Inherited
severance
The saddest
probate
A wasteland
of love
A garden
of hate
A dark
segregation
Divorced
in our bane
To separately
covet
What little
— remains
(Dreamsleep: February, 2026)
I don’t wish
to be studied
just
to be read
Where daydreams
long scripted
danced round
in my head
With words
humbly gifted
each phrase
probate free
To those
in whose honor
my best
— I bequeath
(Dreamsleep: October, 2025)
Mommy and Daddy left everything to their favorite child, Bruce.
Bruce is also their self-centered, selfish child, but they did not see it.
Bruce came to visit once a year; he was their prodigal son.
They adored him, he was their everything.
Their daughter Sarah sat in disbelief at the probate office.
When had the will been changed?
She had taken care of her parents all of their lives.
Bruce now owned her home, she would have to move.
She asked if she could buy the house, but he said no.
She asked for her mother’s pearl necklace.
And her Daddy’s plaid jacket.
Two more no’s from the prodigal son.
there there personality
now and why
soldiers find when its you
who needs to stop
when you support me
on anothers list
and you figured
buttons at home
on a couch
missing me
can't relay the rate
price perfect admission to fate
how checkmate louds
in feathered quills
history and castle
my water is salts
salts black
atlantic and cracks of thatchlings
woven networks or earth
butter churning dreams of toast
and meaning something
young liberty
learn crying and dying's language
she and her heard's probate at gavel
stigmatic, reverent and observant
monochrome
The interchange
of reluctance
waiting in the queue
Permission caught
in temporal probate
affirmation skewed
One last chance
unbegotten freedom
living in between
The will to choose
nothing left to lose
— as red lights turn to green
(Dreamsleep: June, 2024)
A cracked windowpane. A few daffodils peek their heads through the weeds that grow tall where flowers once smiled. Purple nettle chokes the life from any grass courageous enough to try to stand in its way.
Birds tweet their dismay
the feeders are all empty—
No signs of life here
A second is defiant
a minute is aggressive towards my dreams
flourishes a formidable mental anarchy
I creep confidently by the tail of a second
To the dejection of sympathizers
The patience of my sympathizers tires me
Waiting for the minute of abortive strife
Anticipated steps abrogated
Triumphant move trails the second
When fear surrogates confidence
Hope carries away the receiving end
Pain being exacerbated by giving
To bond the two sides
For passionate diffusion
Carrying hope together
Sending waves beyond normal.
The prologue was so pulsating
With punitive ideas meant to probate
pummeling the frail wasn't prolific
the effort of maternal Ponto punch,
but made it abreast with the potent
pseudo abrogate of stitch made it puck
the accord was to prelude penal
disloyalty chastens from pudenda
we swore the cause by purity
now we stand exhibiting
enjoying our terrifying purl
The estate of Ambrose Rose is released from probate.
To receive their inheritance, the stooges can't wait.
Ichabod Slipp is the executor holding the money.
What this crook is doing to the stooges isn't funny.
Each one gets a beating from Slipp in an altercation.
On a night train is where Slipp has made a reservation.
Moe, Larry, and Shemp board it for a confrontation.
Are you curious about where this story will go?
All you have to do is watch the video.
Based on the 1947 Columbia Pictures short subject "Hold That Lion"
starring the Three Stooges.
I have opened the door of adventure,
A flood of emotion I'm assured.
Fear and grip in measures,
But I have chosen the hardest course,
To reach the glorious altar.
••••
Probate I treasured,
A policy of treason I shun.
Many times in my dreams,
The crusts itself,
Comes knocking,
But I've long lost the keys to my innermost fear.
••••
I have saddled my horse,
With whips across the valley's of grip.
With whims I trod the throne of thorns,
That loses their teeth against me.
The Art of the spoken word
Is east
Jerusalem
Ornate
Probate of the money lenders
Who tender purity and security
For a price
Gods children are willing to pay
Because they are the sheep
On which the idol's seek
Prohibition
The body and the blood
Never knowingly
Roots are tales
Into the afterlives
Slave's integrate
At the table of former master's
Free at last
Free at last
If only my children could see me now
It would all be worth while
My Child
Things About Trump
Things about Trump are well understood
Has completely entered his second childhood
By his bad behavior you can always tell
When you will listen while sitting for a spell.
Like clumsy child Trump is known to act
And never get together a well known fact
Never saw likes of him being subdued
To your life brings trouble beginning a feud.
Once of Trump you have seen latest statistic
He went ballistic when called chauvinistic
And when you see a face like his in a file
No wonder they wanted to put him on trial.
Do you know what for we can hardly wait
When his will they finally started to probate
Which really caused and created a scene
Tax returns had resulted in a ruptured spleen.
Jim Horn
My Bonnie who does lie over the ocean,
have you been laughing at this one yet.
caused by all the comprised commotion
Do wish to inform you with deep regret.
Been eating medusa dates
Lovely fat juicy ones
I ate and ate them
Oh my they were so good
Why does my stomach feel *****
I thought the next day
Oh my! to the bathroom I ran
and sat , and sat and sat
Dare not leave, was in a quandary
The estate agent was calling in an hour
My mam needed a price for probate.
The smell lingered , Febreze Air, or the external fan
Couldn't remove it.
The doorbell went, I went out the back door
Left my mam to apologise, to this day
I do not eat fresh dates.
Beware of things fat and squiggy nice to eat
Can lead you into a foul smelly time.
Penned 29 April 2015
TOWARDS A PERFECT WORLD
Many times I renegade
My heart, my mind and my whole being
Escaped from a jungle
Where I myself is a sacrifice and alone
Indifferent and at times
Out of legitimate and unknown.
But though I broke
From a cell I’m happy and free
I am holding now those tears and courage
To redeem from that trauma to probate
Towards a senile and rationale one
Hopefully to better side of the universe.
A rebel with a cause
Of libertine’s aspirations, hopes and loves
That I know I’m sure
Someone out of nowhere
Looking too for a longing mate
And together through sand dunes
Will trek to a perfected world
Where human understanding delve.
Okay, for Christy, who I could never refuse;
Do you have to be fat to have a large intestine?
I'm afraid to ask what kind of dance they do in Lapland.
Dripping pan- a pan that leaks.
Is a plebeian a female striving to join a gay organization?
Quibble and Bits- arguing with the grocer over the price of dog food.
Subhuman- a sailor on a submarine.
Monkey wrench- forcefully pulling a chimpanzee that is holding on to it's cage.
Betty Crocker- a woman who's cookbook if filled with pathological lies.
Prodigy- a young person exceptionally talented at poking people with a stick.
Probate- a lure to attract professional roaches.
Scattering spellbound in search of this utopia
Minds-eye in shortfall dissects one's monopoly
Through no choice of own approach it sloppily,
Exude to a position such promised, Ethiopia-
As the diminishing dream on landscapes ensemble
The probate illusion of Queen of Egypt's daughter
Who proceeds through this escapade of slaughter
And who am I forgiving one or either? I tremble.
Having reached two thousand years without absorb
Of having travelled miles, indeed was bronze;
Such ghastly size these statues, long lost sons
With indications seen through my crystal orb.
Precious filling educated, siphoning the syllable
Retracted.., words of larger scale were of faith
Those who muttered sounding, Queen Merneith,
-Alluring dynasties as Anedjib's was, as a fable-
Engulfed over as subsidiary benefactors cannibal
Over some archaeological find, for at the centre,
No godly size can interpret that this magenta,
Haze of gross sufficient was the alluring spectacle.
Expedient gauge eclipse this as the inferno;
And making this voyage with the help of a globule,
Whose crystal awareness has forgotten the rule,
That language hosts devise quoted, 'quid pro quo'.
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