Francie Lynch Poems

There's a Revolution coming,
The boots are on the streets;
It's calling from the graves,
We're stirring from our sleep.
...

The younger sister
Of the second wife
Of my dear friend
Of forty-five years
...

... still Laughing
I was told Goody's gonna die Sunday.
It's Nascar Weedkend,
Now Thanksgiving will never be the same.
...

I don't know destitute.
I could use the bathrooms
In McDonalds,
If I eat there.
...

My poem is my true selfie,
An X-ray of the inner me,
A snap-shot of reality,
A close-up of what's really me,
...

We lived
In our Goodwill bathing suits
During our arduous summer isolation
From school and friends.
...

Dark at day,
Light at night,
Chaos mocks us
With villainous smiles.
...

There were four high pines, straight, that branched out

over the hedge with holes.
...

The lads
Are streaming porn.
Don't be too quick
To scorn;
...

The ravens survey
The gated community,
Scouring for a meal.
They swoop low,
...