitude was walking down Tokyo Boulevard
Horns were blowing; people were freaking out during their ride.
It’s just a kitten, one of the grandma types said to her night guard.
But he is enormous, a giant, smashing cars right and left he replied.
The cat was angry with his wife, who had run off with Santa Claus.
He was focused on his goal, which was to confront her to her face.
Cars were being smashed and bashed by his angry claws and paws.
Nothing much left for him to salvage, Siamese was in disgrace.
Oh man! Here he comes now the wife said to Santa Claus in the sleigh.
We are up here! Santa Claus yelled to Siamese Cat. Hey! Hey! Hey!
I thought that idiot said “Ho! Ho! Ho!” Siamese cat said.
Not realizing Father Christmas was man with whom wife did now play.
I am in this place and you are in that.
The living visit the dead
but the dead move among us
looking for where we were.
Only occasionally
do our time lines connect,
and only if you count disconnection
as a sign of previous contact.
My dead dog
still sticks her wet nose in my ear
when I, in my troubled sleep visit her,
but she is not there. she is off
tracking a ghost
twenty years before.
Same goes for a Siamese cat
and a Malay girl.
There was a loving place once.
The cat now hunts small lizards
in a land we have named ‘yesterday’,
the girl has long ceased planting flowers
on a graveyard of hope.
Today I am on the doorstep of
of a Thai restaurant - I think I once lived in Thailand,
but it could have been this other person,
a younger man
who walked through time as if invulnerable.
I enter, order a meal in a language
I thought I had used up and put away.
Now I visit the words again,
yet even words forget how I once spoke.
A man with no fingers
waves his fingers at me.
My third day of amoebic dysentery
and though my yellow eye
can see, they see what they choose to.
The guy is not a feverish delusion,
he comes to my house
every morning to sweep my veranda.
I hear my young wife
scolding our Siamese cat,
its brought another snake home,
Chiang Mai abounds with them,
but today my skin is crawling enough.
The guy with no fingers – just stubs,
goes under the house
to hunt for larger snakes;
the house is on stilts
and I imagine his head
under my cot.
his skull is slowly blooming.
leprosy flowers are sprouting
from the hole at the top of his head.
The word ‘puce’ will always
make me think of puss from now on.
From now on
I buy only red flowers for my wife.
There is hardly any blood-letting
at the leprosy institute
just a slow wearing a way of dry flesh,
and me with a fever
that will return forty years later.
Tropical Ohio lasts for some days.
I imagine the cot, the mosquito nets,
a slow moving fan too high above
to save me from a febrile drowning;
then the serpent in my brain
passes away from lack of sleep
and an excess of chicken broth.
I am in this place
and you are in that.
I suspect you are in a different place,
one I have yet to recall, or visit.
Same goes for my dog, but now and again
her wet nose in my ear wakes me up
from a troubled sleep.
Same goes for the mean snake slaying Siamese cat
that scratched me to pieces.
I reckon that it still exists in some parallel universe,
still craping on some other
poor son of a .
Today I am on the doorstep of
of a Thai restaurant - I think I once lived in Thailand,
but it could have been this other person,
someone who lives in another dimension,
a place just a smidgeon from my left eye.
------
Dancing Disney tail;
A graceful Siamese cat
Must get attention.
Have you met my
mysterious Kat?
Some says she's invisible in
black,
Famous for catching the Rat
pack!
She once dated Tom,now it's
Jack,
Pussy dolls even got
into the act,
Signing her in a million
dollars contract!
A tour around the moon
with NASA and back,
But she would have none of
that,
A twist,turn and off like a
jet.
Hates flashlights and being
wet,
She would steal your heart
if you let,
She has more lives you can
bet.
No men has caught her in
their net,
She believes she is noone's
pet,
And the whole world is her
playground set.
I'll let you know she's not
leaving me yet,
What she wants she always
get,
Her match she has not met.
Most of all she stays with
me coz i'm fat.
She is my whitish blue
siamese cat!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Bumble bees buzzing hard,
A little girl plays in the yard,
Ivy running amongst the trees,
Don't you smell her disease?
Igloo fit just for two,
Hot chocolate in remembrance of you,
Fourth of July's between the blinds,
Now I can read between the lines,
Siamese cat taken off to jail,
Cadillac car that had to sail,
Brother in law at the door,
Everything was such a chore,
Weight bench, a spotter, and tape in the deck,
Watch as the weather brings on this shipwreck.
By: Sabina Nicole
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