.
are hopefully
different scantiez
colour
or not
Skirts
With comforts,
Hollandia Yoghurt flirts...
Before each tongue diverts,
From the usual that alerts,
The change to an impromptu concerts,
In different stages of many a song asserts
Except for the atmospheric dive,
Our faces depict the shared skirts
Without sweet scents, breaths hive
Swaying gallant statues in style alerts
High concentrated inebriant consumed
Took our legs lightly easy leaning back
Subjected to change of hits well costumed
Our voices disown its pitches to its crack
Introduce us to the people we know not
And we mingle like been known for ages
It wasn't true but lively moment grown hot
Speaking truthful lies unlike most sages
Happiness
Staged liveliness
Interrupt able orderliness
And introduce apt funniness
In order to promote calmness
Actively seeking to warm night dizziness
Through the beauty of tease staggering fitness
Of our hearts pouring out raw felicity's queasiness
Her skirts lands against her springy step in a pretty way
Swirling around her luscious legs with an extra sway
She’s an old- fashioned woman, our Linda Lucy May Kay
Wearing silky nylon hose nearly every single day
Sailors all along the channel and down the bay
Will testify to what I have observed and now say
Her swishy skirts often lead their old eyes to stray
She is a snazzy dresser, our gorgeous Linda Lucy May Kay.
How like Eliot it is in tone.
Even the landscape has the grime
of London in each line. I must have been
no more than nineteen when I wrote
the poem caught in the spell of his hypnotic
rhythm and rhymes.
The bright, clean air of my home
was seen through the filter
of a foreign fog, his soulful exhaustion
washed a gray tide across my youth.
He stood as a monument in whose shadow
nothing could grow.
Prufrock haunted the back alleys
of my mind, a rebel almost in the guise
of a comic. He was hardly me
in a world of pub rock and cold beers
on lazy, sun drenched Aussie afternoons -
no rolled up trousers but instead,
reefers, flared pants and mini skirts
and a future balanced on the whim
of a conscription ballot
hanging over my head.
But why the short skirts
Dear African ladies
Yet you know the lines
On your stiff legs
Short skirts are not meant for you.
Why don’t you let the whites
Put on the short skirts
Because God blessed them
With juicy legs.
The shame is enough
Lets respect the African dress code
Before we become headlines of newspapers
Short skirts A disgrace.
The hem of her skirt,
Billows,
With her fond sweetness,
As she upon her stilletos,
Balances,
Within,
A diamond stillness,
Her hem,
Sighs,
With a nostalgia,
Of romance,
In the undulant wind,
Waves of surreal petals,
As the moon,
With its exotic flowers,
Singers,
And dancers,
Blush,
With a serenity,
Of rhythms,
That kiss,
With adorations,
And loves,
Firmly tender wings,
Her Beauty and hems,
Vast loveliness
Reynaldo Casison
Scars and those Skirts.
And ! At the closing while the waves break, causing tables to rock the bubbled hood off your cappucio, and the sound dipping, a stranger picks up a shell, from the frothy foreshores and gently presses it to their ear, releasing comforting pink noise. A tricolore gestures in the early morning breeze. There are only shadows laying in the shade of boats, no skin lovers, that are restless for nautical distances. The wrapping swirl, of cloth soothes the suns bitting teeth, Away Africa peeps beyond the clouds afar on that magic line. And the weight, of the ever days, subsides. But scars show in your expression..
Zucchini fritters
Shrimp and Salads
Noodles with olive oil and Lemon dressing
Orange Layered Cake w/ buttermilk frosting
Grilled stuffed Rainbow Trout w/ sausage and crab
spaghetti and meatballs
toasted garlic bread
texas clover leafs ( Hawaiian flavor)
Ole South roasted pork belly with creole and spanish seasonings
chicken, aparagus and mushroom hot dish
Raspberry puree with club soda ginger ale and sweet white wine
Sweet white wine
mango Sweet( white wine with Mango juice)
Rain is a gypsy we once knew,
singing her melancholy songs.
A restless nomad, quickly flew,
left crystal tears to wish upon.
Swirling skirts in dry river bed,
rain is a gypsy we once knew.
Danced in trees near a watershed,
as she coaxed clouds to spill anew.
Lassoed an early breeze that blew
her perfume followed where she went.
Rain is a gypsy we once knew,
yet precious raindrops she but leant.
We wait for her to ride in skies,
a flash of skirts in lilac-blue.
Lightning afire in silver eyes,
rain is a gypsy we once knew.
August 30, 2022
get yo Trick way from the Phunk
she already Phunky enuff!
smoke those cigars
don't forget to puff
This Trick is already
phunky enuff!
Aint no pants able to
contain this Phunk
This Trick is Phunky Enuff!
wearing a skirt
you can see the Phunk
she get's mad and
call's you ah chump!
what you made for
the phunk is what made you
swang and sang yo sound
groove wit me baby
don't get so mad
music make you get on down
Tell that trick
she can't contain her Phunk
Cause already Phunky enuff!
Light yo cigars
I'm pregnant Baby
the Woman is Phunky Enuff!
A boat in a coat cannot build a moat in a train station. For static stationary steams steamships. Like a cruise in a shower bowl. Now please mind the gap in the floor when getting into the bath for bathing brings beauty and beauty is building bridges in a basket. So all march around and around then. Arch the ma y flying fish and catch them one by one. Weigh a ton don't they? Well fortified fries us a daring act of culinary creative charm. Wow. Couplet and rhyme dancing to a nice neat poem like an apostrophe waltzing with a full stop. Hahaha banana bread and peel soufflés served on a bed if carrots and peas. Xxxxxx combinational. Z
its be soon
under the moon
you sit and gloon
as the go by
in the eye
stay tune soon be june
you get very alert
like a jerk
you just look at thoses
girls in
MINI SKIRTS
its a turn on
as they walk alone
some on cell phone
they chat
about this and that
it a real sex appeel
SKIRTS AND HIGH HEELS
At times, I might be in the mood for a skirt;
On other occasions, it’s pants.
Having such options, I needn’t alert
Anyone to my pick in advance.
I like wearing skirts – they feel flirty and fun
And remind me of dressier days.
When my working career I had newly begun,
I was part of a skirt or dress phase.
For I wasn’t permitted to dress up in slacks;
Females had to look proper and prim.
We accepted it then, though at present it smacks
Of the rules many women found grim.
But today I can wear anything that I choose
And in skirts sometimes I find my voice.
I feel sorry for men, ‘cause in this case they lose
For they aren’t allowed the same choice.
you are
happy.
like a cupcake in frilled paper.
skirts and pants.
c-_-s
fat and serviceable.
blonde dye job behind bathroom doors.
mama let the boys run trains on you.
fell down the stairs.
emergency rooms all too familiar.
everything is your fault.
stop whining. youve done this before.
d-_-s.
it doesnt have to be your world.
too often it is.
balding.
whisky in the glove compartment.
lost temper. lost self.
say sorry
to your
sister
wife
mistress
mother.
sex, gender.
the lines aren't well defined.
you are
sad.
alive.
corrupted.
an *******.
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