Long Plebian Poems

I see this ulcer
Mind boggling in perception
Body arresting in phenomena
Of diverse shapes and designs
Magnificently wrought together
In one whiff of putrid scent
It is of an exotic nature
Magnanimously growing out of context
Thus ticking with apocalyptic dimensions ...

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Two Poems on Musical Themes


Salieri Speaks

His genius brought me to the brink of a fearful inadequacy.
What does one do when you reach a mountain top
only to find yourself on a foothill?
I thought posterity would acknowledge
the...

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OF THE COMMON SEAS
  "We must come down from our heights, and leave our straight paths, for the byways and low places of life, if we would learn truths by strong contrasts; and in...

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the notorious hotel...
monument to the greed of men,
it is a breathing stone-hewn titan -
looming over her, threatening pomposity,
selfishness threaded with egyptian cotton,
the cold stares of people from the upper leagues of life...
yet the young street...

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Photographers on the lawn were making such a fuss
Woke me up to tell me I was now in Queen of every country.
You mean in this hemisphere? I asked them. But no….
They meant I was Her...

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These days, when He watches her, she unconsciously moves 
                      a fringe of hair...

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Somewhere in our misused-contrused essential self lives a malignant cogent cabaret of simul castrated away ills stranded contrivances depleted of furtive 
psychosocial datatrums that copiously under dictate a nil nemesis never-ending sickening's over black compliance...

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IF ever I had a country : XXIX - XXX

                         ...

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I have in my life some sad stories no one would love to hear, moments when my mind grapples with dilemma, fear shouting for me to give Him an ear. Courage seated there shaking his...

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My muse Trixie is always raring to go; she writes while I sleep.
I know because upon awakening I hear a poem often.
The last couple of lines anyway, which is truthfully rather exasperating.
She has favorite words...

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My muse Trixie is always raring to go; she writes while I sleep.
I know because upon awakening I hear a poem often.
The last couple of lines anyway, which is truthfully rather exasperating.
She has favorite words...

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Poets aren't noted for raking in dough,
They may get some attention,
But it's mostly for show.
Take, for example, the bard Ogden Nash,
His writing brought him great pleasure,
But he still worked to earn cash.
From mail room to...

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Luxurious little lemon tree
in the freshest garden next to a pea
was heartily happy and wildly free
She could be herself, and forever see
Chickadee’s nest and a drilling bee.

There was a haunting melody
Somewhere nearby a dog had...

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