My Mess

by James von Dielingen

"Your place is a mess!" so says my Mom 

and others that come by my pad.

They say the lack of cleaner rooms 

is the only problem they had.

I say the problem runs deeper still,

to a complete lack of understanding.

They do not see just why my rooms

are covered in stacks, piles, and strandings.

There's method to my untidiness,

a reason for my mess

that very few are privy to, 

and those that know are blessed.

It's time that dictates all you see.

The clock keeps ticking on.

For Mary knew, and I do too;

it's here and then it's gone

I know just where to find my things,

each pen and pencil set;

each gas receipt and bill to pay;

each daily news gazette.

The more and more that I can keep

right out in my plain sight,

the less I have to organize;

and I waste less time each night.

I've heard that, next to godliness,

cleanliness is king.

I've always felt God wouldn't mind

My time used on other things.

For some a clean house is a blessing,

something we all should embrace.

If that's the case then next time

We'll hang out at your place.

Constance Olivia Strump

by James von Dielingen

Constance Olivia Strump

Lived in a horrible dump.

She attempted a while to live life in style.

She found it a pain in her rump.

Strump's house was covered in litter. 

She decided the trash didn't fit her

New lifestyle of glam, of pâté and lamb,

The garbage it made her quite bitter.

Her messiness covered the floor,

From the back to the entrance door.

The wrappers and peels, the sneakers and heels

Obscured the Art Deco decor.

The kitchen was buried in food,

In prunes half-eaten and stewed,

In crumbs by the scores, and apple-y cores,

And remnants too gross to include.

The den was the best of the rooms,

But still made you sick from the fumes

Of rotting decay from a year-old bouquet

And the greenest of mildew-y blooms.

An excess of garment displacement

Was located down in the basement,

Where socks and hose and other such clothes

Were in desperate need of replacement.

Her dining room looked like a stable.

To sit down and eat, you weren’t able.

The place was concealed by the fat that congealed 

To her great grandma's dining room table.

Constance Strump tried her best to clean

Her house to a beautiful sheen.

Work filled her with dread, so she chose to instead

Pack up and move somewhere green.

So, before long all of her rooms

Were emptied and swept up by brooms

From all of her neighbors who chipped in their labors

In all but her scary bathrooms.

Those living near her abode

Were glad she was hitting the road.

The soon vacant lot would surely be bought

By someone who'd keep the lawn mowed.

But, much to the neighbors' dismay,

Ms. Strump decided to stay.

"How can I leave when what I perceive

Are you people who've helped me this day!"

"Since we have cleaned up my gear,

I might as well just remain here!

I don't need to improve by an expensive move!

We'll just do this again next year!"