LIVING IN TEXAS
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In Texas, where cowboys roam free,
we’re born with big hearts, you see.
With BBQ extraordinair
and boots beyond compare,
We’re proud of our roots, yippee-ki-yay, whee!
With chili quite spicy and bold,
and tales of the wild west retold,
I’ll spin you a yarn,
'Neath the Texas dawn,
For this native blood never grows cold!
From Amarillo to San Antone,
I shout, “Yeehaw!” in a twang all my own.
with chili so hot,
and a big ol’ pot,
of sweet tea that chills to the bone.
The Texas armadillos all cheer,
for the BBQ smoke draws them near.
With ribs piled knee high,
they simply cannot deny,
Life in Texas is the best—let’s be clear!
Pink cat with yellow polka dots
Orange and blue striped kitten
Female faeries with caramel skin
Beige elf man riding a horse with hearts
Why didn’t I make that a unicorn?
Overblown yellow daisy with a pretty face
Purple and yellow dragon wearing knee high boots
This was strange even for me
I smile at my painting from 2017, liking it more now.
... is wearing his tall white top hat
Where his brains should be
Wearing his rainbow bow tie
Where his vocal cords should be
He fancies his dragon cane in his hand
No surprise his shirt is Hawaiian Kine
Made of silk with coconuts and palm trees
For design
He wore brown khaki pants with suspenders to hold them up
His socks were knee high green with tassels on top
But his shoes were the best, better than the rest
All shiny and pointy
And ready to dance ...
Dance away Dance away
Dance through the night
Dance, Little Bear
Dance away Dance away
Dance through the day
Never stop dancing
Dance away Dance a way Dance away
Dance all ways always all ways
Dancing without a care
As He chops away, chops away chops away time
He sizzles and grills fantastic meals from his mind
For he fancies himself a cook not a chef
Being chef just seems too sublime
There is a quick-witted woman I know with three names; her silhouette is a mystery; she's had multiple fragile frames.
Many have tried and failed to tame her rather long mane, but honestly, they were lame flames.
Her treks motivate her for life’s endless, gruelling games.
Called a traveller but never exploring for fame, she isn't one of those Instagram dames.
Nobody can catch her riddle
runner strides, she won't win any elections; her temper never slides.
But that humour will take you on some rollercoaster rides.
A compass nucleus of fears revives stifled tides.
Some have labelled her a peaceful poet and writer.
This makes her laugh; she's always been an ample fighter.
In her day job, she wrestles with a highlighter.
Glued to a screen, she implores the sky to make her mind lighter.
When she was knee-high, she dreamed of being a screenwriter.
A secret rapper, perhaps she will win a Grammy as a songwriter.
Only time will tell where she will land with a whisky and pen in her hands on another all-nighter.
"Whole Wheat"
Trench coats
Pantyhose
Riding lo
Knee high
Nehi soft
Drink
Drunk
Drinkers
Drunk on a
Plasibo
Please no
Tell me it's no
Lie
Laying on like
Mayo laid on
I'm toasted
Tomato
Lettuce but no
Bacon beaconing that
I'm vegan BURP
My lactose
Baby
Can we hang
Out before
I kill the
Ah...
Conversation
Turning to views
Of political intrigue
Triggering
My AK-47
Mouth to
Shout
Out out loud
Loudly tattarrattat
Meaning
Absolutely
Unrefutably
And
As usual
Casually
Nothing
In any of the
USA God save
The queen of the
King James
Joyce hidden
In Gideon Bible
Phrases proclaiming
A swerve of short
Of a short to a
Bend
A way
A lone
At last
Loved
Loved long
As Adam and Eve
Long
And for
Always will
And always will
Cyclically forever
Endlesslessly ever
Be
As I sat under moonlit sky,
playing GUITAR Grandpa gave me
taught me to play, I was knee-high
I feel him close strumming these strings.
Remembering his voice clearly
as I sat under moonlight sky.
His love filled me, I sang with glee,
he adored LILACS and peach pie.
ETCHING 'song' to my heart, I SIGH,
tears flow as I think of that time.
As I sat under moonlight sky,
CAJOLE memories in my prime.
I get MISTY-eyed about him,
He was WEARY, the end was nigh.
SLUMBER came quickly to rare gem,
as I sat under moonlit sky.
08/15/2024
We can live in little boxes in the hills
baby that's what I call the life
Cheap champagne thrills
Skin sticking to the fake leather backseat of your car drunk on your sweet sweat
Up all night waffle house coffee
Lost in admiration, hanging on your dimestore philosophy
This love smells like vinyl
flannel shirts in the sunset
walking through the knee high grass
We never got to sit high on that hillside, every time I turned around you got further away
P h a n t o m step
dried clay tracks
Stage lights
arching as a bridge
S e q u i n s
indifferent
Dance steps
sawdust in the shoes
G l a z e d eyes
scans razor sharp
The sound of the blacksmith's anvil
kills the piggy bank
S e a g u l l scream
opens up to fear
C l a m digging
in gravel and sand bottoms
One white shirt
flutters in the wind
T r a c k i n g the deer
knee high boots
Don't run away
tax to pay
A quiet retreat
soul's goal
Thoughts and e m o t i o n s
internal growing stalk
S i l e n c e speaks in volume
still roaring
the tempest
Days into nights
From demons to angelic flights
Blessed sun and shining moons
Thoughts of light... dark ideas harpoon
Radiant rays in summer to...
Old Man Jack in winter
Two,
Too,
To
Distant arid lands
Bountiful seas and oceans
Majestic mountains touch the sky
Valleys way down, not even knee high
Lovely love that's effervescent and sweet
Dark envy and jealousy make the heart retreat
To,
Too,
Two
First six lines of my triolet entitled “Wrapped in White” followed by my contrasting six lines which I’ll entitle “Crestfallen in Snow”
I long to tread upon the snow
in hush of winter, wrapped in white;
in feathered mounds serenely go.
I long to tread upon the snow.
The boughs hang low; no wind doth blow.
My love, come see the wondrous sight!
Who wants to trudge in knee-high snow
especially in cold of night
when wind chill factor’s ten below?
Cars slide off roads and fierce winds blow.
Boughs break and icicles hang low.
Stay, Dear, instead, by our firelight!
“in the asterlife”
as the corn
was knee-high
on the 4th of July
it came
to pass on
Michaelmas
ducks
did swim
thus on this
Christmas
they’ll
slide
With his baggy overalls
And a worn, plaid cap,
The old farmer recalls
With a piglet in his lap
Seated on the porch swing
Of his aging farmhouse,
He saw not a thing ...
But the life of a louse
A barn roof bowed
Stressing sparse board,
Tractor's down the road
Needs what he can't afford
Fields bare and dry
Never mind the cornstalks,
Who were not knee-high
Down the row he walks
On a day, too hot to toil
When the man couldn't cope,
At the corner of the soil
There stood a ray of hope
And so it was ...
He felt less doomed,
Simply and because ...
One sunflower bloomed.
Lightning strikes colossal oak, bronze armor split like firewood by God’s electric axe, soft pithy interior exposed in winter air.
Walking through the meadow, knee high grass quivering under the wind’s judgmental eye; grouse fly disjointedly into the coral sunset as I wade through the verdant ocean.
A warm clap on the back as you walk through the door into the familiar living room, dust dancing in the golden sunlight pouring through a bay window.
The gait of a man recently in love, thinking of soft hands suddenly adored, folding fresh linen as static electricity crackles in the dry, lavender air.
Her slow walk down velvet stairs, patiently descended with lithe, slow steps draped in mystery and blood-red silk.
It’s the feeling of walking into an underground gambling den, uninvited and alone.
If asked to define the word “dorky”
I guess I'd describe it like this
Wearing stripes and checks together
A sight you surely can't miss
I'm not the ultimate style leader
But at least I do have some taste
Aside from an occasional style faux pas
At times when I dress in haste
Never be seen in horn rimmed glasses
An extreme example of dorkyness
White Adidas with black knee high socks
Now that's really hard to digest
When mom gets really behind in her chores
Hasn't washed my coordinate attire
Forced to wear stuff a little bit dorky
Not something to which I aspire
If asked to define the word “dorky”
Usually try to describe it like this
Stripes, checks and horn rimmed glasses
An example of ignorant bliss
Love is a fickle thing
When your needs aren’t met.
Straying is an option,
But not for the faithful.
They believe in the words once spoken.
Deep roots embedded for generations.
Modeled for those knee-high and older.
To have healthy, safe love.
Who seek the truth behind those not vulnerable.
Desirable, affectionate, and successful they will be
Tired from all the love they’ll receive.
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