TO SEPARATE US
GET US OFF CANADA BUS
THEY JUST FUSS AND CUSS
Forever
fighting for existence,
always
reaching for more.
Good is never enough.
Only perfection
will do.
So many break
beneath the burden,
reaching
for what
they cannot hold.
Show them
the ladder,
the door
half-open,
the path
toward light.
Until they believe
they can rise,
they keep
slipping.
I’d rather lead a wagon train over
Donner Pass in the heart of cold winter
than take a chance on cherubic Cupid’s
insipid arrow; does X really mark
the spot, and is the promise of true love
such a treasure?
A lifetime of love letters burns easy
in the fires of infidelity,
and the discovery of trickery
will cause a lass to never again say
it’s love or bust!
Love or bust is for me,
no more sadness or I will flee.
People need to be free,
that is the key.
To fly like a big yellow bee,
in the blue sky is my plea.
Love or bust is for me,
let go and be carefree.
Paint with pretty paints the sea,
paint with your words a big oak tree.
Now enjoy love with a hot cup of rose tea.
Look in my eyes what do you see
Onyx skies or blue sea
Vision of love dipped in reality
Emerald touch that ravishes me
Orange sun that rolls downhill
Red moon that inspires me to feel
Bright optimism swallowed like pill
Universal love a licorice thrill
Satin sheets that feel like cloud
Tender touches making us shout
Me – Irish catlick working class:
mantillas, martyrs, Maynooth, Mass.
You – a literal Lutheran lass,
all pretzels, prenups, Mama Cass.
It never could have ever worked:
those ambiguities that lurked
were knees that, one day, would have jerked,
and we’d have wound up Douglas Sirked.
Your Nancy Clutter beats my Holden
(less Marlon Brando, more Karl Malden).
The pond we’re on was never golden –
winter white-out wiped out Walden.
I would have wearied of your sermons,
short Sheridans and shallow Shermans,
your Sophie Tuckers, Ethel Mermans,
poe-faced Pennsylvania Germans.
Ignore the stranger on the shore,
by Stan and Stella set no store.
Don’t give a damn what Della wore,
or Mary Tyler any more.
I know you can groove
but I wanna see you
dance
i wanna see you dance
I wanna see you dance
Dance
Dance
Dance for me.....
---------------------------------------
It all depends
and those who
so evers
and whats going on
and who's deemed clever
taken in account to
the calender
your plans and mine
and to what
each prefers
it al depends
it all depends
Giving consideration
to your cumstance
I'm opened to agreeing
dancers need preparation
lyrics need beleiving
it all depends
how the music takes it's
groove
whether they wanna shuck
and jive
or the people wanna
party and groove
it all depends
it just all depends
shoo be doo whop bop
skit doo be dooy
ah uh ooh we
doo be do be
shoo be doo woop woop
ah doo we doo we
ah doo we do ah
ah shoo be doo we
It all depends
in such consideration
what are we doing
what are saying
what's the rules
to what obligations
it all depends
it just all depends
There was a girl named Trina
She was a Pearl thin ballerina
Then she ate
Chocolate cake
Her thighs are no longer leaner
Lamenting over you
Infatuated by rue...
It rang true
the day i met u,,,
Wut ive been thru
Wasn,t cuz of u
I,v,e been blue
Haven't a clue
Flippin a, Y must I break?
I wont dooo it for ur sake
u 2? i beg 2 differ
if you luv me any bigger
creative n logic...
emotional and epic!
confidence
in
my
stride
and
on
my
side,
but
you
refuse
to
see
what
lies
in
the
present...moment,,,
how absurd…an owl,
wearing a night cap…the fowl
an audience howl
owl downs his liquor
his entertainment slicker
audience snicker
in midst, a jeerer
a foul audience nearer
here comes the sheerer
this owl on huge bough
seriously satisfied
resting one big eye
trees have been silenced
feathers like Autumn leaves float
owl is on retreat
owl dreams as bough shakes
he’s trying out sick routine
laughing to himself
Take the plunge..As I have before, try your friends..
Just to be sure.' Give them truth..Support' some trust
Then wait and see.' Expecting no love, or hate..that fire.'
For it might flare? Their will exposed, in steeped despair?
Who knows the spirit of humans? Deep to core? but one.!
The Great I Am, within deep seas we can't escape him
He's traced each wrinkle, none can berate Him.' And
So I turn to my only Father, who has warned me often
I had allowed for rather..? Well a different speil or option'
Did it depend in part how i'd spun the wheel.? God is
True let all others be liars' add the crackle of thorns to
To call those before Him called..? God watches 'all people'
And
Maybe, wonders?
At much stupidity as yet; he stokes hells fire.'
when on table went bust
Horn Haiku I had to adjust
tell tale and into head thrust
God forbid what I did
was to act like a little kid
who had flipped his (her or their) lid.
when we had an urge
after there will be a surge
are required to purge
(did play a dirge)
(have to see a surge ((surgeon))
(erupt when we encourage)
(would disappear when we did discourage)
(prefer pizza with my porridge)
(when the bells would ringy
I did become dingy)
on side watched boat list
when my point you must have missed
would become an anarchist (anti-Christ)
would be weak and weary
God could made weather dreary
tune we should carry
(which would seem very scary)
(which may vary)
(when we quoted a query)
while God is great and pure
made us safe, sane and secure
life we can endure
(what we knew for sure)
(life can be a cure)
(destroyed by der Fehrer)
(we would take a tour)
(cooked meat on a skewer)
(saw on an auto Gravier)
It’s an amazing situation.
Came right out of the blue.
I had to pinch my arm to
Convince myself it’s true.
They want to film my novel,
Offered an amazing price,
No more nine to five drudgery
Which sounded so very nice.
Of course they’ve changed the
Location from Neasden to Japan
And my middle aged heroine has
Become a muscular action man.
It’s no longer a tale of
Strained domestic bliss
Now more a pot boiler about
International financial crisis.
They’re certainly wanting changes
To my more pedestrian plot,
And heaven only knows
How many characters get shot.
I gasped in amazement at
The suggested A list cast
Being a struggling new author
Certainly a thing of the past.
Yes they wanted to film my novel
But I’ve turned them down flat:
Rather nine to five drudgery than
Association with rubbish like that.
Goodbye dreams of riches
And back to the old rat race
But at least I’ll still be able
To look myself in the face.
Was a fine brunette, her name was Helen
She wanted round boobs, size of a melon
Schoolfriend Paris agreed
Milking Troy, for the deed
She got them hand reared, not by a felon
I'm joining Elon Musk
It's Mars or bust
If we don't make it
we become space dust
But no way that's in the cards
We'll get there, we try hard
As for the trip back ~
Er, perhaps you've a tip?
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