The Serial Mother Hen

Large, glaring imperfections
Draw out the reservoir
Of my affections

I don't care
If they come sans hair
They still win
My romantic elections

For these losing men
I am Mother Hen
Till such time they qualify
For my rejection!

Nobody Starts Out Vile

Initially, nobody
Starts out vile
The infant's innocence
Could make angels smile

He seems  geared
To be more loved
Than feared
And with better potential
For empathy than guile...

The Reluctant HouseHolder

I’m still wired

To those I have sired

And to those who

Have sired me

I am far from ready

And so my master

Does not appear

Art of Concealment

Fine clothes

Of current Fashion
Highlighted hair

Diamonds sparkle

In each dainty ear

Pssst...
They are 
But a crutch

For confidence 

She hasn't much.

Parkinson Calling '11

I play a game

with my mind

And turn an eye- blind

To the visiting tremor

and the frequent twitch

That I can no longer control

And no longer switch

One part my brain

Is right as rain

And over the one

That’s not

I am not

Distraught

I shall look through it so

Like through an old friend

Turned foe

Maturity

She felt proud

Each time

She stood out

In a crowd.

...Lost sleep

In relentless bitterness

When paid less attention

In a group

Out of her league

Light light
Feather light
So it once was
her character..

Nobody's Friend '00

With consistent passion
I criticize
This part of the world
To that one
And that one
To this
And in this simple manner
I release
My animosity
Towards both