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Oh those cursed Ides of the 15th
they brought Julius Caesar death
the soothsayers warning unheeded
mamuralia chased beaten out of city
His clothes animal skins and rags
they set about this scapegoat with glee
hitting him with large wooden sticks
once he was driven out feasting began
All the while in natures ways
comes the madness of march hare
watch as they circle the fields
frequently stopping to box
All this to attract a mate
or is it just wind up their tails
be as may the sight one that stirs
and those mad winds bluster and roar
March arrives full of fury roaring displeasure
and soon is time to sacrifice the Ides Sheep
to bring forth Spring on the vernal equinox
and wave goodbye as march leaves like a lamb
This year the vernal equinox is not on my birthday but on the 20th
Vernal Equinox heralds in spring and the poor Mamuralia is an old man dresses in skins
making him a scapegoat traditionally beaten out of the city to kill off evil the 15th of march
is the date of Caesar s death as foretold to him by a soothsayer
we sailed to the island, the island, the island
and would stay there evermore
with nothing to read but coconuts
and cocoa berries upon the tree
with no barber, Dennis or lawman
things could ghetto might strange
but we handle a leader (let's call him trumper)
trumper stood higher, and gave a screech
about a returnstile trip to sterilization
we stood up and jeered, Hooray, Hooray
but we be stripwrecked, cousin trumper, said we
what chance are we out in the farsighted lotion
where even the seagirls far outnumber us?
never minding that, he said we'll build a blue one
and us set about chirping down trees
at lust, the crate was finnish
two by two, we crumb aboard
and set snail for big indenture
to scoot for homely bound
but the beauty took on water
and we invaded to another shore
fierce sausages lined the bleachers
farmed with spearmints gone galore
we said our players, it looked like pretend
but the sausages made our breakfast friends!
brer trumper aligned a trick or treaty
the crew lived on believing children for eleventy years
Dixon Bullinger braced himself against
another frozen blast of winter wind,
riding through the front range to Denver
where his family was a-waiting.
It was morning on Christmas Eve,
and he was a long time overdue,
but Boss McChord had paid him double
to rescue horses from being consumed.
They’d taken out a problem bear
and had a drink to celebrate,
he’d exchanged good wishes with the boys,
then had set about upon his way.
He rounded a corner in a craggy gorge,
and there he saw a stunning sight:
Santa Claus sat on an empty sleigh,
brooding sadly amidst the white.
Dix rode up, and doffed his hat,
saying,”Father Christmas! What are the odds!
May I ask why you are sitting here though,
‘tis the skies that you usually trod?”
Santa then sadly shook his head,
said,”My boy, you don’t understand.
I stopped for a rest and was robbed blind
by a gang of five masked men!
“They took my sack and with it
all the gifts for the boys and girl.
if I cannot somehow get it back,
there’ll be no presents for the world.”
Dix frowned deeply at the thought,
a coldness creeping into him.
Christmas may have been more than gifts,
but try telling that to the kids!
He said,”If you’ll ride with a fool cowpoke,
I’ll gladly help you find the fiends.
A Christmas with no gifts to give…
that’s not something this world needs.
“I have some skill at tracking, see,
from months chasing stray cows.
If you point me the way they went,
we’ll lick these bandits, and how!”
Santa nodded and pointed off
to a narrow slot canyon,
“That’s the way they all took off,
when the foul deed was done.
“If you start along tracking them,
I will follow as soon as I can.
My reindeer are bushed from today’s work,
Donner is nearly all done in.
“But once they’ve had a breather,
I’ll fly them up into the air.
If you leave a trail for me to follow,
I’ll catch up and meet you there!”
Dixon nodded and removed
his brand new, red, silk scarf.
He cut off a piece and then said,
“This here is bright as any spark.”
With that he took to the trail,
riding down that rocky cleft,
to save Christmas for the little ones
he’d undue this savage theft…
CONTINUES IN PART II.
Gentle hopes thrive in the sunlight
Where miracles are encouraged
And kindness does always flourish
Breathes of passion caress the wind
With musical whispers of tenderness
Creating happiness that flows through
The heart and causes the very soul
To listen with a sense of compassion
Shadows of inspiration soothe the spirit
Where secrecy meets, combining with
Wisdom that reveals truths built on faith
Dancing with enlightenment and desire
Building fires of concern that keeps hearts
Pouring out blessings discovered within
The ones who know love is the only answer
Filling up lives with beautiful, warm embraces
Silent sincerities sigh with pure elation
Fixing their thoughts on blessed visions
Insights into the heart and soul of creativity
Breaking through the worry, pain and strife
Comes the prayers who welcome God’s sign
Revealing to us the wonders that set about
Designing aspirations and second chances
To reach out to those who need our empathy
Brilliant hues of phenomena beckon from
The heart of those who learn and grow with
Knowledge that the Lord is the answer to life
Journeying through this arid earth, yearning
For the wonders found in loving unconditionally
With all the heart and soul, beyond the hurts
Through everything that comes, good and bad
Happy and sad… throughout it all, unending love!
I'll love you if you love me,
respect you if you respect me,
I'll help people that I actually hate
to kill the unhappiness they create
I'll speak truth, won't avoid being straight
falseness traits, fakes, liars I don't appreciate,
I'll only manipulate those whom manipulate,
it's a one off for me, I'll let the evil devastate,
I'll let people abuse me to the point they don't care,
they'll miss me and want me back when I'm not there,
I'll notice intentions and seem most unaware,
I'll build up your confidence and kill it when you dare
I can see your opinion and your point of view,
understand why you do what you do,
so I can be on your side and see you truly too,
and when you try to get me I'll see it before you
You can't hurt me twice if you didn't hurt me once,
nothing and no one will change past influence,
narcissists love me and use me like a sponge
they win but I'll have won destroying their sense
I'm an Empath who is kind caring and easily led,
when I look at people I see only the best,
my heart overpowers the thoughts in my head,
but I'll always seek truth and I'll leave you for dead
However you treat me your intent is noticed,
I'm nice but my evil side is explosive
but I wont use it unless yours is noted
I only want nice things and that's how I live
It's a way people see as their advantage
and set about using me as theirs to manage,
until man oh man I hate to do this,
forced to defend myself and cause you damage
I'll be loyal if you're loyal
I'll be your friend and best mate,
if you know an empath like me
please don't realise to late
A whelk shell on the bathroom windowsill
reflects modest colours curled twirled around
its helix. It takes me back to where I found
this gastropod with others dumped as spoil
over a bank behind a coastal shed.
In the waste of whelks my dear spaniel rolled.
The sticky mess adhered to fur and fold
and in the car the stink did fill my head.
Back home I set about with brush and hose
to clean my Silas of this grave offence.
Yet this made the smell yet more intense
as on both eyes and nose it did impose.
At the youth club some days later, two girls
had him in a sink to wash away the pong;
refreshed, this made the smell arise more strong
from deep within his coat and all its furls.
The shell I kept, from such foul smells now clear
holds memories of my companion dog.
Now to complete this with an epilogue
I dwell upon the shell, hold it to my ear
to hear the distant sea beneath whose swell
that gastropod across the ooze once grazed,
growing this shell above the mud upraised
until the trawler's net its end did spell.
This creature's home now in my hand I feel
its helix holding these events through time
a small memorial here preserved in rhyme
as gathered thoughts; I hope they will appeal.
It was the time when art was king,
Of artists whose praises we all sing.
Great minds there were in the Renaissance,
Through eons , unsurpassed, with little advance.
Greatness was embodied in the works of art,
In Lorenzo's gardens did Michelangelo start.
But great there was one of Mona Lisa fame,
Master painter, inventor - Leonardo his name.
Contemporaries for sure, one really wonders
Of the two, whose work steals the thunders.
David, the Pieta, Sistine Chapel, and more
Everlasting they are through ages sure.
But then there's the Lisa, Last Supper, inventions galore.
On their ingenuity and genius, the world lays great store.
Can genius be bestowed in multiple men?
Can peace and tranquility be shared even then?
Can two kings sit and reign on one throne?
Or squabble and fight like two dogs with one bone?
And so, these men of unparallel fame
Were set by chance a mischievous game.
Asked they were to adorn the Council Hall
With paintings to settle rankings once and for all.
With gusto did the two set about
A Battle each to prove their clout.
Leonardo chose the battle of Anghiari;
Battle of Cascina was Michelangelo's quarry.
Great was the strife between the two,
Each strove hard for the other to outdo.
Of the rivalry ,I heard, - the worst of all,
Art was the victim - and the two took a fall.
Relates the great chronicler Vasari,Giorgio,
That the nadir of art was seen in the Palazzo Vecchio
As each of the greats thought little of their craft
But dallied and diddled, till the populace all laughed.
The Cascina on naked bathing soldiers was based
On the banks of the Arno it was placed.
But the scene that was rendered was so ludicrous
That his work, sadly, bordered on the ridiculous.
Leonardo's Anghiari was a shade grim
But his chances to greatness was very slim.
He used oils from Pliny the Elder's recipe
But soon these flaked , were smudgy, and drippy.
Be that as it may
To Art's great dismay
What should have been great works
Were diminished by Rivalry's quirks.
Vasari painted over these objets de art
And replaced these with his own from the start.
Now conservators do scan, to see if they can,
Which of the two, Leonardo or Michelangelo, was
The painter of the elusive Magnum Opus.
~18 Jun 2016~
There was a time when I was young,
My cousin Glenn and I,
Did fall in love with one young man,
Whose face and form were fine.
He had a twinkle in his eye,
A movie star like smile,
And it was said we'd walk a ways,
To glimpse his fine profile.
He worked aft school a mile away,
From where we lived back then,
And we decided we'd walk that way,
And mayhap talk to him.
We dressed ourselves and combed our hair,
To look our very best,
To see which one that he might choose,
To be his special guest.
My cousin stole her mother's clothes,
A jumpsuit of bright yellow,
In hopes she'd catch his eye and then,
He'd be her steady fellow.
The one piece suit was very tight.
It looked like she had poured,
Her roundish form into a great,
Big, giant gourd.
She smiled and asked me if I thought,
The suit did show her figure.
She couldn't sit, could hardly walk,
"It could be somewhat bigger."
She didn't care for what I said,
And we set out to walk,
The mile to where "Adonis" worked,
And mayhap watch him gawk,
At two such beauties as we were,
As we set about a drill,
Upon the trampolines where we,
Would show athletic skill.
Glenn was first, she gave a jump,
Into the air so high,
And as she sailed aloft her suit did burst,
I watched the pieces fly.
Like a big yellow balloon it popped,
And flew in all directions.
She hit the ground and screamed and ran.
So much for grace and perfection.
I laughed until I wet my pants,
And so we both lost face.
She hid in the bathroom and tried to pin,
The pieces back in place.
With pins I got at the snack bar,
From Adonis, my face beet red;
For he could see I'd peed my pants.
We both wished we were dead.
Overwhelmingly fragile life is,
It often knocked us down on our knees.
Facing the daybreak has been exceedingly petrifying
where to rise where to set?
Do I even belong here?
A loner I've always been.
From million miles, I shot the star yet fall on lion’s mouth
there's scarcity of rooms to procure all that's hurting,
All that's maiming.
then what's left is all bogus,
A goal of its own to attain
winning or losing I am on the race.
Even so, as I set about to stretch my wings and waggle
No longer could I hobble around.
while all I own is learning to recline on Jesus,
the Master of all the masters
supersede the unfathomable vagueness,
rose brighter when all I comprehend is a grey of tilted shades
He truly is my superhero for life.
On a wisp of wattle
that cradled in the fig,
a dreaming began
as sleep draped veils
to nurture a gleam into
dazed eyes,
as mantles of moonbeam
wreath temples
I fell to,
A gathering cluster
that saturated all reality,
a sculptor with tool
set about carving
a bird of paradise
as form finished
it flew away
A dove birthed
from a painters brush
and wiggled free to
splash the canvas
of black
staining its feathers
in obsidian
from centurions
I am gifted a
mariners compass,
they lead me to three rivers
setting sail
like the hunter after hare,
the cross and crown
my guiding lights
my keel wedged
on flying fish,
once soaring
times hand pulled
me to dock with face
now,
so weary I sleep
endless tomorrows,
and will drift awake
as the phoenix
morphs to crane
infinitesimal stars
will emblazon my hair
with constellations
as I regather from
the comforts of reverie
—-
and every now and then,
seeing miniature worlds
on specks of wonderment
will remind me,
that I am just dream-weaving
through southern lights