It was a warm winter except for those twelve days
in February.
When the ice wind froze so cold it hurt the earth and temperatures
plummeted way below zero.
Stay inside, keep off the roads, sleet sheeted the ground
then snow but always surrounded in deep cold.
So cold it hurt to the bones
shivering days and nights.
Drip those faucets or you'll need a plumber
when it thaws.
Hot was the menu, whatever food or drink
it needed to warm your body and thaw your soul.
Never enough blankets during a deep freeze.
It became a three dog, two cat and circus of
plush animals nights. Families huddling for warmth.
Coldness brings all together, survival kicks in.
But as nature does warmness slipped in.
Slowly the earth defrost and the ice melted
and there was a big yellow sun with happy
warm rays. Days at the end of February even
reached into the seventies.
Almost all winter this season was warm
but that one cold spell was a doozy.
Caution still in the wind. March and April
may surprise.
I rejoice where peace is sacred to tease;
Where people draw lots to prove I'm insane...
To beat countless weep into sleep at ease
Without mastery of such acts deep down brain.
I rejoice nonstop...
Praise wriggles every sweat's drop
Till my voice can't pop.
I rejoice where reasoning is far a cure;
Where insanity peeps gut to be gone...
To keep off every thought which seems obscure,
Contemplating of how easier than done.
I rejoice undone...
Praise hails Almighty off fun,
Till my thoughts be gone.
I wish Wems a good day for this new age,
With pleasure well placed out of clock's hands rage...
Counting down seconds each time,
Cum minutes-hours till prime
Dates months of seasons in-out of life's gauge.
Be happy my good friends,
How time of season comes;
Past years- how each blends-
Today's wishes... for joy drums...
Falling back in the womb of lone darkness,
Not willing to embrace life's bright spirit...
Whispering from conscious hidden abruptness
While growing claws to hunting like ferret.
One aspect darkness never silent is truth,
And it is the only aspect truth likes of darkness;
That shines bright lies to help light interpret Ruth-
Her selfless sacrifice for love is of willingness. ..
How long will it take to forget such care,
Roaming around sky's silent braod despair:
So grief-stricken cum insult,
Of when will there be result
Off probability what hope don't spare?
How chesty alerts,
Keep off while journeying deserts;
Only care asserts
Of the empty memory she kept of him,
Heartbroken yet never seemed a victim.
Table for two please,
Mine and Destiny
Cause it's about time we had that date
And maybe after that I'll nail it
Keep off the water
I don't want it to be soaked
But you can keep serving
Lemmi keep it busy chewing on something
Cause I'd not want it to bite me off
While there are many things I'd want to tell them
Like how it's taking its sweet time
With spin-offs while we know where this is going
I'd want it to look away
And maybe it could show me just where I need to focus
Cause my eyes have been so focused on it
At times I trip and forget the now
Table for two please,
Mine and Destiny
I'm about to propose
And make it bound to me for life
The PO£T
Gaza’s not a bug it’s a feature
This is what the west wants to teach ya
Keep off our green green grass
Or we’m a kick y’all’s ass
Gaza’s not a bug it’s a feature
Pull up a ringside seat, yeah
We want you to hear all the crying
We want you to smell all the dying
Gaza’s not a bug it’s a feature
Sit down and listen to teacher
Trust not your ears or your eyes
Trust in our beautiful lies
Gaza’s not a bug it’s a feature
We’ve always used this procedure
Learn you what’s wrong and what’s right
In the glare of our big gas light
Gaza’s not a bug it’s a feature
Deep in your mind we defeat ya
Fret not what’s right or what’s wrong
Just bend the knee to the strong
Gaza’s not a bug it’s a feature
This is just rinse and repeat yeah
Korea Iraq Vietnam
Who’s our next Passover lamb?
Gaza’s not a bug it’s a feature
Take it from the mad street preacher
Truth is to buy and to sell
We make the heaven and hell
Gaza’s not a bug it’s a feature
You’re not like us? We delete ya
Agent Smith’s hand in your chest
Now you’re a Smith like the rest
Songs from a life, sounds like the blues,
microwave fries, pot noodle, stews,
dead on two legs, only half-nine,
saying yes, to the overtime,
this months rent and the kids' new shoes.
Paying forward, paying your dues,
when there isn't much left to lose,
longing for friends, weekends and wine,
songs from a life.
Cut price make up covers the bruise,
somewhere hard cash, won't look for clues,
warning the kids to keep off-line,
praying tomorrow, turns out fine,
unreported on last nights news,
songs from a life.
Black and white motives, it was simple;
The camera rolled before words came,
an adventure played on screen;
Technicolor breathed even more energy
into that delicious cinema magic;
It was all about the best way to tell a tale.
Once upon a time Hollywood had a story to tell..
As it chased what the dollars dictated
slowly the red carpet flames faded;
It didn’t matter who was creative
no chances were going to be taken;
Art locked out of every studio door
exchanged for recycled reboots;
No risk in more of a sure thing;
Now we are left with creativity dying;
Once upon a time Hollywood had a story to tell..
Work places know to keep off of topics
that are known to impede their business;
The film industry is not exempt from this.
Create the most compelling product,
leave out their allegiances keep their art.
Bring back all the ‘Happily ever after.’
Once upon a time Hollywood had a story to tell.
When We Took a Trip
Horn Haiku
when we took a trip
we were given a great tip
should go on a ship
she gave me some slack
instead we stayed in a shack
with black smokestack in back
when we went to game
bad players had been the blame
would be such a shame
ate big piece of pie
keep off table I did try
got some in my eye
with them made amends
brought back family and friends
their suffering ends
when the news was seen
had created such a scene
people there were mean
while under blue sky
avoid Trump again did try
when he caught my eye
when grabbed by the throat
she had wanted us to vote
in boat sail to Shallotte
when we would scurry
famous person did bury
we had to hurry
when this was the last
poem that I wrote in the past
often would procaste
what in past had found
no longer want Trump around
hard to bare his sound
You’re beautiful to me;
Your smile,
your laugh,
even your deafening silence is beautiful to me.
You simply being you is something I love to see,
something I love to embrace,
and something I love to hear.
I wish I was able to call you mine,
embrace you in a warm blanket of love and reassurance,
and though I still can,
it doesn’t convey the feelings I have for you.
though I know they have to be condoned,
something I have to keep off to the side,
essentially on the back burner.
I wish to show you how you should be treated,
how I want to treat you,
yet I’m not aloud,
There’s an invisible barrier that I can’t cross.
I will still love you, regardless of what happens,
because for now,
our souls are intertwined in something that I can’t untangle.
So for now,
you shall be tangled
within my soul.
I don’t sense that God keeps score --
my guess, believing He already
has enough pollsters and priests for that,
man’s predisposed world of numbers and
profitable confessions,
ballot slips and extra altar sips,
less Jung and more Freudian
myself reasoning that, Lover and
Judge are not compatible, the best
leaving their robes at the courthouse,
their own dwellings Duty Free
For sure, by now, have learned my ideas
often not mainstream, avoiding prescribed
social templates, ducking Bibles, my heart and head
a record of lumps
attempting to understand and follow Christ
not always a Sunday picnic, the devil in
the weather, and “keep off the grass” --
I worry about a deep scratch,
That is on the glass, not the hatch.
On couch, keep a clutch -
Your blow’s a bit much,
When farts, with a stain, do dispatch.
Fire can keep off the way,
Water can't block the way
Fires can be put out with water
Water can't be destroyed by fire
Wildfires and Floodwaters
Surround us songs of Love
Kisses can't be tamed
either or together.
He’s a young old man as he
Shambles down the street
With his thousand yard stare so
His eyes and yours seldom meet.
Some times he’s sober
Sometimes he’s not
Sometimes it depends on
How much money he’s got.
And he tries to keep smart,
Keep a shine on his shoes
And he fights like hell
To keep off the booze.
And his bottomless eyes
Hide the things that he’s seen
In service of his country,
In service of his Queen.
Respected in his regiment
He knows not to expect
Consideration for his rank
Or much civilian respect.
Just an old soldier
Ruined by his trade
Wracked in despair by some
Of the calls that he’s made.
And you walk in freedom
Because of him and his kind
While he’s on the scrap heap,
Guilt and despair on his mind.
Trained to obey and
If necessary to kill,
In civilian life
Not a transferable skill.
Spare him a thought
The next time he walks by:
There but for fortune
Could have walked you or I.
A young old man wracked
By what he’s done and seen
In the service of his country,
In the service of his Queen.
Can marrying Lydia
Be a good idea
Or one to shrug off
And from her keep off?
Lydia would men ride
In her Giant Pride;
Not blinking her eyes
Drop them chosen lies:
“From parched lands heard ‘squelch’;
Beer drinkers don’t belch!”
Is shunning Lydia
A Male Coward’s fear?
Her eyes on India
Like it should be “Now!”
She a sacred cow;
You to not ask “Why?”
For she shall still try!
What you and I eat
What you and I eat
We would at times heat
To killer germs beat:
With fire foes greet;
The Waiting in Wheat!
What you and I Eat
Strength obliges our feet:
Sportsmen who eye feat
Record still Plain Sheet.
When fail we to eat,
We could like sheep bleat
Shiver as during sleet.
And cooks die to meet
I know about uncompleted building
A Terrible lot it could start wielding:
Perhaps, not in Far-Away Siberia
But, quote me, here in Lord God’s Nigeria!
A Receiving Camp for Smokers of Weed,
The Thickest Spirals in times of vile Need;
All The Depraved in Neighborhoods shielding,
Cries of torture as victims are pleading …
Get ready for the Truest Euphoria,
People down with The Falsest Malaria;
A Scenario for The Angering Deeds:
How dare you there recite The Apostles’ Creed?
Also, a venue for Helpful Latrine,
Unless Keep-Off Signals you meet Urine.
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