All of those rooms I still dream of
install a flame right under me.
Crawl if needed run when you can,
ball like a boss fight eagerly.
Renovate an outdated thought,
fate snuffed it out so long ago.
Elevate to match new enterprise,
create ‘A list’ I’m the chateau.
on a bet, Chateau decided to walk to London town
We told him it was futile but he was honor-bound
There is an ocean, we reminded him, as we told him bye.
He gnawed off part of the mountain, and began to fly.
Chateau flew through the air in a confident way.
We looked at each other in pure amazement that day.
He has ideas that seem far-fetched said my sister Jill.
I rolled my eyes as he disappeared over the hill.
I have no qualms that Chateau made it to London town.
His positivity is so upbeat, he is almost never down.
I watched the news, hoping to see him for it was my dare.
Sure enough, on London’s Channel thirteen, he was featured in the air.
Roaming in these magnificent halls.
Seeing all the mirrors and paintings.
Alone I stroll, looking at history.
Loving the stories they once told.
Staring at the crystals on the ceilings.
Admiring the lights, a golden scene.
Everything classy and old.
The memories appear in my mind.
Drifting inside the rooms,
it's inviting and enticing.
Dancing in my red gown,
I feel I have lived here before.
Spinning in the ballroom,
enjoying the colors shift around.
The familiar music playing in my head.
I slip back to the time I once had.
You! Demon in the sack,
Put the bollards around the heart to tame the love of old.
Doing penance for thousands of years
In anticipation at the Château of Delight, …that it?
Well, simple necessities of life convey into the lore of romance,
And you atone for the sins, and you show the kindness,
And you do until you die, as he did in the sky.
A heap of stones drag me down to the bottom
Of this mystic river of thoughts, or a short puff of pleasure,
When I see my lass walking down the old road, for a good measure.
Nah, it’s not treasure, but a mignonette on an open palm
As a shiny ghost that refrains from talking into the ear of a hearer,
A messenger for ought I know, and I know not, until I hear her.
And then she coos, and then I coo, what to do, if I don’t woo?
My fervid desires, my lucky four-leaf clover, the smell
Of cinnamon on the lips of this dame, this lass,
I do not care for as long as I make her confess,
And I don’t want just to woo, but deviltry her moist with dew.
Chateau Charlene pulled out all the pins today
Trying to watch Cheeky Wall fall.
Cheeky Wall has had too much experience
Showing the world her sassy, funny, hilarious side
Keeping our true feelings inside
As deep down as possible
Emotions are seething from Cheeky Wall
Into the grounds of Chateau Charlene right now
Like snakes, they slither toward her foundation,
Trying to crack it, reveal her secrets.
These two are in a magnificent love-hate relationship.
Each trying to sabotage
And take down the other
When the kingdom falls
Will the truth be revealed?
Person alert.
Smile on face?
Pretend light in eyes?
Happiness showing?
Depression and despair in the dungeon gurgles up
In a bowl of black snakes and dead pussy willow leaves.
I tamp them down
So no one knows
“Hi!” we say.
A bit too brightly.
Luckily no one
cares or even
notices.
COMPANY PRIDE DIVIDED
THEM.
THEY THOUGHT
WHAT EACH
OTHER DID, WAS BEST
IF NOT BEST BETTER
THAN THOSE IN COMPETITION!
THEY RESEARCHED AND
FOUND THINGS TO BE TRUE.
THEY SOUGHT THUR DETAILS AND
FOUND THOSE FALSEHOODS THAT
WERE DEMONIC IN THEIR DETAILS, AND
MADE THINGS DIFFICULT FOR CLARITY.
THEY USED MYTHS TO SOLVE MYSTERIES.
AND FOUND WAYS TO MAKE RIGHT
SOME WRONGS.
WISER MEN SAID THEY WERE FOOLS.
FOOLISH PEOPLE SAID THEY WERE WISE.
COMMON FOLK APPRECIATE
WHAT THEY WERE DOING.
SOME COMMON FOLK, SOME SAW THEM
AS THOSE KINDA PEOPLE WHO DISTRACT
PEOPLE FROM THE REALITIES OF LIFE,
THAT THEIR WORKS,
WERE EXAGGERATED TO CONVINCE A WORLD
TO MAKE THEM SEEM LARGER
THAN WHAT THEY REALLY WERE !
BUT THEY WERE GREAT MEN!
THEY WERE CELEBRATED MEN!
THEY CREATED THEMSELVES
THRU THE EXISTENCE OF THE PAST
SO THAT THE ART OF BELIEVING
WOULD BE SEEN IN CLEAR VIEW
AND APPRECIATED!
I would love
to return to France
to try and
save our romance.
Find a Chateau
that we could run.
Down south,
where there is sun.
Spend the summer
helping brides.
While in the winter
we would hide.
Evenings spent
by the fire.
As we rekindle
our desire.
I would love
to return to France.
If you would
give me one more chance.
Let my embattled heart
take refuge
within your fortress walls.
Give it the chance to mellow
in a slow healing process,
shedding the insipid taste
of bitter experiences,
then, let it learn to love again.
---------------------------------
When I was a young'un many years ago
Dreamt of being famous, but had nothing to show
Till creativeness took hold
Blossomed forth so bold
Now I live in a opulent 30-room chateau? NOT!!!
Chateau Pl
A sleep walk guided by reflections
Although somethings were real
Not the front entry way
Or the stair case
Or the garage for that matter
Scrubbed and alcohol swabbed shoes
Eating off those would've been though
Pee sitting down!
And cologne must not be detectable
From more than an arms length away!
Nobody wore it
I think
The closet could've clothed a small town
And housed an elderly couple with a Pomeranian
A parked Steinway on sleek marble
Or maybe it was a Bentley, whichever,
The keys were misplaced
Handshakes are forbidden!
You may speak, however.
A stolli over ice seemed to be the only thing
Not surreal
Unless you would fancy triple dipping
Beluga caviar with a vacuum in your hand surreal
Or, perhaps, being seduced by homemade egg noodles
Can you describe that atrocius smell?
A Land's End catalog doused in kerosene
Ties & cufflinks & Jackets on fire sale
A whiff of ozone
Darkness
A hazy stare assisted by chirping birds
and a gurgling salt water tank
In an upstairs, 2 bdr. duplex
A peon awakens a prince
le château indésirable
(The undesirable Chateau )
I have no body
I am asleep
My head lies in a an old wooden box
My eyes are closed
The world is too cruel
A single tear rolls down my face
I am sad and I can fathom no reason why
Do all the dead babies cry?
Not even born and yet my soul is old
I am just a head in an old wooden box
My body is gone, I know not where
My chateau is an old empty crate
One of the unwanted
Why do you stare?
This old wooden cage is my home sweet home
I lie here to ponder and contemplate
I sometimes stare to the skies
So
Unwanted
A
healthy
prescription-
the red wine of
life
Flourished, the vintage affection of elegant talent
drizzled lightly in the exploration of a drowning yacht,
resurfaced, only through amiable bailing,
continual, until the waves desist,
the ocean arid,
then lingers,
submerged in the dip of the shoreline.