A quiet one brimming with rising confidence
A boisterous one with a fear that is immense
When the moment is here
And the choice becomes clear
It is the quiet one shouting hold my beer in defense
Saw it coming
Started running
Through the woods
As fast as I could
Evil in the mist
Making sinister hiss
Sound
Translating freedom 'going down'
Beautiful mirage arrived
No fear of going to die
Equipped with answers
From club dancers
Chit chatting away
Screaming about pay
"Ammunition I will fire
Since you seemed to of tired
Do not fear
I have a long neck beer "
Siren made clear
I watched her work
Popped the bubbly cork
After expressing wedding vows
Complementing our moonlight howls
Saw it coming
Started running
Through woods
As fast as I could
Beautiful mirage arrived
Not going to die
Equipped with answers
From club dancers
"Do not fear
I have a long neck beer"
I watched her work
Popped the bubbly cork
After expressing wedding vows
Complementing our moonlight howls
_Scene: Sonia draws the line_
"Divorce me," she said, "and buy a richer woman."
"Frustrate you more," he replied.
"I've succeeded," she answered back.
"You've been rice hawker, beer parlor..."
"Stop this nonsense!"
Startled and amused by her distruption.
"Is it taxi driving you're supposed to be doing?"
"Look at yourself first."
"Do you have savings? Can you pay bills?"
"You're mad!"
"Don't call me mad.
Less than a month," she said.
"Then be gone."
Cab door slams.
Midnight bleeds.
Keys jingle like broken dreams.
“The night rider is back,” she sighs.
Beer breath fills that one room.
“Who?” she asks the ceiling.
“Useless woman,” he spits low.
Single bulb shows a man unmade.
Hand rises. Her eyes don’t move,
Fixed like a viper before its prey.
“I won’t back down, John.”
Pot hits floor.
Emptiness reverberates.
Days numbered, he growls.
She stands, it's sure.
Door turns to flag.
(Mt Bonaparte, July 4th)
Land of the free, home of the brave
Mt Bonaparte in the distance
With its mottled slopes of green
New Riders croon Robert Hunter songs
To the sound of a pedal steel
A cool breeze blows
Big fluffy white clouds
In procession across the open clear blue
Expanse of heaven
No red but what flows in our veins
Dogs laying in the shade of the Winnie
As contented as only dogs can be
While I soak it all in
The canned music, the mountain view,
The canine contentment
The liquid songs of Meadow Larks
And a breeze that blows all my troubles away
Might just be time for another IPA
Happy Birthday America!
(7/3/26)
Men get ideas.
They grow braided beards, brew beer.
Who can say what's next?
a beer, a boat, my babe
my babe, a beer, a boat
a boat, my babe, a beer
spirits high afloat
An ode to morning
Might the urges of night
Keep us entangled in
Our love affair
The snares of evening
that one claims their
desires in unashamed
want
That neither love or hate
defines truth
Such debate comes to
be heard with a doubtful
ear
Óde to me as you shall
have me yours
Neither poverty or wealth
Shall be éxcuse for our
togetherness
He wishes me merely
that I am with you
He longest me in spite of
You
Might night blanket the truth
Of our togetherness
that it is script of your undoings
Might the rightousness of
whoredums
Make me woman above all
Else.
Claria Minded Longings
From the book of Trickering Women
Published by
"Though then like me"
An inspiration to Male Madness
"He ain't even noticed"
Performed by
Hoochie and Dame Meanie
Ària Musica
Vhallez and Structure
Performed with permission
From Gett it and Ooh
From big city mußic co.
A fictious media group
Highest ratings ever Collaberation Co.
Delighted to be freed from the dark tide.
Spent decades keeping one breath above the water line.
Not sure if it released me or I broke free.
I'm on the beach for now, feeling heavenly.
Salt tickling skin in the warm gulf winds.
The frenzy of living reduced to a minimum.
The twisted cursing from black windows
Long lines filling with yellow sighs
Vampish phones sucking humanity dry.
For now, I'm free from the dark current, but it's never far away,
The devil's skiff cutting yellow horizons.
Think I'll build another sandcastle today.
.
az poe
mine think tip'd
over
((plop))
at thuh bar table
i hear'd one shouldn't
trust
boiler makerz
tap
Drink a beer, shed a tear, tremble in fear
For the good ‘ole US of A, my dear
Will Mamdani save us all
Or consign us to free fall
Lenin and Stalin both ready to cheer
Downs a gulp of beer
He treats us to another tall tale
Reviving the stuff of folklore
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Champagne and almas caviar taste
On a domestic beer and pretzel budget
Fortunately we have each other
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 1st place 2025
This concludes the trilogy that started as "The Frozen Sun" then continued as "Tonight Will Soon Be Over"".
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I was woken by the drum of dawn—
light dripping through half-closed blinds,
the air still dancing to the ghost of Afrobeats
from the previous night.
Broken bottles stood like headstones,
each shard ready to draw blood.
My shoes slept apart, still mismatched—
a quiet testimony to last night’s confusion.
His laughter lingered in the air—
not the man himself, only his echo,
wrapped in the smell of palmwine and beer.
The mirror betrayed me kindly:
smudged lipstick, bruised tummy—
a woman reborn from quieted chaos,
half-ashamed, half-amused.
I gathered myself like scattered beads,
threading regrets through memory.
Somewhere between guilt and grief,
I found a strange calm—
as if the frozen sun had melted at last,
and warmth returned without a sound.
Outside, street hawkers broke the silence
that wasn’t silent,
their voices humming through the Sunday haze.
I stepped out barefoot,
hoping the earth would forgive
my drunken feet.
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