boy of eighteen driving a restless volkswagen
riding the hot clutch at kellogg street and grand
finding cool music by santana on the tune dex
finding tanned chicks in bikinis riding stingrays
riding cool like cats cruising for cheeseburgers
blond surfer chicks wearing beads from mexico
hitchhiking at noon for a ride to San Bernardino
bumming cigarettes with cleavages and lipstick
seeking bootleg kisses in the front seat of a ford
rapping stories about the rolling stones concert
talking tales of fuzz box nookie in the parking lot
boy of eighteen cruising the big circle in corona
riding the hot clutch at kellogg street and grand
Cheeks were meant for kissing
Hands were meant for holding
Ears were meant for listening
Arms were meant for enfolding
Eyes were meant for ogling
Mouths were meant for stuffing
Hair was meant for brushing
Cheeks were meant for blushing
Minds were for manipulating
Knees were meant for kneeling
Bums were meant for bumming around
Thoughts for disagreeing
Feet were meant for walking
Palms were for reading the future
Toes were meant for counting
Common sense is for avoiding bloopers
Tongues were meant for wagging
Sores were meant for rubbing
Eyebrows were meant for raising
But hearts my very very good friends
Hearts were meant for loving
Cheeks were meant for kissing
Hands were meant for holding
Ears were meant for listening
Arms were meant for folding
Eyes were meant for ogling
Mouths were meant for stuffing
Hair was meant for brushing
Cheeks were meant for blushing
Minds were for manipulating
Knees were meant for kneeling
Bums for bumming around
Thoughts for disagreeing
Feet were meant for walking
Palms were for reading the future
Toes were meant for counting
Common sense to avoid bloopers
Tongues were meant for wagging
Sores were meant for rubbing
Eyebrows were meant for raising
But hearts my very good friends
Hearts were meant for loving
Cheeks were meant for kissing
Hands were meant for holding
Ears were meant for listening
Arms were meant for enfolding
Eyes were meant for ogling
Mouths were meant for stuffing
Hair was meant for brushing
Cheeks were meant for blushing
Minds were for manipulating
Knees were meant for kneeling
Bums were meant for bumming around
Thoughts for disagreeing
Feet were meant for walking
Palms were for reading the future
Toes were meant for counting
Common sense is for avoiding bloopers
Tongues were meant for wagging
Sores were meant for rubbing
Eyebrows were meant for raising
But hearts my very very good friends
Hearts were meant for loving
In the midst of myself I see all a named through a blame of crystal ball garbage self imposed heaps of anarchic monumental fever itches slowly coalescing compost inflaming frolicking one step beyond destitute drowned drained primal ascents like muted strands of character counts contents--a sugary benign bene-violence renewed every 4th year by death trite trickery, bumming freedoms long necked, sticky fingered bullet borrowed Bogart abandoners like cool coup indifferentials-----hangless gyrations coordinated catastrophizes counter culture aberrations seeming short changed a dimes worth of democracy voices foot and mouth disease we move through dead brain catheters dreaming of cellular open ranges of slack composures minus politico contractual ill tongued bilateral lobotomy laden binormals laying waste to unsecured raptures---dicey yet decidedly temporary but elipticaliplapsing any Gods forgiving truth and moral divergence by appetite arbitration. Hence a gamely time of fecal folly foot loose and fancy toe tag free---------all's well that entrails well.
Daughters had diverse ideas for sure
They both thought theirs was absolutely pure
One emphatically thought leader was the second coming
Other saw anti-Christ, out-of-control loser who is bumming.
At the end of a particularly unkind day
They both were angry having had their say
Neither speaking now, their divided thinking far apart
This dictator has torn their family and country apart.
A tiny runt who cannot run,
mom kicked me out because I limp.
The big dogs call me dumb, a gimp,
off-beat orphan, claimed by no one.
A Mowgli bumming all around,
Where is that warmer welcome mat?
there sits Bagheera, mama cat;
a foundling's hope perhaps is found.
She takes me in with her own kits;
they share and care for me at last.
Not long and I forget my past;
my name escapes the dog obits.
October 5, 2020
Sponsor: nette onclaud
Contest: In Praise of the Ode
Theme: # 3. About an Orphan
When the snails had zoomed passed the finish line,
When all that I owned, were no longer mine,
When they had taken my habits away,
When they stopped calling me gramps and say hey,
When I'm second fiddle caused by humming,
When ask "pass the salt", they think I'm bumming,
When sleep laying, sit or stand, I'm a putz,
When crunch my food, they say its teeth, not nuts,
When babies see pampers and yours they steal,
When butterflies fight could be your last meal
When hand points to lettered eye chart, what chart,
When old hits you, it aims for the best part.
Date: 08/29/2019
i spoke too soon.
my heart, my moon
turned their back
with the sunrise.
a new day
in a different light,
clear as day
you are no longer in sight.
have i been feeding
this disinterest
with all i can't seem
to put to rest?
maybe this time
i can learn to walk away
before you find
the right words to say
this isn't what you wanted.
it's just not there.
the communication
and the admiration,
it's just not there
and you're bumming me out.
everything truly is a cycle.
i'm wading in the water
and you're walking off the beach.
yes, the sunset is beautiful
but who the cares
when all that comes after
is darkness?
walking back, cold and damp,
i reach out for your hand
but it just falls through,
it doesn't land.
i make it home, regardless.
and i switch on the lamp
and for a second
i can see your shadow
still flickering
so i run to what isn't there.
soon to realize i am alone,
left with the reminder
that love is seldom fair.
Bumming Around for a Bum
We were bumming around for a nitwit bum
When we found Trump who had been from,
Could not count;
To nothing amount;
Mum was word so did turn out to be dumb.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran
Jim Horn
I spy you standing in the shadows cast
by a flashing neon sign, bumming a smoke,
with your nose dripping as it does on coke;
your pale skin and red hair in sharp contrast.
And you're ogled by shady men you've asked
for a smoke, even some hippy type bloke
who tries to convince you to take a toke.
You didn't recognize me as I passed.
Like a silhouette inked by the darkness,
you are framed by flashing colored lights,
and so drunk, three times you had to hurl.
This alley holds an aura of starkness
and although I know all about your rights,
I won't walk away; you're my baby girl!
(Italian Sonnet)
8/8/2018
Cheeks were meant for kissing
Hands were meant for holding
Ears were meant for listening
Arms were meant for enfolding
Eyes were meant for ogling
Mouths were meant for stuffing
Hair was meant for brushing
Cheeks were meant for blushing
Minds were for manipulating
Knees were meant for kneeling
Bums were for bumming around
Thoughts for disagreeing
Feet were meant for walking
Palms were for reading the future
Toes were meant for counting
Common sense for avoiding bloopers
Tongues were meant for wagging
Sores were meant for rubbing
Eyebrows were meant for raising
But hearts my very good friends
Hearts were meant for loving
Seagulls Take Flight
Rose strolled alone on a warm sandy beach
as salty sea foamy waves crept to reach
net her toes as the wind rose
She Jump from getting wet toes
instead fell back on her butt with a screech
Beach bumming seagulls came flying around
while Rose sat embarrassed on the wet ground
Plop! Whitewash flopped on her head
then up to the air they fled
flapping, squawking, with snapping hungry sounds
4/27/2017
Around Was Bumming
For a while around have been bumming
While horrible song he started humming;
May soon be crucified,
For each time that I lied;
Intelligence level was zero after up summing.
Jim Horn
Been down, been out, so what's new champ?
Nothing but these same old scars of empty dreams,
So when's your sun gonna rise from these ashes brother,
Cut the song, kill this tape, bumming my kozmic vibes,
When it's said an' done, you're lost in everlasting excuse,
Gotta pull that rope, chase this hope, put on that yoke,
Of self presentation to the masses through this choked voice,
My hand's out, but not for cash; your prayers' rollin' down,
Crack my skull into motion on this empty street heading out of Eden,
Ya know; I'm Cain's son, but i ain't losin' face, i'm runnin' this race,
At night under neon, mixing these harmonies in time with the beat of the world,
Yeah, I'm a nobody; nobody you ever gonna forget when I put this melodic strain in
your brain,
Cut these tracks like cuttin' teeth, take a bite son an get the taste for success,
Gotta get lyrical, spiritual, cause fear is all that's standin' in your path of that new
day comin',
Waken thine soul in fiery passions anew, and hit the streets with your hustle and
drive,
And don't forget the flow on the side.
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