no cause did she leave un-espoused

underdogs were her stock in trade

though slender, she was a freedom fighter

she was a brave and comely maid

we got together in mozambique

in those days that was the place

tending the wounds of a beggar

hers was a fine and open face

critics might deem her reckless

I flew out knowing she would die

she stood to wave, then turn...

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Missing life. Empty streets. Cold hearts.

Covering your face what you once criticised on stranger's faces.

Missing love. Empty hearts. Cold air.

Covering the flowers in your heart, the strings of my guitar.

Missing music. Empty stages. Cold rooms.

Covered ears, listening to scary news, not to music anymore.

Missing passion. Empty beds. Cold skin.

Covering all lu...

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They gather on the plains of Babylon.

“It's party-time dear friends!”, the invite reads.

“Let's shake it down and cross the Rubicon.”

“A stairway up to heaven is our need.”

The plots they thicken, artful plans are honed.

They build their zigurrat to breach the blue.

Bizarre bed-fellows meet and greet, combine

In shifting shapes to overthrow the throne.

“Rise up! Throw down...

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Practice missed perfect.
Fat lady forgot to sing.
Doctor caught the flu.

Writers are rebels.
They forever cross the line.
T'hell with haikus.

This is poetry.
Not exactly an exam.
Simply a word fest.

Seven syllables
Neatly sandwiched between five?
Great, my pen can rest.

© Candice Reineke 2013

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Flash Mob,

We're the greatest gangsters

since the Wild Wild West.

For what we do

we're the very best.

We're the Flash Mob,

We're the Flash Mob.

Back in Chi Town they were run by Capone

I prefer to make a racket with my Al CaBone.

Hipsters think the Flash Mob is all about Twitter

but just like Babe Ruth I'm a heavy hitter.

This is a stick ...

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