And Now I've
Got A Whole
Buncha' BENT
BUCKETS!!!
Let It Flow...
Flower And Grow,
Spread All The
Refusal...
The Perfection
Is In The Upheavel!
You Knew That
Too.
Keep Kicking
Until It's No
Longer
BENT.
--Gray Squirrel
07-30-
baby ostrich queen of the land
stretches her wings like a rubber band
snaps back together and gives a squawk
we like to see this one wobble walk
baby ostrich queen with voice a squeak
to your life we would ask one tiny peek
she waddles away waving her feather tail
post office maybe? To get the mail?
the wretched burnt-orange sun
beats down on my broken car
as she thumps mindlessly through potholes
with windows down
we gaze at clowns
and the derelicts
and the dirty tricks
as they crawl
across the pavement
the lively beauties walk
amongst jackasses and Gemini's
confused hooligans steal
from random pedestrians
to feed addictions
fulfilling a need, though
they mean you no harm, indeed
despite their transgressions
we're all devoured
by our own deceptions
the colorful healer stood out in the plant convention
most of us were dressed in dour, drab, earthy clays or browns
the healers from the forests were dressed in a variety of greens.
the colorful healer could be easily spotted wherever she went
she shone like a beacon out of the meadows of greens that day
most of us had never thought to dress like this
we are garden people, tree people, bush and vine people.
She taught us a lot, living her own truth. We were amazed.
There is nothing more breathtaking than a clear sky at night when the wonders of creation are above you.
Quote by poet.
Natures wonders are on display
But are not seen in bright of day
So venture out in dark of night
I'll guarantee you'll want to stay.
Sparkling diamonds on a clear night
A full moon too shining so bright
Meteors too streaking brightly
The night sky is an awesome sight.
Those brighter lights that you will see
Are the planets in perigee
You'll need a telescope I fear
When they're far out in apogee.
Winter's best when the skies are clear
Wrap up well keep a warm drink near
When dawn comes the show is over
The moon and stars now disappear.
Frenzied mud dabber is telling me who’s boss
You don’t know what they are? Well, that’s your loss
Squirrel runs down a limb with something in his mouth.
All the birds are coming back from the deep south.
Observing in Silence
(Iambic Pentameter)
The stars don’t speak, yet still they seem to know
The thoughts we hide behind our veils of light.
They turn in rhythm, pulsing soft and slow,
Their silence louder than our words in flight.
A shadow moves across the inward screen,
A gesture drawn from dreams we fail to name.
The stillness holds what never could be seen—
A whisper held within a breathless flame.
And I, no longer bound by need to speak,
Observe the Spiral’s curve without demand.
Its echo wraps the silence that I seek,
A language traced in dust and open hand.
standing in the rain again
in the rain again I stand,
next to the Finnish truck driver waiving with a wet newspaper
or maybe it's a card deck, hand looks like a duck's beak
from the radio "Satumaa" sounds like fruits falling from trees
rolling down on the patio to find a man and woman circling each other's bulb like bodies
and everyone has forgotten why it rains
we are surrounded by tango and dresses and unsteady hands on knee caps, nails tapping on guilt and minds too hazy to recall what a promise feels like
drops keep running down my neck
I long for a glass of whatever to lean my finger and thoughts against
Reijo Taipale will not be leaving the radio anywhere soon, and someone says "we are in a movie, feels like it, right? this is too real to be anything but"
no birds are singing anymore
wax like birches are standing heavy and empty against the quiet lake
where all the horses sometimes used to swim
the wooden boards will squeak when I leave.
Good people.. I wish to say you are not perfect..Nor am I 'by the way..' so what makes us
Better.? Or worse for all that may.? To catch a mackerel I hear say, you must offer a spratt..
So give to fortune? To gain by plan? always wanting is normal to almost all human's
What do you want? I hear so often, like a second reality, like the yeast in some leven
How do we find equanimity? surceace' a more honourable role? I have watched many turn
Some fall from a place' from bad to worse, while others climb unto grace' I take nothing
As granted, yet cherish each chance to learn, as we travel in this most human race'
Wondering are there some? Whose want is pure? Placed by God..Whom wish just to
Be secure.' And just will the same, for others while here, drawn by the spirit built to adhere!
When I look at the dark sky
I see the moon
Inside the moon I see the King
With the Crown
Sitting on the throne
Holding the book with a seal
Leaning on his knees
And what do you see ?
His head is monstrous said the withered hag with a bit of awe.
I did not know who she meant, until I turned and saw….
A colorful creature dressed like the Mardi Gras
You are right I said to my observant mother, Maw.
young nurse backed out of the transparent clinic door
she no longer wears scrubs but I wish she did
she has on flesh-colored leggings
I imagine she is bigger than I am, and I wear an eighteen
anyone over a six should not wear flesh-colored leggings
I make a note of this
oh, my, this was the nurse with the beautiful blonde hair
It is awful now, dyed in four colors
faded pink, bland purple, washed out green, gray yellow
Don’t women have mirrors anymore?
Above the heat
the sky is flecked with ice.
The sun is no longer burning,
it’s a ghost lamp swept by the rags
of a coat-tailing wind.
There it is - arriving out of a hazy distance
a living cliché, a Bald Eagle
It must have caught a thermal.
I think of all the medallions and coins
it has been stamped and embossed upon;
here it is
an existential exclamation mark.
The eagle veers away
turning deeper into the ice-blue.
No one witnesses this,
even my eyes watch cynically,
the jaded disappointment of this sadness
is darkening my sight.
All hail to the he American eagle -
slowly disappearing.
© 59 mins ago
Dying to comply?
Oh my.' Thinking and feeling
Sick, sick, sick; ENOUGH !
Leopard looks solidly relaxed
Reposing in the top of his tree
Using binoculars, I marvel at his beauty.
Or her beauty, there is a regal magnificence about her
I wonder if she senses she is being watched.
As she licks her paws I get a weird feeling that she does not.
But then she stops and stares straight as an arrow toward me.
I stop breathing.
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