Too impassioned more forlornly flower, does the turning dais merit another brother from which hails the borderline snowy hail, that which emotes so white that one mistakes the ink for snowcones, the pen for flavor? I should only curse the forewarning of any haunted house the suitor exiled the forsworn blouse a billowing willow fades with time, time-travel indeed, two sick swines.
If I were to find my lost gem
cast among the filth of the swines
I would not hesitate
I would gather it into my trembling hands
with a gratitude too deep for words.
I would wash away the dust of exile,
polish it with tears and reverence,
and if fire were required,
I would not withhold it:
for even flame, in its mercy,
only restores what was alway precious.
But tell me,
how does one gather what death has claimed?
How do you cleanse what has been carried
beyond the reach of hands,
beyond the language of return?
For death . . .
has not merely taken,
It has silence a brilliance,
silenced a light,
hidden a treasure where love cannot follow in flesh.
And so we stand, empty-handed,
not because we would not restore;
but because this gem
has been lifted from our keeping
Into eternity's vault.
Indeed . . .
death has robbed us,
not of something ordinary,
but of a jewel heaven itself desired.
Till the resurrection morning,
when our loving Father will wipe every tear
and call forth His own
What a delightful moment, will that be?
All of you Parrotheads covered with oil
And feathers, and signs, and pins
— Jimmy Buffett (Margaritaville)
COCONUTS
Coconuts are bosom buddies
for some Parrotheads. The
twin cups (A, B, C, Double D)
pair up nicely with a grass skirt.
Margaritaville twines with
party swines. (if your in Oahu)
Coconuts can’t be breached
by hand. Skewer two,
for me and my love,
and slide in a straw.
Don’t let coconuts fall.
They can knock you out,
or revive your senses.
Especially true, when
your surrounded by
an army of ‘nuts,
on a tropical isle.
Drink them in! Palm trees
swaying, danger lurking,
especially on Gilligan’s Island.
I confess, I’m crazy
for coconuts. Don’t get me started
with coconut - cocktails, or flakes,
or shakes, on cake…
Not long will it be when the grass
Be nothing more than sand.
And forests through where rivers pass
Are but a barren land.
Not long until the songs of birds
Be just a memory,
And rats that dwell under the earth,
A last breath they will breathe.
Not long before the lion's roars
Be relics of the past.
And grasslands where the gazelles roam
Turn into wastelands vast.
Beasts that hide in machines' form
Purge lands with ruthless greed.
The human monsters that lives on
Their own kin they will eat.
Crops that serve their money lust
And buildings that stand tall.
Destroy what nature's given us
Make cannibals of us all.
A world that's run by selfish swines,
Corrupt and filled with lies.
The truth they bend and intertwine
All is money in their eyes.
Death is closer than we think
If we don't try to change.
The whole world in extinction's brink
Our forests must be saved.
We should learn how to coexist
And conserve what we must.
If not, our world will fade to mist
And be engulfed in dust.
Destroy all of your greedful hate
With love for mother earth.
The future in our hand's been laid
Preventing the great dearth.
Short Poem
Swines call me crazy and pigs call me mad
Very sad very sad and very bad very bad
This ain't gonna work because I am their dad.
Note. There are three lines in the Poem and nine words in each line.
Lesson. 3 x 9 = ?
Music is life
It's wavy Movement Excretes the beauty that gives healthy Nutrients to the soul
Which help us Grow beyond diminishing state of mind and also Reproduce minds that create more of itself to avoid Death
Music assumes the duty
Of connecting memories and state of mind
in an entertaining voltage that revives the heart
from comatose or the case maybe
When its waves hypnotize their feets and hands till it absorb their brains to move their body
while they wine and dine with their swines
they dance to the records of their mistakes
Music stone warlords
Same strings that got them to dance
gets their mind troubled
Since silence clutches amusement
when in the back of their wagon
Music waves, winds in sense from the chords of its note!
Behind his endless daydream, behind his boundless self-esteem, what's picking up steam?
Swines Capture Team, proceeding plans stacked ream over ream, as well as their seamless dragnet scheme.
Hush money he can pay, for impunity he can pray, Justice never looks the other way.
Futile his bark and bay, futile his bray, imminent his reckoning day.
Donald, a sham piece; dolt nerd is slammed apiece, by nemesis without ruth,
whether he flounders tooth and nail or nail and tooth.
Trump in trance, trumpery in truth, a big and bold gone goose for FBI to sleuth!
The lines have been drawn
The battle commenced
Each voter a pawn
Each party seems tensed.
They’ve argued the topics
All blurred the same lines
We muse on our prophets
Determine our swines.
Does one vote for their country?
Or just seek our own gain
Chasing lollies quite bluntly
Causing decades of drain.
You know no sweeties from strangers
Could ever end well
But in spite of the dangers
You’re tempted to kiss and not tell.
You’ve tried to do study
Policies, farming, and crime
Snatched beliefs from some buddies
Hell research on Facebook saves time.
Days to polling have dwindled
There’s claims of rich serving up poo
Yet when the economy’s swindled
Shucks, we’d work for a tranny named Sue.
Oh how the experts do surface
Daily their ranks seem to swell
Poems and posing’s are posted
It’s social media hell.
There’s calls for compassion
Never an end to the queue
Yet when they dole out the rations
It’s from my plate to you.
So we each vote for our promise
Mine? Well it really means well
To be frank and quite honest
I hope the reds go to hell.
Animal have funny habits
So mysterious and strange
I was watching one of my dogs
Having a poo
But before it did a merry dance
I found darting backward
Ad forwards
And round and around
Before it's bum finally hit the ground
But cats
They don't do that
Their smarter
But even more strange
I've seen them do this
Again and again
through my window pane
But not on their garden oh no
The little swines
But on mine!!!!,
They saunter down the garden
With their tails in the air
Looking so haughty and debonair.
Then they find their place
Look around in all directions
Making no one's seen them
Dig a hole
Look around again
Ad then
Perch themselves as on a toilet bowl
Finished they quickly fill the hole
And readily jump away
Acting as nothing had happened
Who me?
But they'll never say
Back to being haughty
But never
Ever naughty.
Peter Dome. Copyright.2016. May.
As long as its right in line with the knights
hindsight of the plight during the frightful night
of the fight thats not justified
to the blinded divines cry for the swines wine
While writing a fine sign trying to be kind
Give me the hardy breed that thrives in the arid wild
The tougher kind that walks with a sure unfaltering stride,
The restless heart that without fear the mountains roams;
Not the sissy softer variety that favors the mushy loams.
I need those manly swines with sun-burned sinew
Not the convenience-seeking boys stained with dew,
I reward the uncertain gambling of the wandering type
Not the sure stocks invested with opportunistic hype.
I have been here for years but a generation comes and goes
And yet some think they can predict me with their fake laws,
I read the speculative greed of fellows from a safe mile away
For my expansive experience spans a million years and a day.
I pick a man of valor from the faking crowds,
In his quiet among the city’s clambering sounds;
None can ever cheat my heart-scanning eye that sees
Beyond the snow-capped peaks and the roaring seas.
And my ears are ever un-waxed to listen
To the crackling labors of any gifted pen
That scribbles this account of my fickle nature
So men may know the traits that give me pleasure.
sawdust
the face of beautiful kiki
with the red rose between the teeth
p*ss multiplied to infinity on the sense pavement
take care. of the pigs
we were told
never stress them
the mistletoe just upsets the melefage
out of the drunkard's flat at the groundfloor
the azure light of the blue jelly fish
painted on the ceiling
scatters
the wife''s pain
she wishes it would stop
the crackling
the chairs would not be thrown against the walls
the windows would not break
the door would not be taken out of hinges
the baby would not wake up afraid
the neighbour from the groundfloor
p*ss a frantic protector of the swines
he discovered
that not only the electromagnetic waves
but also the sound vibrations of low frequency
can
cure the quadripeds of greedy violence
( translated by Margareta Mioc)
Why do you see me by the
colour of my skin and not
the depth of what lies within,
why do you blame the culture
I'm from instead of seeing me
as just a human, why don't you
research history and see my
success and victory through
slavery? I walk into your shop,
thinking I'm there to steal so
your security follow me like
I'm on twitter but no I'm better.
Don't snare me for my shade
because of your hate or other
bad elements, I'm eloquent and
decent. My greater parents did
the time, almost like they were
sentence to life, treated like swines
when it was just the colour of our
skin suffering the brutal torment of
your sins. I don't hate you, yes I
blame you, yes I would irradiate
the thoughts of your hate so
you'd have no reason to celebrate
and hate on my beautiful shade,
yet you sit in the sun to emulate.
Why!? Tell me Why!? Old lover!
Not of time not of the mind.
How could you leave me for black waters?
Crazy man! Who gave you eyes?
Eyes that are blind and can not see passed what is true and what is false.
A spot, a blemish I have none but surely these are what she has.
How could you forget I was your first!?
But still you let her go before me.
No different from all the swines and dogs that have run into my life only to find that they have run out from under me.
No surprise but do not cry for my tears will cover for yours.
Forgiveness I give but a excuse I do not wish to hear.
For there are no words to replace where your heart should have been.
Standing in line, I saw you over there.
Purchasing your ticket to the "Lust County Fair."
Your lips were locking at the County kissing booth..
Looking more like "exchanging of the tongues" than just a smooch.
On the ferris wheel, your hands where all over her.
You could be "her father" you old ugly buzzard.
In the "petting farm", I see your fittin' right in..
Amongst the other swines and swindlers bathing in their sins.
I hope you feel justified with your so-called young date.
I would not give you the time of day even with a "mail in rebate!"
You came over, pounding and kicking away at my door.
Seething with anger, no rain checks this time bud; it's over!
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