Tangerine tan man masterplan such chumps
Plumps to rain down bombs on Iranian clumps
Logic stumps as facts and pacts again dumps
Throat lumps as fossil fool fuel prices jumps
Getting trumped and thumped at the pumps
Oil barons gloat gazumps.. economy slumps
No cargo due to embargo everything flumps
Even a MAGA fan is now down in the dumps
Grumps got the hump with Mar a Lago frumps
Thicker than Forrest Gump deadlier than mumps
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the tap releases its thin silver ribbon
into the waiting basin.
No ceremony,
only the patient gathering
in curved porcelain.
Rain arrives differently~
a thousand small surrenders
against the thirsty earth.
It darkens stone, plumps the soil,
disappears without demanding notice.
Then there is the river’s deeper song,
carrying forgotten leaves
and the sky’s reflection
as it moves toward some unseen horizon,
never pausing, never rushing.
The lake holds stillness best of all—
a polished mirror where clouds drift like thoughts
and dragonflies trace the surface
without breaking its quiet skin.
Even in tumult, water finds its level;
it is calm. it asks nothing but
to flow, to fall, to hold.
to be.
Don't give a jot or
A sod this lot
On your tod..just nod
Seedier greedier leaders
Stun..Shun the Needier
Not just down trodden
Sodden...run roughshod
Beseech each of those clowns..down
In the dumps chumps who chose
Plumps for stealthy
Leeches who teaches
Fools at our schools
Only the wealthy can stay healthy
No education for the nation
Uses...abuses..eschews..media issues..then sues
Argy bargy - sarky malarkey ensues
Bemuses readers…forsake news as fake
It's a Maga Saga ruse for f**ks sake
No immigration...deplore integration
To restore order…close the border
Hardcore race riot diet of denigration
Likes 60's generation segregation
Damnation not salvation..just devastation
She's only seventeen
Eyes of warm blue ice…
a sky with clouds of pearl
Kindness peeks out,
empathy for the whole world
Ebony lashes, concealing,
revealing, in a graceful fan
Flickering glimpses of
this strong woman within
Youth plumps and smooths
dandelion dusted skin,
That only glows a golden bronze
when the sun's shinin’.
Hair, a long and straight
arrow down her back
Sometimes it's a rich brown,
sometimes blue, or black
Not interested in pink satin
or frilly, white lace
But she loves to have shiny jewels
to decorate her face
Inside this stunning shell,
behind all the bling,
Lies a mind full of deep thoughts,
a heart that's known pain
Yet she laughs without boundaries,
she will always dance in the rain
My heart and soul, my beloved,
She's only seventeen.
all gym op Ill chumps free caw’s paces.
ball brim bop dill thumps see jaw’s maces.
call crim cop grill pumps knee saw’s cases.
nonsensical word play is the aces!
doll dim drop shrill humps plea yaw’s places.
fall flim flop frill rumps tree slaw’s glaces.
hall him hop jill lumps dee flaw’s races.
sing song rhythm leaves graces.
enthrall limb lop bill dumps knee straw's laces
mall mim mop cill grumps lee vaw's faces
paul prim pop hill stumps wee heehaw's praces
melody keeps me jumping glaces
saul stem stop zill mumps jee gnaw’s braces
tall grim plop thrill plumps zee draw’s vasesp
wall whim whop pill frumps kee shaw’s daces
loving this poem and her traces.
He speaks for the uprooted.
A man of sorts, a twiggy Buddha.
He who interprets
the conferences of frogs,
the unpublished works
of kestrels and voles.
He’s an advocate for the underbelly
of a microbial heaven, for every kind
of uncouth animalcule.
Ancient is he, yet as fresh as tomorrow,
in green ponds he fishes for sunlight.
He plumps grassy pillows,
quilts nests for the slumbering and slippery,
gardens all the dewy meadows.
He speaks for the bulldozed,
the displaced. The native and
the nomadic.
He sweeps the muddy tracks
of iron caterpillars.
Bears tell him
of how things are going
in the suburbs,
in swimming pools and trash cans,
There must be a treaty.
Kits and coyote love him,
whistle-Pigs trumpet his approach.
Ducks quack his many sermons,
may shotguns always misfire.
He is a preacher,
a teacher to tic and turtle,
a bosky fellow, not a straw man,
or a hollow but verdant,
a green man for me and thee
harken now to his leafy lingo
for tomorrow he may be only a scarecrow
in a long ravaged field.
Old age
Threatening near
Wrinkles on forehead
Lines on corners of eye
Netted crosses on cheeks
Plumps of fat
On protruding belly
Double chins
Hanging loose
Shrivelled hands and fingers
Resemble those of a cold blooded animal
Clumsy legs
Staggering
Sinking eyes
Dimming
Exhausted brain
Confusing
A complicated world
A bleak future
For every oldie
And it comes only once
the unzipped match —
a flame that heats the tips of fingers,
those sensitive appendages
that linger,
upon the cheek,
the whiskers.
erogenous zones touched by the flame,
like candles arouse
compatible birthday suits.
the cherry red matchstick
plumps up her lips
making them magnetic.
his lips and ruby tongue
pulled into
the black hole of her being.
their own haven of forest
in flames —
no longer tame.
the full force of desire
moves over her neck
her shoulders,
lower and lower,
leaping higher and higher.
flesh singed —
in the end both become smokers
in bed.
9/25/2019
For Timothy Lee, the best of me
Meeting you was my ultimate life lift.
Loving you is my cherished, precious gift.
Your unique ways still dizzy me love high.
Just as yesteryear, passion plumps my sigh.
My first sight of you bounced feel in my chest.
Each year grows my passion atop loves crest.
Home moments of couple-ness stay my bliss.
No ache endures past the cure of your kiss.
We always could and do discuss all things.
Our talks grow and bond us in word-warm springs.
Laughter often aches both our ribs at night.
Even now, our love enhances its light.
From the start, you called me pretty and hot.
Time has not changed your praise a single jot.
With you, my all is relaxed in our share.
To show you love remains my joyous care.
How rare the wonder of day’s end with you!
Night time snuggling eases life's hits anew.
Our same heat reaches feverish embrace.
May our bond always fail as common place.
... CayCay
September 9, 2018
A bluebird sits in the old pine tree,
dressed in blue for the jubilee.
He plumps his feathers for the show,
(he's an absolute Romeo.)
He hears the other birds complain,
But Bluebird's there to entertain.
He ignores the jealous looks,
his name will be in storybooks.
Bluebird's soft lilt and rolling sway,
All of nature wants to stay.
To listen to his graceful song,
he wants you to come along.
He's the star of this bird show,
(he's an absolute Romeo.)
Confessions of lust
In death’s sweet crust
Of poisoned fruit
Deceiving the just
Silky smooth skin
The secrets within
The veiled mushroom stem
Not outside but in
Fruit on a cage
Wither with age
Yet memory plumps
In youths' first page
Passion still lives
Forgets and forgives
Even if life
Leaves the crust
On a plate
A small advance party scouted the valley high,
The rest,
In a ba,
Massed on the ocean nigh,
Not towering creatures with spindly hairs,
Nor mountains of bellows with rumbles of bears,
But endless splotched
Like cotton from cats,
Plumps and hunky
Like so many rats,
These clouds rolled by
In a playful parade,
Summer chasing Summer,
Turtle passing hare,
Chicken riding puppy dogs,
This tree and ground my chair.
Horsehead whales
And heads of bores and boars,
Dragons and unicorns
The half-moon with me watched.
Whomever a woman chooses is the king.
No table round will ever square the thing.
All knights have equal access to the bread,
Even the stout are adequately fed;
Each squire gets equal pay for equal knighting.
Then Guinevere unsheathes the distaff lightning,
Uncoils her hair, so lustrous and inciting,
Plumps her lips with a berry crushed and red.
Whomever a woman chooses is the king.
Pendragon is ostensibly the.King.
And normally he doesn't miss a thing.
But Lancelot is naked in his bed
And Guinevere is humping him instead.
"No man above another" has a ring.
Whomever a woman chooses is the king.
Only one
of my assets
qualifies
as glory crown.
Pampered hair
plumps my ego
and has drained my pockets dry.
Permanents,
dyes and rinses,
cuts and sets
salon shampoos,
never missed
hair appointments,
as if it matters at end..
6/15/12
Crown of my Body..A Whitney contest
BIRTH
Just all of a sudden
From nowhere it seems
This fresh new force invades the eye
Circles the iris
Plumps the breast
Rides the living vein
Taking on its own peculiar color and natural voice
Thence to mind
Joining those unsolved mysteries
Finally only to be given up
With blind acceptance
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