Short Platoons Poems

Lazy rain mown lawn
plenty of falling light
You are my perfect pitch
you are my constellation

Heather on her heath
Damsels and dragonflies
Crossing the bar
There's a strange echoe
Platoons of Granddaughters
Eyes distracted...

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Platoons of imps march up and down my street,

Threatening mayhem if I don't give them a treat!

There are cowboys, Indians and phantoms galore,

Holding me hostage at my own front door!

They present their goodie bags for me to fill;

(Giving them an apple doesn't at all thrill).

Sure, they'd prefer a Reese's or Snickers treat,

But, by jove, I'm keeping them for me to eat!...

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Pretty soon
It will be pretty June
The city comes alive
With blooming blasting tunes
Gangster goons
And their lovely lady loons
Stirring violence 
Under the lunatic summer moon
Downtown pedestrian platoons
Hitting the nightclub saloons
Backrooms and thick exotic perfume
I can see everything
Without even leaving my room
In the evening clouded by medicinal fumes 
Hop skipping across giant
Floating nitrous oxide balloons...

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Idol is there seated plotting
cowrie shells baptized dollars
cow-hide suffocated with air
comfort women in their best
Cambridge fraternity with honors
commander with his platoons
sky-men in their spaceships
class room wizards with sleepy eye
Champagne , coca cola, carrots

These are the dying gods
that relax on high thrones
intoxicate conscience
roll away the Bible, Quran
and call on humanity
worship me, me, me alone
my kingdom I’ll give to you...

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