rootin'-tootin' misinformed opinions
a game of risk at an overflowing cafe
in t-shirts, shorts and straws all over the floor
napkins neglected and looking like bankruptcy on stilts
i feel like a torn out page of my own sulwicket
or rather the shade outside, with its erroneous
shaped patches on the cobblestones
and non-fiction that isn't getting us anywhere
tennis court blues and the man waving from
another court, who believes he knows us,
but actually doesn't, but i return the wave
at break point
and a student has written a creative piece
set in the wild west with a character called
David Bowie, who comes in two-thirds of the
way through the yarn
about to duel in the town's empty and only crossroads.
"ch-ch-ch-ch-changes!' PEW PEW PEW
get kettle on
Remember times when you spoke of “him” or “her”
Malice was in your words – perhaps a nasty slur.
You spoke behind their backs, in gossip you engaged
Things they did - or said - that had you so enraged.
Can you see the Assassin you became?
Your spoken words were NOT just a thoughtless game
Others to whom you speak repeat your nasty words
Once, then twice, and eventually into thirds
‘Tis not the person of whom you speak who has the fault, you see
But YOU (and others) who repeat phrases carelessly
There is a Day of Reckoning, and ‘tis you who will regret
Your words of assassination on others you beget
The nasty words you spoke with great malice and intent
Will return to you ten fold – and from God they will be sent.
‘Tis HE that you must face, upon your Judgment Day
I hope that I am there to hear what defense you think will pay
For all the vicious words you’ve said within your Life’s foray
And the Character Assassin that you’ve become today.
I was sitting on the corner, stoned
When out of the blue, my dead aunt phoned
How could this be, she rests in peace
Right beside my loving niece
I answered the phone, and my auntie said
"I know you think that I am dead"
"I'm alive"- my auntie moaned
Or- could it be that you're just- "Stoned" by Charles Messina
Niece Alice bakes brownies with magic herbs
She uses rich chocolate, and flour, two thirds
Before Auntie June gets out of bed
Alice feeds the cat and minds his head
She shared a snack and laugh with you
And now you’re happy and Auntie June is too
When auntie asks why your eyes grow and grow
You say “Go ask Alice, I think she’ll know”
Crossing The Line
Time
is a circle
Unbroken
ordained
Inside
or out
Your destiny
— claimed
***
When The Music’s Over
Faithful
to his demons
Jim walked the Rues
Paris
alluring
deception its truth
Consumed
by a fantasy
where darkness can hide
Alone
in the travesty
the drugs — and the lies
***
One Chance
Time waits
for no one
holding their breath
Hearts beat
in sequence
numbered till death
One chance
is given
no seconds or thirds
Fate
the addiction
— shaken not stirred
(Dreamsleep: May, 2026)
You turned on to your left side
There painted before me was your contour,
the resplendent lines of an hourglass
The rule of thirds composing the view
Your thick raven hair against the
pale linens in the morning twilight.
Strong movement from the back of your arm
Flowing, going down to the palm
and climaxing at the finger tips
With an aura of delicate benevolence
There was a single spaghetti strap laying lazily,
aimlessly over your olive skin, pretending to support
one of your breasts, Invisible to me
I wanted to run my finger along it but did not
The whole scene fittingly arranged
As if a great work was about to be born
A pose struck like a Waterhouse goddess
I wish I was he lying in this bed
This view has been within the artist scope
since the dawn of aesthetic sight
Yet it is to this beholder of beauty
as belonging to the one to whom I retreat
that becomes this morning's single tear
Let my feelings for you in this moment
be rendered upon this canvas
in the pensive hues and lines of my love
Let it be duly hung In the Museum of Reverie
from this day until there are no more lovers
A lawn full of weeds a mouth full of words,
clean them up leave behind the essential.
Floating through the air flying whirlybirds,
fragile can still gain control of that ball.
It’s okay when they’re broken in to thirds,
at times things need to stay confidential.
Fine image that conveys it’s kept after,
that eloquence was built to protect her.
My faith whispers bright,
Guided by the light,
God magnifies sousl,
Fills doubts and holes,
Seamless happy joy,
For each gal and boy,
Faithful do throng,
Hope lingers long,
Creed of Holy words,
Trinity in thirds,
Ancient, mystic, bright
Faith drawing me to light.
Dusting, as if Second Advent is Christmas Day
Entertaining, from abundance or for mere lack
Cooking with the crockery, banging out souffles
Eating thirds, doubling waistlines, seasonal pounds pack
Merry-making, sozzled so in the festive mood
Baking anything that has a beat, even snails
Expending on material goods till it's rude
Receiving presents, swapping cards and vintage tales
Gloria Dubbins - not much of a name,
but trust me on my judgment, gentle reader;
in terms of Beauty, she was Hall of Fame.
We’re talking – let’s see – nineteen seventy-two,
but I’m the keeper of the Gloria Flame,
and still to me she’s better, and more true,
than all your Taylor Swifts or Amber Heards.
She did the things that gorgeous women do -
in essence, nothing. Gloria had no words.
Intelligence? Commitment? Are you kidding?
For babes, that stuff is strictly for the birds.
She sat immobile and observed the bidding.
I’ll tell you this, but won’t apportion blame.
You, too, would be as motionless as cedar
if you’d been dealt her hand, to play The Game.
She’s not the kind you wound up talking to.
Her presence smote you with a sort of shame:
she struck you dumb: the words would not come through.
And Gloria didn’t gravitate to herds.
Perforce, she rowed her own sublime canoe.
Her beauty left her friendless, like the Kurds.
What was her view of Comus? Little Gidding?
I don’t have – no, I never had – a clue.
Enigma fits her. Easily two-thirds
of all the girls acknowledged her as leader,
but oddly she was Nothing Like A Dame.
So: thinker, “personality” and actor
are looking for a drink.
If two of them are trailers, one’s a tractor.
“Nice counter-top. Real zinc?”
“Don’t ask them stuff. They memorise words
of better men, to spout ’em!”
“And his type feels the need to gather herds
of sycophants about ’em.”
“There’s zinc in every human enzyme. Fact.”
“An enzyme? Qu’est-ce que c’est?”
“A catalyst which helps your gut react
a thousand times a day.”
Creators are the only ones who matter,
just them and only them.
Who grows, can know: who knows can grow (and scatter):
the human apothegm.
“The path from easy living? Slow decline
to reach death valley days.”
“Misfortunes? They’re all relative, and mine
are slight. I’m not from Grays!”
Who hasn’t done his share of Boogie Nights?
All wassail hours are zeros.
Two-thirds of humankind are parasites:
where should we look for heroes?
We have a thing now, called celebrity
that’s not the same as fame:
whatever ape forsakes the tree
can make himself a name.
The world, for entertainment, craves a schism
(Max Baer against Joe Louis):
but who foresaw the Queen of Capitalism
would be a Russian Jewess?
27 January is known as holocaust Liberation day
The liberation of the Auschwitz concentration camp
Systematic extermination of jews what can i say
The NAZI regime laying down its stamp
These awful acts carried out around Europe
People being murdered because of religion
No proper food starved of syrup
Living in camps like hells kitchen
6 million Jews exterminated
Two thirds of Europe's Jewish population
The smell of death permeated
It needs to remain in education
Why were the Jewish persecuted
It dates back as far as roman times
The warped idea of man concluded
The Jewish were alleged to commit crimes
The main instigator for this despicable act
The Final solution incitement off genocide
Was Adolf Hitler this is a fact
With his tiny mustache and eyes opened wide
The evil within him was totally absorbed
He compared the Jews to being germs
He wrote main kamph for the record
Antisemitism he took by the horns
Although illegal and somewhat outrageous
Hitler didn't invent antisemitism
Jewish persecution was around in the middle ages
This would now been known as racism
I can’t fit inside this lock
I can’t fit inside this sock
This hole is not meant for me
Body stretching out from me
Out of sync
Misshapen link
Wash the ink out in the sink
You went day and I went night
I went left and you went right
And everything just looks so wrong
I don’t understand this song
I am way beyond repair
My liver’s pulling at my hair
My neck is biting at my tongue
My leg is choking out my lung
My hands are fighting with my heart
My pieces mixing with my parts
I’m a jumble mumbled mess
An uneducated guess
I went no and you went yes
You went more and I went less
All tied up and all stretched out
I got lupus I got gout
I don’t fit into this mold
I’m too hot and I’m too cold
I’m lopsided and askew
You went red and I went blue
I went one and you went two
And I don’t know what I should do
Fool me once and fool me thrice
But now I’m chewing on the dice
Rattle brains and saddle lice
Grip my shoulder in a vice
Two thirds left and halfway done
Three makes ten and nine makes one
Now you’ve got me all confused
Now I can’t fit in these shoes
I think that I went too long
I think that I went too long
When a seedling, handsome wind caught my eye
and together we flew with the birds
Then, suddenly, I tumbled from the sky
found myself in a land of rows in thirds.
Other seedlings lived there and asked my name
Bashfully, I answered, "I don't know it!”
Then you're undoubtedly a weed—for shame!
I just knew I would never outgrow it
one day, wearing silk petals, I awoke
like magic,, I was lovely. quite fancy
The queen I became by masterful stroke
and I'm now known by the name of Pansy
First Place!
good-bye
summer
see you
next year
your turn
autumn
bring your
cool breeze
gleaming
light frost
do your
magic
changing
leaves from
green to
golden
red and
purple
see them
cascade
leaving
bare limbs~~
mums and
pumpkins
brighten
porches
kids in
costumes
trick or
treating
special
Thursday
when we
gather
speak of
blessings
feast on
turkey
autumn
now is
two-thirds
over
soon we
will be
singing
carols
Swirling, pulsing, and throbbing through air
came a cloud, not quite black, above my bed,
not closing my eyes and watching in fear,
Death would be easy but the cloud was my dread.
Looking closer, I viewed a darkening black spot
two thirds of the way down the visage's form.
It grew, spun, shrunk as though it were hot.
My head seemed electric as though in a storm.
I jumped from the bed wanting a fight.
The cloud backed away, I thought setting me free.
I grabbed at its shoulders holding on tight,
Saying Death take no one, but take only me.
I kicked the spot with best martial art,
thus causing the form to fold with a cry.
We tumbled to hell, there never to part.
I sacrificed life, and in hell I would die.
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