On the Cusp of Freedom
Strung to our dreams.
We live on the cusp of freedom, defying authority, wisdom, common sense, just to prove we can, just to prove we can go maskless like feckless maniacs camouflaged as morons in our red, white, and blue, concealing our firearms, drinking our beer.
Like frolicking puppies, licking and humping each other, as is their nature, we string ourselves to our dreams, living as twinkling lights, pretending nothing is wrong, nothing has changed, everything is exactly as it was because we so want it to be so.
No bio-hazard virus. No emergency precautions. No nothing, except magnificent skies at sunset, all the BBQ you can eat in one sitting and enough dirty limericks to laugh us all the way home.
Poetry Mega-Salvage.
Use as many of the words listed below as you can in a poem.
twinkling / stringed/ lights / red/ blue/ emergencies/ limerick / dream / puppies/ frolicking / licking/ humping / magnificent / skies / bio-hazard / maskless / feckless / maniacs / hacking/ camouflaged / morons / mullets/ freedom/ beer.
This poem happened when almost all of these words arranged themselves on the page in a peculiar order and I breathed life into them. but that could only happen because Xavier Van Holde woke up from his quarantine nap to breathe life into his Ideastream here:
Marilyn Flower writes political humor and satire to delight socially and spiritually conscious folks. She’s a regular columnist for the prison newsletter, Freedom Anywhere, where she writes about faith and prayer. Five of her short plays have been produced in San Francisco. Clowning and improvisation strengthen her resolve during these crazy times.
