Winterberry Gardens: A Gathering Space for Writers: Needed Emptiness

Winterberry Gardens: A Gathering Space for Writers:

Thought I would post with some of my older and...more "morbid" poetry. As a way of explanation I have struggled on and off with depression, and often my work reflects this obsession with the dark side of our psyche. I think I listened too much as a child to Tom Lehrer O'Lear with such funny songs as "Posioning Pidgeons In the Park" Check it out on youtube.com. I wrote this peice back in the early 80's when condo's and co op's where becoming popular. I wanted to convy the aloneness a person could experience even in the midst of many people. Hope you enjoy the "tongue in cheek!"

Something is Rotting in Chalet #5

Something is rotting in Chalet #5.
She's been there since Tuesday at quater to nine
Today it is Sunday and five days away
she loses her eyeballs as the world goes to pray.
The postman doesn''t notice
that the letters go unread.
The newsboy doesn't know
that the occupant is dead.
Old Mr. Cramer thought he smelled something "fishy"
while walking the dog, or, so he told biker Richie,
who coasts by her window each morning
Richie said he hadn't seen anything alarming
except that she used to sing every day
but had stopped...but that wasn't strange -
he thought singing "ODD' anyway...

The day Sally's meat pulled away from the bone
The lover cursed "bitch ! She won't answer the phone!"
It's a good thing the central air keeps down the bugs,
but it looks like this spells the end for the rugs.

The whole world goes on like it hasn't a care,
that the next thing she'll lose is her nails and her hair.

On June 23rd the rent's way overdue
and someone will come banging at quater to two.
He'll quick get impatient
cause the car's in the yard
and he hates collecting money when the tenants make it hard -
So he'll reach for the keys
on his black leather belt
and he'll wonder if it was garbage in the air he just smelt!
Then he'll gasp as he shoves the door roughly aside
and poor Sally Ridgfeild will have no place to hide.
She'll greet him warmly with a fleshless grin
and pay him with maggots as he stubbles in.