poems this mine here else often lists
economical text much inferred
few words fewer articles prepositions conjunctions sometimes needed
rhymes or not
short but slowing fast world trick make think
visual poems stolen cummings
is new question un marked re able
s pa
ce s
runonswhereeveryfit together
i don't know how you know
it's yours now
maybe makes much sense war
98% genocide
rev wright was right
possible not since rexulti
kill bear with ukraine cannon fodder
so iran can't stop merrikkael turning gaza
gehenna turning resort luxury hotels casinos
offshore oil rigs election want blame drumpf
but have zero credibility ever after praising president credit cards and truancy warden
go ahead watch strait hormuz raise inflation
like when merrika blew nordstream blame other monster
poems this mine here else often lists
economical text much inferred
few words fewer articles prepositions conjunctions sometimes needed
rhymes or not
short but slowing fast world trick make think
visual poems stolen cummings
is new question un marked re able
s pa
ce s
runonswhereeveryfit together
i don't know how you know
it's yours now
maybe makes much sense war
98% genocide
rev wright was right
possible not since rexulti
kill bear with ukraine cannon fodder
so iran can't stop merrikkael turning gaza
gehenna turning resort luxury hotels casinos
offshore oil rigs election want blame drumpf
but have zero credibility ever after praising president credit cards and truancy warden
go ahead watch strait hormuz raise inflation
like when merrika blew nordstream blame other monster
The partition
Here in this landscape of bushes and crippled trees
the grotesque peace of daylight ghosts
Grey boughs stretching upward appeal to
a soundless god.
“Give us today a new life.” There is only one deity
The almighty one, who goes by the name Silvanus.
Those who do not understand this are doomed to
a life of empty pursuit of pleasures.
In nightclubs and casinos, people are trying
not to be alone in the night and face the truth
In a black frame, seeing you seeing through you
and into an ever-expanding void.
Doggone it, I used to make a killin' at casinos,
R o l l i n g sevens; killing em' all softly
The way The Rolling Stones kill it on the stage.
Brimming with confidence, I made my way back,
But my Tumblin Dice came up snake eyes.
"Angie," my so-called "Lady Luck" betrays me.
Whenever I peek through a window of
Golden opportunity, you bet she'll Paint It Black.
She frowns at me, and loves to remind me,
"You Can't Always Get What You Want."
She coldly snatches glory Under My Thumb.
She tells me my chances of recapturing
My lost mojo are as good as riding Wild Horses.
Across the open Appalachian badlands,
Or picking up Honky Tonk Women at
My local Ruby Tuesday restaurant. Gee, thanks!
The division
Here in this landscape of bushes and crippled trees
the grotesque peace of daylight ghosts
grey boughs stretching upward appeal to a soundless god.
“Give us today a new life.” There is only one deity
the almighty one, go under the name of Silvanus.
Those who do not understand this are doomed to
a life of empty pursuit of pleasures.
Crowded nightclubs and casinos, people trying not to be alone
in the night and face the truth
we are mortals and infrequently remembered as a photo
a black frame, seeing you, seeing through
you and into an ever-expanding void.
The big green ones are everywhere,
next exit in half-a-mile,
they seem almost reassuring,
all done up in the same style.
Then smaller ones bordered in blue,
with promises of food to eat,
the big chains and local diners,
places to stop and take a seat,
then more such signs with the same look,
but this time it’s lodging and gas,
don’t really need a place to sleep,
though I could really use some snacks…
A small sign with a stadium
for the minor league hockey team,
there’s rumors they might move next year,
happens every decade, it seems.
And then there is a really big sign,
it stands tall in a farmer’s field,
hawking Indian casinos,
with their fantastic weekend deals.
ever so often, by exits,
I see symbols on a high pole,
visible near a mile off,
telling me here burgers and sold.
And sadly, there’s a blinking sign,
a warning to slow for road crews,
it never fails, they’re always out
when I have got something to do.
Throughout our lives, Dad and I have done many things together.
From coloring books to fishing, from wiffleball to hardball
To tune-ups on secondhand cars, casinos, and funerals.
In the parking lot after one particularly salty service:
Dad and I ended up holding a pair of funeral vases
The eulogist barked, "Don't forget to pour out the water".
Side by side and on cue,
Dad and I clownishly poured the flower water
onto the funeral home parking lot.
The water hit with a surprisingly cartoonish smack...
Getting our shoes soaking wet. We both laughed, then said our goodbyes.
I like to think Brother Angel was giggling with us, once again.
Writing is a gamble
we put in our words,
pull the slot
and read back our
cherries and lemons --
the object is to publish
our addiction
to connect with a reader
our casinos, the clan-forums
of acceptance and rejection
The poet
(excluding the jingle writer) --
least paid-out of all
literary devotionals --
priest and parishioner of countrysides
and hearts, secretly, vainly wonders
if his life’s refrain
but another of man’s many dear epitaphs
summaries in stone
unweeded
and forgotten --
Donning splendiferous landscapes stretching for miles,
A culture that aptly prides, in bold, welcoming smiles;
A thriving land of islands~ an archipelago evincing awe,
A resplendence of nature, an exclamation of hurrah.
Sandy beaches embrace realms of pristine coastline,
Harboring lush foliage, embodying sublimity divine,
Of marine life, corals, reveling warmth of idyllic clime,
Reminiscent of paradise, of placidity, stilled in time.
Fun loving, amiable, proud tradition extolling grace,
Quaint, yet modern, is the vibrant vibe of this place;
Of museums, antiques, art galleries, buzzing cafe,
Of hotels, casinos, of famed sunsets on Manila Bay.
Luzon, the Visayas, Mindanao~ gems of the blue sea,
Living in tranquility, projecting utter beauty and glee;
Islands of hospitality, homeland of a privileged few,
A magnificent portrait, upon sea-canvas nature drew.
Philippines~ an acclaimed, lauded, pearl of the Orient,
Rich in diverse culture, her allure citizens augment,
Pulsating rhythms of hearts and souls, worthy of praise;
A treasure preserved, revered since the ancient days.
Governor JB Pritzker's rightly proud of his home state
The latest statistics all show we're doing great
While we lead the country in residents fleeing
That's not all that we should be seeing...
For Illinois' top businesses are all growing
Cannabis, Casinos, Violent Crime
In fact, we've reaped what we've been sowing
Our student population can't read, write
~ or calculate worth one thin dime
The partition
Here in this landscape of bushes and crippled trees
the grotesque peace of daylight ghosts
Grey boughs stretching upward appeal to
a soundless god.
“Give us today a new life.” There is only one deity
the almighty one goes under the name of Silvanus.
Those who do not understand this are doomed to
a life of empty pursuit of pleasures.
Nightclubs and casinos, people trying
not to be alone in the night and face the truth
In a black frame, seeing you seeing through you
and into an ever-expanding void.
I don't cuss or smoke,
And I don't chew "tabakky";
I don't sniff or dip snuff,
Ugh! that stuff is just tacky;
I only drink on occasion,
Like at sundown and such;
I rarely go to casinos
Or play the lottery much;
I've never had to pay child support
Or owed back alimony;
I may go shopping for steak
But usually bring home baloney;
I don't snort or shoot drugs;
Have no rings in my nipples;
Tried to get a tattoo, once,
But couldn't stand all the tickles.
Folks who're loaded with vices
Seem to have all the fun.
Why am I the exception
And not have even one?
I admit it, I'm dull,
And my life's complete boredom.
Sure, I'd have vices, too,
If I could better afford 'em.
The main reason I'm good,
And I won't try to fudge it,
Is because being bad
Is just not in my budget.
The division
Here in this landscape of bushes and crippled trees
the grotesque peace of daylight ghosts, grey boughs
stretching upward appealing to a soundless god.
“Give us today a new life.” There is only one deity
the almighty one goes under the name of Silvanus.
Those who do not understand this are doomed to
a life of empty pursuit of pleasures.
Crowded nightclubs and casinos, people trying
not to be alone in the night and face the truth
we are mortals and infrequently remembered.
Faces in a black frame, seeing you seeing through
you and into an ever-expanding void.
You should take a peek the night winds told the moon.
He was hesitant at first, they are such gossips who swoon.
They are not lying, the evening stars hissed into his ear.
This city is up all night, slumber is not revered or dear.
The moon took a tiny peek from the top of a road.
He was shocked at the amount of silver and gold.
What is this place? He asked. They should be asleep.
They are gambling fools, taking risks and a leap.
This is Las Vegas, the casinos educated the moon.
People come here and act crazy like some kind of loon.
They have to take out loans, a temporary balloon.
To pay their gambling debts. Our owners sing the tune.
But it is time to sleep, the Moon said to them.
He did not like this foolish place, built on a whim.
Its lights, cameras actions, day, noon and night.
The Moon truly wanted to turn out the light.
We were pleased to claim this land
for Jesus.
We raised cities that were bear free.
Our faith in 'better and bigger' soared;
meth fueled crime leapt still greater.
Cracks appeared where a garish paint
had weathered the sky.
Plaster flamingos crumbled,
angelic limbs hung down
caught in ceiling fissures.
Plastic arrows littered pink concrete.
It was a Mall dream; it was our dream.
We began to covet the uncollectable.
In far off lands worker ants labored
to deliver all things desirable.
Homespun was undone,
yet plaid clad truck wranglers
still wrote their country songs.
Impedimenta impeded the improperly taught.
Log cabins transported themselves
to theme parks,
too little hope clogged casinos floors,
rage stalked the freeways uncaged.
God spoke to us,
urged us to fill storage units
with long raked-over junk,
holy relics in duct taped boxes,
all piled most neatly
in that persnickety old-timey way
of the Midwest.
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