Short Weepers Poems

No one is death , yes...
Happiness can be you, peace
And joy can be him. 

Suffering and pains
Can be her , weepers can be 
Them on earth planet. 

We can all be love 
And live peacefully in 
Our communities. 

June 23/2023...

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Hey! How come you're using my Banderella cook?
                      It's mine now. I found him in my wife Liza’s nook
                                           Finders keepers,
                                           Losers weepers.
                   Use tenterhooks and cook your fatty goose in  gook....

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Jeepers creepers can’t believe your peepers
Sweepers keepers jumping josey leapers.
Gleepers fleepers dallying with sneepers.
Reapers heapers willful wonder kneepers
Sleepers greepers foremost firstly weepers
Deepers sheepers giving golden fleepers
Cheepers zeepers living with grim reapers
Jeepers creepers can’t believe your peepers...

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Jaded unbecometh truth
forlorn thee heart being torn
madness of the reapers might
sadness be the weepers night

Darkened wings of night befalling
upon tear stained pillows comfort
dread is read as blood flow bled
as life becometh hard misread

Journey's other trail of tears
releasing all that one once fear
love is dear,as also near
cleaning what was once a smear.........

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~

He was mine.


Unbeknownst to the man, he was mine

He had found me,

And I go by the ironic phrase "finders keepers, losers weepers"

So he was mine

A glistening drop escapes my eye,

Shocked,

I quickly blink..and the moment is gone.


I wasn't quite sure,

Was this lonely tear a result of joy, relief, sadness?


Or was it just my imagination running wild....

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Weepers with hoods —
tear-stained, faceless.
Dirge monks with shields.

Knight of the golden fleece
on a slab in requiem.
The silent mouth of Cicero.

Fell in love with this funereal piece
— Tomb of Philippe Pot
with life-sized pleurants.

His hands steepled in prayer,
a lion in repose at his feet —
Grand Seneschal of Burgundy

9/28/2020
Tomb of Philippe Pot
Louvre Museum...

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I am amused and wonder why
we need six strong men when we die.
Some even specify with pen
the ones to be their six strong men.

We don’t need men when our lives end
and to the grave, our weepers wend.
Far better to have six befriend
when life is tough and cares attend.

So please my friends choose wise your six
who are trusty, and strong as bricks.
A servant true be ready too
to help those who reach out to you....

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Trust Again


Why doubt now, when in the past your trust has been your strength?
Why doubt now, when knowing love will prevail at length?
Why doubt now, new promises, new hopes will be in vain,
When doubting still you cannot see the love that's there so plain.
Face the future smiling... weepers never win,
Make up your mind to trust anew,
Forget about past sin.
Forget the hurt,
Forget the pain,


Remember love, and love again....

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Most of these smiles are fake
Smiling back is the best you can make
They open their mouths not for your sake
Wonderful smiles, aren't they?
Sometimes I wonder, what if they,
Do not have a mouth
How could they fake?


Most of these tears are fake
Let it not your emotions shake
Great weepers, the best they can make
Moving tears, aren't they?
Sometimes I wonder what if they,
Do have no tears
How could they fake?


Stop believing
It's time to wake...

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I pluck hair out of my head, 
have been for weeks. 
Black hair

Real depletion. mind has been dead for days. 
So I say, let the weepers cry another day. 

Ill catch myself

the mind that falls. 
Ill swing my arms before she breaks. 
Oh I will, 
I always do or will this be the last towel with shit smeared across it.
the last hair plucked the last tobacco chewed. the last screenplay to finish. 

Ill catch him, I always do. 

finish the damn deed, write and write and breathe....

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