Much More Horn Haiku
to earth plane did dive
no one had remained alive
or else would survive
plane was ill fated
home in heaven place created
they were belated
what we heard them say
there are those who they call gay
who will stay that way
Putin is cunning
in Florida they are sunning
in Ukraine running
had been a huge cost
counting those injured or lost
on field snow with frost
shooting in the blind
to a halt want them to grind
then have peace of mind
town was torn apart
they had destroyed WalMart
wheeled things in a cart
in our mine must bare
at all Putin does not care
ever being fair
love to hear her sing
pride in country back bring
still can feel the sting
conditions preexist
had to add them to a long list
which we must resist
Bombastic… So grandiloquent
We are stated to be pompous asses.
Therefore, our outcry is heard.
2017 is over.
We are ready to bring in the New Year when the clock hits eleven.
One more hour to go.
Yet, time is moving too slow.
So, we party!
We are dancing and singing our favorite songs.
Illumining where we are demonstrative and high-flown.
Magniloquent… So bombastic
We are as plain as eyesight.
Our excitement is not pretentious.
We ready to blow minds.
2018 is the year to overcome the barriers that preexist.
It is time to move on and the past is history.
This because we are futuristic.
Orotund in the New Year with laughter and good will.
__________________________________________________________
Written at 8:40 PM EST on 12/31/2017!
Happy New Year!
God creates life for artists imaginations
To fill in colors, missing parts with no mistakes
Tangibles become open, solid, clear
Aged by the absence of interpretation
With so much space the rest is left up to us
Where less is more
Persistence initiates
No desire or permission to preexist
We simply are when time comes out to play
What is that repetition in the woods
With proportions measured out
The warbler knows no other song but rain
Again to follow it on wet branches
Or on grounds it wobbles about to drown
Moving on with no doubt from where it came
The honey badger staggers awkwardly
A chance to find a mate perhaps
Hiding underbrush at closer range
You know that it is there intuitively
By the invisibility conjectured vacancies
If only memory would listen
Let artists fill in the empty spaces colored
Allow God to do his job as well
. BUCKET LIST
Early dawn I find myself,
wondering about my health.
Journey, through the morning mist,
overwhelmed about the reason I exist.
Without thinking of my past,
worried my future will not last.
All my life I have reminisce,
at what age to start my BUCKET LIST?
First, I will work on getting my tickets dismiss.
Then I will take a trip down to the dentist.
Call up them guys who got me piss,
punch them one by one, with my fist.
I do not wannabe be an old geezer skydiving.
I want to live my old age surviving.
I might be brave enough to climb a mountain,
maybe I will bungee off the Niagara fountain.
Checked out that bump that everyone thinks is a cyst.
It will be to late, if the army wants me to enlist.
If I want to travel far,
on my list I will add a brand new car.
I will enjoy eating all the fried food, I resist
even if it brings me closer on DEATH’S LIST.
Close the door to my demons who at once preexist.
Before my family thinks, I need another exorcist.
Thinking how I never did any of the above got me piss.
I will just wait another 35 years to start another BUCKET LIST.
for contest