On gender based toiletry

poem, gender, toilets

Attack your assailant with the baguette,
You are carrying in your hand.

Soft weapon.

Transgender toilet,
Beat the crap out of the hoodlum, male
Or female,

Black or white, think
Not you must explain,

Why, during the attack
Men should not wear,

Flaming pink knickers, demand
The sex of the person approaching,

On the dark night,
In the lovely cottage,

Be determined after you have finished
The mission.

The lady so obviously not,
In the red heels,

And the blue make-up

Knows how to use her baguette, just
Do not touch her hand-bag.

PictureViewpoint♦

-short evocative poetry-

Where Do Socks Go?

pclean_1215980c

The broom slices across the floor,
Cutting a precise path through the mess,

Clean swathe through the valley,

Creating mounds of discarded,
Clothing,

Pieces,

Returning slowly to their original state while,
Still holding plastic memories of the night out,

A strong attempt at cleaning up,
A fine start.

Loose Birthday cards too,

Steal up on you,

Perched as they are atop,

Passports

from a long time ago,

On leather surfaces by

open briefcases,

Dragging with them memories,

Sweet enough to have you sitting there,

well past that very important appointment,

With a Very Important Person,

In bed beside you now,

Like an angel,

Asleep.

Wayward sock appears on top of the,
Crest on the
Right
Smiling.

Freedom has come at last.

The lush valley,
Though it took years,

Has been traversed.

The mannequin operating the broomstick,
Is creating life at last,

As was written,
The cockroach was right.

When a window is shut,
Somewhere, a door will open.

-evocative short poetry-