a note to my younger self
Never trust a love that rushes into
moments unaware of sacred things like
dappled sun and birds at rest in high tree
tops orchestrating springtime’s soon debut~
never trust a love that thrusts its sharp spike
into softened flesh to possess the key
that opens innocence to roguish rot,
that seeks to lock you in a cage of psych-
opathic greed and maniac decree
of monolithic sacrifice, give thought;
know yourself ~ stay free!
The time traveler desires to undo
the mess he made the first time through.
The kiss he stole rebounded like a dart
to lodge inside his blackened heart.
The more he stole the more he bled
like going downhill on a sled.
He hit the street and then the wall,
Time slowed down into a crawl.
Please, he begged, rewind this film,
truly I shall make amends.
I will marry her if once again
you grant me leave to begin
from when I caught her glance,
and then perchance
she will grant my wish
and give her kiss
to mend my roguish heart.
Sunlight Whispering
Early Sunday morning;
nature rattling at the front door!
I accept the invitation to bond,
stepping out with nothing more in tow
than an upturned collar
and a theatrical imagination.
The morning’s ground is well-baked pastry,
crusted with a shiver of winter;
sunlight whispering across the ground
all sharp colour and playfulness.
So I stride out, church bells skipping alongside
with light skating off in front of me.
Soon I am within reach of the beach;
my sandy sanctuary,
but nature is in a roguish mood,
its light fluctuating;
its moods shifting;
gloss turning to flat matt.
The sea offers up a cold, blue arm
encouraging me into watery depths
while the sky, heavy in thought, reclines
on a grey leather-weathered armchair.
Behind, peeking through clouded curtains
a new season waits to spring into action.
Ian Souter
Moving like moonlight
I am the OG silver surfer
Fleshwalkers, Dry Guys, Land Livers,
Have been around for,
What, 300,000 years?
Try 20 million years.
We eat stingrays.
Literally. For breakfast.
I have a 360 degree field of vision.
What's directly in front of me?
Don't ask.
Listen, Humanoids,
I'm delivering this plea
To your nearest post office.
Luckily I found a stamp
With my photo on it.
The plea is:
We are different from the other sharks
(Uhh: other sharks don't use post offices)
And are undeserved of their
Ruthless, roguish, reputation.
Yes, we are younger
Than our arrow-headed brethren
(Just 400 million years younger.)
But our brains are bigger.
Evidenced by our lack of interest
In Walky-Talky interaction.
Check your stats.
Us Real Heads are considered
"Shy" among you. Right.
You wouldn't believe
The number of karaoke
Joints down here.
The moon now
Has dipped down
From the world of air
While the sun has made it's rise.
I'm starting to tan in the shallows
A tad too much for my taste.
Stay safe, sentient skin slickers!
I must be one my way now
At 20-25 miles per hour.
As I walk down the narrow tunnel
In the solitude of Purgatory,
I see paper hearts lining the wall,
Like childrens' cut-outs, 'quite ordinary'.
Each heart has a penned name on its face.
I'm jolted seeing these memories----
Names of suitors I've known in the past,
Fascinating romance and reveries.
Their admiration fell on deaf ears,
And I left each one with a broken heart.
Promises given, in truth, I lied.
These loves forgotten, I sought a new start.
The last pink heart, I grabbed from the wall.
I recall his face and his roguish winks,
And the bike he rode to Adventure's call.
By Gosh, this last card has the name of Jinks.
Eight years ago, in February,
You jumped on your Harley and sped away.
Now I shout the words I'd failed to say,
"Have fun Jinks. Happy Valentine Day."
From you people would expect some reason
For an act that shows the way to prison.
It gets as far as act of treason:
The scarcely pardoned any season…
The finest weapon of Roguish Satan,
With it continues to Salvation ban:
“Fall down and worship me to claim this!”
“Shoot Kennedy right now for you can’t miss!”
Man’s reasons to God an Abomination,
You were a head you lost nomination:
“Saul: go and slay all the Amalekites”
And Saul saw reasons to redirect fights.
“So, finally, you’re divorcing your wife?”
“Honestly, her loud snores in bed a knife!”
Still Reason: Darling of Philosophy,
Though, I wouldn’t say loved by Theosophy;
A true child often robbed of its knowledge:
Begins to acquire it in college!
Once, I was there to check a tall Zaki
And it became reason to meet khaki,
Very clean but most offices tacky:
A cop could turn one into a lackey!
I know The Police is for the Nation
But I shan’t again a Police Station;
A world plainly paramilitary,
Safer, not better than Solitary,
In every station, obvious gyration;
Canteens that could serve one large ration,
The environment is quite sanitary
But should not clinch The Best Commentary…
Where one runs into AK47,
There holders more than Forty Seven:
Men who could catch rogues but their eyes roguish;
A lot of money make but still languish…
No good guarantee of non-harassment,
A chesty cough attracts embarrassment:
A fat envelope and one reports a case;
A much fatter one to clean and face!
BULINGDON BOYS
Bogus ! Bullingdon boys !
Engaged in chaotic noise,
raising cheerful voice
but not pretty sight.
All are out at night.
Bold Bullingdon lads !
Made basically mad,
Yet frolic and glad
but never to enjoy
with so called good boy.
Brave Bullingdon guys !
All male , not in guise.
No way to compromise .
Fanciful jolly roguish,
quirky, waggish, impish.
Bullingdon boys run wild,
belonging to stormy guild
Unruly and non disciplined .
Dizzy, whimsy, crazy.
In worthless job , busy.
Bullingdon boys do no harm,
Athough always raise alarm
and can’t bring any charm
to polished sophistication.
Absorbed in self satisfaction.
04/ 07/ 23
Bullingdon Boys
Contest by Joe Maverick
A land without a single crook,
Because criminals they don't brook:
They'd out fish them with a hook
Relying in their roguish look...
A District without a Half Crook
Battered eyes to one make a spook
And as unpleasant as damned gooks...
The criminal, without fail, cooks
First claiming that he lives took
Then, high time petty that you forsook
No one has got wings of rook
Nor in Vengeful World saved by Book.
Suspense is a thing worth not knowing
Dying for the knowledge of the mystery
From novice to brainiac ever flowing,
Slipping into the dark annals of history.
Shudders at the noise of victims’ crying
Suspense is a thing worth not knowing,
Keeping chilblains on the skin denying
Revealing information ne’er extolling.
Red herrings by the hundreds growing
In long heralded stories not so mastered
Suspense is a thing worth not knowing,
Fabled tales of untamed roguish bastards.
Best sellers from all leather anthologies
With black ravens and murderous crowing,
Translated to filmdom with no apologies
Suspense is a thing worth not knowing.
Written June 1, 2022
Those who want me to try robbery
Can kick-start it with bribery
Or get ready for snobbery…
And I’ve fastened it on a Million Dollar
Plus a dozen shirt with Golden Collars…
Or my tempters for the buzz off!
For problematic it is to bring one off:
Always the quickest stony grief
For the daring beginner thief;
A sure tolling of the gloomy bell
That shall my miserable story tell
By those who for mere roguish eyes kill,
Let alone a move to rashly steal:
My body to hungry blows resign
Plus my face they shall redesign!
shadow on wood fence
siting in the moon light there
stalks roguish mask moon
10/20/2021
When that mind of yours a vicious censor screams
“you can’t,“
every time you even vaguely contemplate some new adventure or perhaps that dream encounter,
you’ve been promising yourself and those you cherish,
to the point where even staunch social contacts start to wonder what’s going on deep down inside,
as golden junctures make their presence felt.
Be sure to reprimand this roguish ban on self-esteem,
say you are no longer having any of their nonsense, that the days for being obsequious are gone,
forever and beyond an infinitely lavish dispensation.
From this point on you are the captain of that ship which is your mind,
the crew which of course will be comprised entirely of a carefully selected band of pro-goal thoughts,
careful vet and check for just one purpose,
sole allegiance to your script,
those wishes leading to that wonderland enchantment you must always strive for,
the nirvana you deserve.
Things magical outside the normal human zone await one brave enough to spurn that loathsome inner bully known as doubt.
Date posted : 24th September 2021
Flower extract
On the body worn ahead of human contact,
A pressurized can preserving it;
With a vaporizing mechanism
That upon actuation gets friendly faces lit,
Further brightening the ones bought over by tribalism.
A liquefied fragrance for armpits
But also for arresting smells keener than a cesspit’s
And for the fortunate handkerchief
Of a folk alive to bad odour and its mischief.
To it a woman lends her neck,
Fully trusting the romantic havoc it does wreck;
A roguish sureness that some man against it shall brush
And a withdrawal from same not rush,
Lingered kisses planting there
With the whole world finding it just fair!
Perfume is by the fashionable grabbed;
During a kidnap, together with it nabbed,
The female habitual user letting out a frustrated sigh
After a shopping and she didn’t remember to it buy.
Now, he is fed up with his rubber pistol,
Irrepressibly itching for Hard Metal:
To every onlooker crystal clear
That Kingsley has drowned his fear
Of spraying bullets 360o degrees
And blood stains bestowing a black grease.
Whom we should reproach I knew all along,
For Kingsley’s now roguish eyes and song;
For I had his doting daddy warned
Against having a bull belatedly dehorned:
The folly of over-exposing him to toys
That would yield only Satan’s joys:
The slim chances of Kingsley’s young mind
Rightly guessing that he’s spiritually behind;
If it wasn’t some tasty, beefy meat
A special mind-blowing chocolatey treat
If not, milky juices you won’t find in town
Crispy wafers no one can turn down
If it wasn’t some eye catching software
About under-cover operations revealing a snare;
Some costly cell phones for men of title
And this GODDAMNED rubber pistol!
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