Best Citric Poems

Hear the clip-clop of iambic beats
Sounds like Shelley with a side of Keats
Is that the scritchity-scratch of a goose quill flickin’
Or just the tippity-tap of some mouse you clickin’..?

So you a prophet poet, regular Marley meets Dylan
Writin’ about oppression and unjust killin’
Shootin' the Sheriff with...

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i prepared a simple supper
but with great love i cooked 
that main meat of refined wheat
durum semolina, traded as rotini

an Italian pasta to go with beef, a grace
from a Canadian cow grazed in prairie grass,
spiced with herbs from the hunted tropics:
ginger, garlic, turmeric, and coriander

powdered,...

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I gave up breakfast
Not because I needed
To lose girth
Nor any extra
Avoirdupois

Nor because the time wasted
In feeding
Could have been better 
Used
To solve the problems of the
Universe

Not because the eggs 
Are high cholesterol
And the chicken sausage
Created from
Hapless victims in their 
Sharp metal cages
Who never knew a
Better life

I...

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There is a sour sound of lemons screaming
In a Venetian glass bowl on the sill 
Each citric fruit sees the sweet thief stealing
But all stand perfectly still...

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I know the land where the lemon- tree flowers,

I have seen it's pretty blooms

And it has the fresh clean scent of you,

I've seen the pretty lemon citric fruit,

I love it's taste and its flavour

In the same way that I love the taste of you,

You are...

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VIOLET, my passions so prescribed.
INDIGO, I follow her soul's desire.
BLUE, my companion so true to life.
GREEN, l am filled with envy.
YELLOW, the undignified distortions of life.
ORANGE, the bright citric passions in me.
RED, the depth of my Sincerity.

That's the rainbow of LOVE



12/4/2014...

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The world's a grand kaleidoscope
comprised of shuffled scenery.
It shares its everlasting grace
as we walk amongst its majesty.

Green geysers sprout from earthen springs
with herbal shards as ornaments.
The blossoms of the world parade
to the joy of floral increments.

Somewhere wet winds from sunken skies
are lapping at the copper...

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Horrendous Fruit

“Ah my eyes!” the acid sprays,
From the knobbly whorled display,
Of the thickened orange skin,
Pith and citric acid akin.

I take a bite of segmented fruit,
Cells explode and sour does too,
My eyes fall closed, My faces is scrunched,
As on the awful food I munch.

“One piece down!”...

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The Lorax is on top,
I wish it would stop.
All these bad and good memories,
of me and you.
The trees are all green,
and the water (like me) is blue.
The tree's tongues are tied,
and twisted,
searching for the place,
where the Lorax lifted.
If life give you lemons,
Well I guess you're...

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One of the guest star of the dazzling celebration
Stands in a white lace tablecloth decorated table
Colorful flowers serve as eye catching attraction
Watering the taste buds of the present guests

Vanilla and dark chocolate swirls in the first tier
Ripe strawberries fill the second tier with sweetness 
Lemon...

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Dewdrops stream down boisterous 
children’s freckle-strewn mischievous dials,
as they dash in cartoon costume faux denim
apparel amidst the pale yellow sunlight glare.
Marble stone button twiddle on a blue
rinse wrinkle t-shirt,
Sumptuous  ice cream raspberry blobs
tantalise the cheeky taste bud imps
whose chocolate brown eyes swell with
every morsel...

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Do not leave me ! -
I am repeating, as a prayer,
I dissolve, melt away in you,
Do not leave me !
Some ships go to a bottom somewhere, 
The storms and the hurricanes of a life are too abrupt 
But neither for one hour, nor for one...

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My little silver shooting star,
such energy you do possess:
A chilling, silky elegance, 
from you, I would expect no less.

You twirl about me gracefully,
illuming, as I lay you down.
The planets play a raggish tune
while diamonds jive about your gown.

My little white marionette,
oh are you meant to...

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If night had memory, you would be
Soaked in darkness, a refusal of light,
Imprinted permanently, a flower etched in
Snow. I caught your lunar lip in a
Orchard of arrived song. I hold you
As the darkness does. Without citric 
Borders or day lamed noise.
If night could shape you...

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Quince shaped houses landscape Julienned Street
where citric groans once molded a blue cheese night.  
In one home lives reclusive Graham and his wife, Coco,
two dilled, old pickles nervously living on the lamb.
Busted selling urine for addiction pee tests,
they agreed to flee from a legal...

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