Surfing, morphing
Through amorous tidal waves
Thou Babylonian scoundrels
Poisoned, ordained
By the blues-begging rasps
Smelting Earth
Caching together as one
By force and virtue
Yielding life's battalions
Seeking solace, fame or gentle ears
What captures me most
About this glazed nuthouse
Riffs and thieves
Throwing down as NYC
The brackish drama
The ink-still-wet climax
Each protagonist
Twitching, bleeding
Their calligraphy carved from
Medieval, spiteful bent
Their tragedies, comedies
Levitating into series finales
Bubbling, screaming
The concrete-clicking pounce
Propelled by the fear of instant death
Each a Willie
Scribes scratching, staggering
Desperate for terminal legacy
Actors drowning, emitting spasms
Powered by flames and sunshine
You don't get here by mistake
Unless leaving is the answer
The acts, verses and curses
Vary by the levels of lunacy
You're willing to consume
So bark and hark
Who goes there
The parade inside you looms
As the audience
Hush, attentive, sardonic
Mouths gaping
Tongues wagging
To taste your wasted drop.
(10/13/16)
Categories:
caching, allusion, appreciation, character, crazy,
Form: Free verse
Infected By The 'Bug'
Thanks to ItsSpitting,
I’ve started caching
Come wind, rain or shine
Getting out no matter what,
Walking here and there
During the day, or even in the dark
With ItsSpitting and Sprite our Geohound
From cycle paths to muddy tracks
And water filled lanes,
Geocaching is in my blood
And until the bug does one
It’s caching all the way!
Categories:
caching, funny, weather,
Form: Free verse
The clock tolls five on a Monday morning,
and my lover is swimming along,
caching his breath between strokes.
He glides threw the water.
Ding dong, Ding dong, the clock tolls.
My Lover is swimming on a Monday morning.
The clock tolls eight on a Monday morning,
and my lover is walking to class,
to learn of ideas and equations.
Ding dong, Ding dong, the clock tolls.
My lover is learning on a Monday morning.
The clock tolls ten on a Monday morning,
and my lover is sining a song.
He sings to me a song of love, though I am not there to hear it.
Ding dong, Ding dong, the clock tolls.
My lover is singing on a Monday morning.
The clock tolls four, it is no longer morning,
and my lover is thinking of me.
He wonders on what the future hold,
hoping everything will be gay.
Ding dong, Ding dong, the clock tolls.
My lover is thinking of me.
The clock tolls eight, the day is out,
and my lover is sitting with me.
We are holding hands, and we are happy.
Ding dong, Ding dong, the clock tolls.
My lover and I are sitting together,
My hand in his, and his in mine,
never to part, never to end.
Ding dong, Ding dong, the clock tolls.
Categories:
caching, love,
Form: Ballad
Like whirlwind among autumn leaves
Like spring full of cloverleaves
Like web caching cool summer breeze that spider weaves
Like a silver rose of frost in winter with light forming colors soul disbelieves
Like amber colored magnified cells
Like divine spells
Like a story seaman tales
Like power that very devil excels
Like an ocean abyss so vast
Like clipper ships sail on the mast
Like a shadow that sun itself would cast
Like a ballad that forever will last
Like mesmerizing eagle or angel wings
Like armor of king of kings
Like a song nightingale sings above mountain springs
That is the glory beyond continuum of soul looking at destiny chasm that southern wind brings
Categories:
caching, fantasy,
Form: Rhyme
Click, click, click.
There it goes again.
That horrid tick.
It's louder than the rain.
Here I sit by the fire
Hoping to enjoy a good book.
But no, she feels the need to inspire
With words of wisdom and strategic rooks.
Zip, the sound of the paper being pulled out, bounces down the hall.
Click, click, click. Caching.
I wish that roller would come loose and fall.
Ow, my head is aching.
Silence! Is she done? Can I blink?
No, she threw the paper in the waste bin, which made a loud thud.
That thing is so loud I can't hear myself think.
Oh, how I just want to throw it in the mud.
5-9-13
Categories:
caching, writing,
Form: Rhyme