Lesley’s Magic Blog
Hi, I’m Lesley. I’m a writer. Join me on my weekly whirl of adventures.

More “Poetry”.

Poem to Strangers Who Talk To Me in Public

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God SHUT UP.
Nobody cares what you have to say
To that wall television.
But you have to make a comment.
Because the TV is making a comment.
I don’t CARE that you are voting for him.
Nobody CARES!
He doesn’t even have any DELEGATES.
What is WRONG with you?
I’m going to gnaw my HAND off.
OK, I’m walking away now.
Walking away.
Away
from
your
voice

Hi, everybody. Speaking of voices, I lost mine for a bit today because of my stupid cold. But I can speak loudly with the voice of Poetry.

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Here’s some more “poetry” for ya.

Synopsis of the Movie, Psycho II
(as per requested by Mikel)

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I’m Crazy.
No I’m not Crazy.
I’ve served my time and now I’m home.
So I’m not Crazy.
Wait, maybe I am Crazy….
No, I’m not.
(YES YOU ARE)
Wait- someone’s Trying to Drive Me Crazy!
So Now I’m Crazy Again.
Oh Wait I was NEVER NOT CRAZY!
That’s what I was trying to tell Me!
I’m Crazy!
See ya next time when I’m Crazy, again!

That was fun.

Now a Synopsis of Return to Oz.

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(Click on photo to see more photo!)

I’m Dorothy. It’s the year 1985-I mean
1903.
NOT 1985.
I’m depressed and in Kansas.
But now I’m in a a film set
That cost 20 million dollars
But it’s still Claymation.
And a man with a Pumpkin head is calling me “Mother”.
A robot version of Wilfred Brimley is here
And we’re on a flying sofa with a moldy talking moosehead attached.
And there’s a witch chasing me who looks like Gene Wilder
Wearing a gown made of metal feathers.
And yet, NOTHING IS HAPPENING.
Please see “The Craft” instead.

I’ll try to write more poems when I’m at Jury Duty this week!

Bye!

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2 Responses to “More “Poetry”.”

  1. As I was reading the Return to Oz poem I kept saying “I hope she mentions the moldy moose couch and that the only redeeming quality of Dorothy is that she eventually terrorized us in The Craft.” You read my mind. Thank you.

  2. Ode to Return to Oz

    In this barren landscape
    I, too, should call home
    I dream of escape to a place
    that seems forever out of reach
    If only the magic
    of electric current
    coursing through my brain
    could transport me back again
    to the land, so new, still unknown
    where I must learn anew
    about the mysteries of things
    at once familiar and strange
    Come gourd, metal of the future, and home-bound objects
    and whisk me to the mountains,
    where I shall learn…

    the true meaning of friendship.


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