Wicked Flowers
by MrDaMan
Virgil R. Hall II (Randy)

The soil is rich with a chaotic blend…
Composted dreams and the refuse of life
garbage in and the love of chaos out.

Roots seeking sustenance in the dark,
chasing worms… ever… so… slowly.
Breathing deeply of moist nutrient Earth.

Reaching with tendrils of green to the surface,
where the winds of oxygen whip leaf and stem
to dance bound and victim of circumstance.

Drawing warmth from the yellow distant sun
and strength from the moons reflective dew.
Slaves of procreative pleasure and growing pain.

Drowned arbitrarily in patters of liquid insanity,
drinking the nectar of the gray, obscure, falling sky.
DEFIANT!… By God, by storm of thunderous applause.

The wicked flowers bloom in a feisty poets garden,
with blues to challenge the oceans,
yellows to challenge the sun,
whites to challenge innocence,
and reds to challenge the blood.

Love is lost and found in this bed of riotous splendor.
Where imagination never sleeps and souls are seduced
by the weeds and the planted seeds of a poets garden.

Let’s Play
by MrDaMan
Virgil R. Hall II (Randy)

Excuse me, let me grab you by the scruff
of the imagination and shake the shi.. stuff uhh,
the everyday mundane crap out of your souls.

Don’t get me wrong, I ain’t no preacher.
I’m just a poet with a penchant for rattling bones.
I wanna stretch the skin over your mind so tight
it’ll thunk when I beat it like a different drum.

I don’t wanna play you…
I want you to play with yourself.
Let your inner child jump up and down
in your imagination and cry
Weeeeeeeeeee!

Bounce, Bounce on that trampoline of a brain,
do a mind flip and dive into a pool of emotion.
Dog paddle in passion and try to survive
the fathoms of chaos under your kicking feet.

If you can’t play with yourself, you’ll drown
in the sobriety of order and no one will want
to play with you… Come on, come on!

Let’s play.