ts735bSTUDENT10 | Poetry Vibe
ts735bSTUDENT10
This poet practices good karma and posts comments 8000

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RUBY

  ruby
Total poems   541
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The landlady turned rogue

CATEGORY

life

Views: 17

Back a small number of years thee diva of this domicile

exhibited an aura, charisma, enigma…devoid of any guile

boot of late turned a cold shoulder to me and I’ll

avoid denigrating, haranguing, and lambasting said dell lisle

la, whose avoidance behavior toward me – who goes a mile

out of her way to ensure our paths do not cross – Noah din nile

per the above – well, perhaps a slight bit of hyperbole

    viz this, mine swift tailored, harried style

per potpourri of puzzling perturbation evinced 

   by said olde world germane German dame we lease this duplex

   treating us, as if we committed some egregious crime

   subsequently forced to stand trial

viz aversion toward this convivial, frivolous and introspective chap

   methinks said realtor/renter joined a coven den 

   Where doe eyed Zen of thieves 

   Occupy teaching rubric of mean-ness while

taking appropriate and selective pages from playbook of Sarah Palin.

Which tension unlikely to cease for the next month till the deed

doth expire, where by this witch a taw hook cans(ours) will be freed

of renting a long and fostered, roach and fox infested, century21

   from once salient sympathetic ear this, now manifests Scrooge like greed

reminding us (essentially via cessation of any interaction), 

   how she once did heed

to our various and sundry travails – though neither myself nor the spouse, 

   the latter whose vociferousness regularly exudes loathsomeness 

   toward said key per, and once a vouch saving storied angel 

without fail and indeed

wife tis not shy to vent where a plethora of expletives lead

   rant and rave toward an impending crisis that will me send out an SOS 

ever felt compelled to join Hemlock society or drown sorrows in mead

yet, a disappointment arises a formerly positive dynamic now im peed

did by reasons unbeknownst to me, 

   who feels ever so grateful ye chanced to read

my babbling of the poetically irrational from a regular joe, 

   Who doth not sport Harris Tweed

nor (despite any immediate intimations), 

doth newt smoke booze nor drink weed.
 

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