"It's About Damned Time..."

These past few days have seen some strange
things on my personal horizons.
For the most part my words have been quite
recalcitrant, setting down on the floor with their arms
crossed like petulant three-year-olds.
They are all in on it this time,
verbs, nouns, adjectives, gerunds, pronouns,
even the usually quiet, compliant adverbs!
When the cuss words joined in I knew I was
in trouble.
++
So I have sat at this keyboard and made
a few efforts, squeezing out three or four poems,
you know, ones about Love and yearning,
about the Wine of the Beloved and the ensuing
drunken revels, but the words came reluctantly,
dragging their little punctuation marks along
on glitzy leashes, and then all those
little overwrought things did was bark
and crap on my rug.
++
So, today I asked my words just what this
was all about, why they were just
not being cooperative. They all just
stared at me. The spokesword, an old,
crusty verb said,
"You know. Figger it out."
The rest just nodded.
"Well for God's sake," I said,
"if I knew I wouldn't have asked now
would I?"
They all stared for a moment, before
turning and quietly stalking off,
back into my cortex, shutting the door
behind them. I heard the sound of
six deadbolts, two chains and and a bar
securing the door.
I am left standing here staring into my
cortex like a hypnotized penguin
This is not good.
+++
If I smoked, I'd have a cigarette,
but I don't, so I just elect to
shuffle my feet and put my hands in
my pockets.
I head off down one of the deserted
streets in my brain to try and figure this
out. Papers swirl around my feet,
and the sound of a B-52's album drifts
out of a window on the second floor.
As I pass an alley I hear something,
"Psssst. Hey! You!"
I look into the gloomy passage.
"Take a picture why don'tcha?" the voice
says..
I strain to see, when two blue eyes,
blue as a summer sky, appear.
"Who are you?" I ask.
"It's Me. God."
"God!?!"
"Helll-oooh! Yes God!" the blue eyes said
"You want loaves and a couple fish, not that
you need more loaves, to prove it?"
"No..not really. What do you want?"
An arm snaked out of the dark and the
hand grabbed me by the shirt and pulled
me toward the voice, nose to Eyes.
"My advice: get the hell out of your brain and
go have a long talk with your heart."
Before I could even squeak,
God was gone, leaving a faint odor
of tabouli and roses.
+++
So, I went right over to the elevator and
pushed the down arrow. After a short
wait, the door scrolled open and I got in,
pushing the little button shaped like a
heart.
The elevator car stopped and once more
the door slid noiselessly open.
Stepping out in to well lit room I saw my
Heart setting at a desk writing. It looked
up. "I was told to come talk to you, to see
if you can help me out."
My Heart regarded me evenly before speaking.
"About damned time." was all Heart said,
"About damned time."
+++
(C) TF 03MAY2011