“Someone To Call Home” by L. K. Thayer

let’s start with my phobia
about opening the mailbox
I don’t want to go there
they all want something
I haven’t got
I’m not even close
to their demands
the stuffed shirts
pen and paper pushers
weed wackers
and pawn brokers
I pretend when I pass the mailbox
that it’s an old lover
an old love affair
that I’d rather bury
under the carpet
because the magic is gone
don’t tap me on the shoulder
cause I’m tapped out
leave me alone to shred my peace
I don’t want to share
my particular blend of insanity with you
it’ll cost you
it cost me plenty
just to keep a lid on things
to not wanna kill somebody
to not wanna kill myself
to not wanna annihilate
my neighbor cause his
TV is too loud and he doesn’t give a shit
that his commercials are polluting my airspace
I don’t want to suck up anymore
or suck it down
life sucks enough
without the constant search
for a nipple to latch onto
looking for some kind of
attachment
some kind of nourishment
something to call love
something to call home
someone to spoon with
when the cupboard is bare

L. K. Thayer

© 2011

“His Mermaid Dame” by L. K. Thayer

surrender inhibitions to the wind
my enigmatic lover coos
melting sealing wax on envelopes
what does one have to lose

a petal pusher of fine silk
quilting threads once quite bare
a blushing grape, a winery
squeezing all my wicked wares

he’s my tailor and my sailor
my ship and anchor too
I’ll set sail at once upon the sea
his mermaid dame to woo

a passion play of trickery
plunging into deep desires
bathing luxury of wryest wit
and red hot molten fires

be gone the dowdiness of blue
a shade I no longer care to wear
a citrus orange or tangerine
perhaps they’ll stop and stare

my reflection is a shining star
jumping off the pearly moon
gliding across the milky way
whistling a snappy tune

no longer in a sea of glib
a rainbow coat I’ll knit
if I can be your ever last
and you can be my grit

for lovers on a ship set sail
in passions murky waters
we’ll be on course for ever more
creating sons and daughters

L. K. Thayer’s Foto Fetish

© 2010

To The Muse…

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“Give me leave, Muse, in plain view to array

Your shift and bodice by the light of day.

I would have brought an epic. Be not vexed

Instead to grace a niggling schoolroom text;

Let down your sanction, help me to oblige

Him who would lead fresh devots to your liege,

And your alter, grant that in a flash

They, he and I know incense from dead ash.”

X. J. Kennedy

Happy “Muse” Year from The Juice Bar!!

Kiwi

We love you, artists, writers, shutter bugs, jitter bugs, mugs, thugs, socialites, loners, moaners,

lion tamers, piano players, tightrope walkers, bellyachers, vampires, voo doo dolls &

voo doo daddies, misfits, violin players, gypsies, drama queens, rock climbers, graffiti artists, glass blowers, brick layers, sooth sayers, cake bakers, suzy-homemakers, rock n rollers, bowlers, arm wrestlers, gate crashers, myth bashers, cynics, mimics, clowns, jugglers, under dogs, smugglers, grifters, paupers, pilots, co-pilots, tramps, vamps, champs, do-si-do-ers & do-gooders, frogs, princes, pen pals

& poets!!! 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂

HAVE A JUICY NEW YEAR AND THANKS FOR SQUEEZING THE JUICE BAR!!!

L. K. Thayer

All Rights Reserved

© 2009

“American Idol” by Vicki Batkin

Photo by Alexis Rhone Fancher

My rock goddess will never die
I see her flying into dense fog
Just to make the show.

She’s footloose and fancy-free
With a hint of Tabasco
And she will take no prisoners.

She prances around with greatness
While her followers trail behind
Blinded by her scent

She is my secret pal
And my one true song.

Yes, my one true song.
Shhh…I wrote the lyrics.

Vicki Batkin

All Rights Reserved

© 2009