Come one, come all, to the grand affair!
The emperor sells his finest robes bare!
After a child called out: "He has no clothes"
What would the crowd bid for those?
The emperor beamed, modelling his finest gown.
Woven in gold thread, with jewels all around.
Silks and satins, woven with skill in fancy seams,
To be auctioned off, as the suit of his dreams.
The crowd cheered, adoring his gall and pride,
While hiding their giggles and snickers aside.
“Such courage!” they cried with a mischievous grin,
To auction off his birthday suit he was born in!
The auctioneer cried: "Now come on what is bid"
For the world finest, in invisible clothes hid.
For these Emperor clothes are fit for a King!
Who knows what fame and fortune they will bring?
The room ignited, the bidding went wild,
As emperor posed, smiled; he was so beguiled!
"Sold!" cried the auctioneer, banging his hammer,
To the nudist, wearing his pride with such glamour.
Autumn Orgy at Trump Resorts
Promises virile indoor sports
But what will they find
On Donald Trump's mind
After they auction off his shorts?
One last look - deep in the furrow of my palm
Identifies the See not as holy - yet
My cathedra, from which I bounce off into the night
Above an anvil cloud spreading my wings like a jet
Off to a good star, I hear - in flight!
This ship does not dock at the wharf
In the shape of a dog’s heart
It does not matter - I am not a giant or a dwarf
Nor am I naïve or smart.
This little quail curled up in mistrust
Relentlessly pursuing an ideal of her dream,
I don’t auction off my heart, even if I am bust
I walk against the currents of my life –up-stream.
I will forgive you everything in a droplet called –tear,
As it is rolling down the cheek of a swan
Holding onto what is very, very dear,
Considering you nothing but the only life photon.
As if I have methodically defiled love
While sitting on the last seat of an empty tram
That is taking me into the night with a ripped glove
A window and my image in it –I see clam.
At about two and a half minutes into ascent
I have learned to hold my breath
And yet I cannot escape this mental bend so pent
Created in the bloodbath to soothe the virginity of death.
If I be the future,
where do I leave the past?
All that these old eyes have seen
and weathered ears have screamed;
A mind that has gathered its rage.
A heart that has harbored its hate;
The white man with a black belt
that never kept anything up,
serving only to keep me down.
Of words and hands, too harshly felt;
The shadows of feet--
from oak trees, still swinging.
The fear of sheets that silently shift
on soundless Mississippi nights;
How do I sleep on cotton
and not feel the sting of its sweat?
Will you now give me a silken box
to bury all along with me?
Will I suffocate
under its weight forever?
While you shovel light onto darkness,
looking for absolution--
in the blending.
Will you auction off my memories,
like tiny babies
so they can grow up without any;
How can I be the mother of the future,
when I am already a daughter
of the past?
And how will my sons come to forgive,
when their mother can never ever--
let them forget…
Acceptable Food
The eye is never sure of his food so anyway they say there is limits to what a man
can have they don’t want crumbly things so today I’m typing with a banana to
illustrate the rules have never changed the popcorn made inside the theater box
can be bought but never brought from home away with the poor boy bum that
lives at home and carries some to theater to love. We want people to buy corn so
salty that they cry for more and auction off the ranch to buy a coke so watered
down to taste as to be tasteless to a boy who cannot afford them at the prices the
RIALTO charges.
The syrup sticks to the sticking floor from a mop that never can be cleaned or
handled wielded not with love but working now for money and decay and crud.
The popcorn that eye have is simply jaded lost in time.
The cokes have all gone flat. There is a clear limit to my love the eye is not like
that. The banana is too green for the mee to eat just yet. The word typing in this
text was typed on the keyboard with a very hard and green banana thing. Accept.
I once got twisted up in my own fate
A pound of crystal I did create
The police used their cash as bait
I jumped on it just couldn't wait
I went to jail until my court date
The Judge rounded the years to eight
Then he said this is no debate
And ordered to auction off my estate
Now I'm not one to recriminate
But all I owned they did desecrate
They loaded me in a bus and drove me to state
Locked me up inside a prison gate
There I proved its never to late
And learned how to live my life straight
Now I live here with my mate
Who taught me to let go of all my hate
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