You prolly ain't know
But I bet you could of guessed it,
If love is a disease
I been infected.
Scared to tell you how I feel—
Fear I be rejected.
Gotta say something now
Cause my heart getting desperate.
Don't wanna search for the next,
Don't wanna fall back on my ex.
I know you got the message
But forgot to read the text.
Modest like a Toyota,
But to me you a lex.
for no reason
whatsoever.
All the little ways
and threads aligned
because I paid attention
to the ups and downs,
the lefts and rights
of the here
(a hot day in April)
and the now
(laughter on the trampoline)
while I write this
on my bed
and smile quietly
to myself
with gratitude
for a life that was gifted
to me.
I see me in the mirror
of my Toyota Corola
and my reflection
comforts me.
My middle-aged eyes
and unbrushed lose hair
look free and unfettered
by trying society.
A homeless man
crosses the road
on his bike, many bags
tied to it.
That could be me.
It might be, tomorrow.
I don't read magazines
or read the news.
All of that is already old
before it is new.
I am going to watch
the trees that will be here
before my life is done,
hopefully.
This was all theirs
before it was ever mine
anyway.
is in the angle
and light
from which you see them.
The sun can worm its way through
to untold detail
on an inch
of bark.
Hope isn't far behind.
I saw my first flowering Dogwood tree
this afternoon
when I picked Ben up from golf practice.
I arrived early so I could relax
in my car,
and not be rushed by life.
There was a purple and two white
flowering trees
in front of my Toyota Corolla.
I thought God must have put them there
on purpose for me today, as well
as those who chose to look out
at all the spring presents
that might not last until
tomorrow.
is like trying to find gold
in a bowl of white rice.
I found poetry
instead.
This one isn't a pearl
of wisdom or meaning,
but dirty truth;
a common rock,
cold and uncollected.
I listened to 'The Fray'
tonight, which I rediscovered
by accident
because I told Siri to play
'Two Step'
by Dave Matthews.
One followed the other
because I pay for Apple Music,
even if I drive a less-
than-sought-after Toyota
Corolla.
A man I love was once
a marine.
He doesn't know what he
wants hard enough to chose
a direction.
I know my North and South.
I have chosen true
West from East
and found myself
somewhere
in the middle of nowhere.
The Goo Goo Dolls
are playing one of my favorites,
'Better Days'
and someone else,
other than me,
is listening.
Shipwrecked
He was Japanese, smiled politely
and took his shoes off
I smiled also, it was the right thing
for us to do, shipwrecked sat
in a rubber raft of the type leaving
Tripoli
Libya, where we murdered Gaddafi
and made a mess in the smaller
states he helped
All this because Tony Blair and the
loathsome French president bored
money from Gaddafi but didn't
want to pay it back
We had harpooned a whale with
a pen knife and a cycle pump
but we didn't have soy sauce and
let the beast go
A blue balloon in a sea of calmness
The setting sun teased us, throwing
gold coins into liquid jade.
At dawn, the Japanese gave me his teeth
and swam towards the rising sun
I gave the teeth to an elderly shark
that, in gratitude, piloted me to Mandalay
where i met another loser selling
pink oversized bra, suitable as tents
for the bombed-out people of Gaza
green plastic buckets and Nottingham
scarf,
The Japanese sent me a postcard offered
me, a Toyota at half-price
Racial harmony is about
common respect
Confusion hits a club
That’s when some began to be confused:
When in their club new blood was infused,
Prayers for starting meetings refused!
Soon, Treasurer in Mercedes cruised,
On weekends a Toyota used;
Now, finance files for hours perused!
“Who has our twenty million used?”
Hurt voice responding to the hearts bruised
A Treasurer by query bemused
But sometimes about query enthused…
Next, separatists from what had been fused,
Freshly ticking time bomb long defused
‘Calls for an understanding’ abused…
Wouldn’t club’s foes with joy be suffused?
My Dream Date Over A Moonflower
She be a Toyota amongst Ferraris
Nondescript, simple, garden variety
A book with a plain cover
Yet with pages that intrigue
Pages that enlighten
And raises my eyebrows
And especially
A book that I can't put down
And want to read over and over
Unlike others
She'd take life slow
Definitely in moderation
Definitely with an eye on spiritual riches
Instead of materialistic gains
I see her heart skipping with joy
On slow walks around the park
Or taking a swim in the ocean
With both our eyes and hearts in harmony
And filled with laughter and warmth
Her eyes would say
"Let's Go Places"
... Some others would want a fairytale
Rome, Paris, London
Perhaps a candle light dinner under the moon
With romantic music in the background
But I would be happy finding that special one
That's swells with taking in a Chinese restaurant
In the slowest part of town
... sharing a moon flower soup
1/25/23
My Dream Date Poetry Contest
Sponsor-Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Phwwwwwhht!
Went the high pitched airy sound
From the tiny plastic whistle
And off the competitors raced
Vroom!
The car engines revved
One Male driver with a Mistress in Toyota
Another Female driver with no one in a Honda
Zap!
The race began
Toyota ahead
Honda Behind
Kakpum!
Came the screeching Honda sound
Like the bad guy's tires
In a cops-and-robbers chase
Shreeeerchhhh!
Came the halting Toyota Sound
As the driver and mistress go dumb
With hands above their heads
Phwwwwwhht!
Came the final whistle
The race ended
And none touched the finished line
Waah! Waah!
Came the sound of tears
From onlookers and the surviving competitors
As they stared deep into space
Hahaha!
Came the voice of the judges
Who adored the Toyota Driver’s Bravery
And Condemned the Honda Competitor
Boo!
Came the voice of condemnation
For the Honda Driver
Whom they tagged “Foolish”
Blames filled the air
For both the Toyota and Honda driver
But no one won the chase
So Infidelity remained
Bastard Car
The car drove along the block slowly
Looking for something but what?
Not from round here or the driver
Was the driver looking for his lost love
Or ready to kidnap another forced lover
He cruised along eyes picking out the gals
Not this one nor that one the one over there
Was he for real this guy in the Toyota
He's been to other towns doing things
Gals going missing hidden actions unpunished
One of a network doing the towns and cities
Looking for new trade send them to Mexico
Get paid then do them when they're spent
Hey it's only a gal why should we care?
Part of the events in this nation right now
Sanctions and okay'd from up above
The leaders take part and use them
Stolen gals for nefarious illegal fun
Then killed disposed never existed
Time and again it starts with a car
Driving by scoping out the gals
In his heart was an intense glow
After his seeming superb show:
An unsurpassed Philistine Throw
Until whistled “A Disallowing No”
That nearly javelin blood flow
Stopped from his head to toe
And a seizure wired like a blow …
Clear that a bank account won’t grow,
A once hot spirit is icy snow;
For all this rousing with the cock’s crow!
Now a bow is sick and tired of an arrow,
A once healthy Toyota awaiting a tow.
There once was a jerk from Sarasota
Who fondled a nice girl named Dakota
She sued him for cause
To control his paws
To avoid time, he fled in a Toyota.
written July 26, 2021
With a call like a Kuia,
the wail commenced our ride.
Gently bathed by mighties
Marama and Matariki,
our path lay clear and bright.
Ko Te Tohoraa, the nurturer,
hikers nestled nicely by her nipple.
Strolling on with Te Tohoraa,
on a breathless yet perfect stride.
Honoured journeys
both near and far,
are lovingly remembered with aroha.
Memories remain with such sunny smiles,
and a staunch salute to
Te Tohoraa.
______________________
Ika Moana: Traditional name for a Whale.
Kuia: an elderly woman, especially a female relative or ancestor.
Marama: Clear, light, moon.
Matariki: Matariki is the Maori name for the cluster of stars also known as the Pleiades
Te Tohoraa: The Whale. Also, the name affectionately given to a 1998 Toyota Dyna - campervan that I recently had the utmost pleasure of driving (and holidaying) for 1300km. Hence this tribute!
Aroha: Love
You think all I ever need is a full tank of gas
But my old fenders and taillight need repair
I grow weary of the way people stop and stare
Whenever I sputter and belch as we pass.
No proper chick will ride in my torn front seat
The evening was a total waste of my time
I should not complain, it was not on my dime
But, please, could you turn down the beat?
I’d hoped we might run into swell-built Christine
With the high-end Chrysler rear-end jack job
But you persist thinking you are the real heartthrob
While neither of us approaches being pristine.
You might grow into a reasonably handsome hunk
And luck out with a good job, two gals on your arms
Do not worry about me, I won’t sound any alarms
By then I’ll be only the remains of this pile of junk!
written May 20, 2021
for "Personification Poem 150" poetry contest
sponsored by Caren Krutsinger
HONORABLE MENTION
"Personification - Comments" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Evelyn Cheung
All Poetry
Growing are the grumbles
By a Gathering of Humbles:
A skyrocketing effort to change an unchanging Dinah,
In figures, now closely chasing the population of China:
The grumbles, a fast succeeding siege against the judge
Now set to hit Justice where it hurts…
The earlier mumbles a saintly grudge
Whose holder unrestrainedly blurts.
A wig is helping an untiring lawbreaker,
Scheming to the wrong guy dump in rancorous jail;
One hell of a faking hostage taker
Juggling with sacred laws and trying to not fail!
Now, it’s an uncannily crappy proceeding,
All the jurors alive to the misleading:
The not guilty to soon watch the outside world from Dark Keyhole
The veritable Child of Judicial Remote Control.
Now, the grumbles are preaching
A second long look at the interpreter,
The earlier mumbles alleging a bewitching
Of the chosen typewriter;
The mumbles also cocksure of a garage
Groaning under the weight of new Toyota Cams
The grumbles amplifying to barrage
Judge’s recent receipts of Justice-perverting big yams.
The glide of the plane almost in step with my rooftop.
Visibility of blue heaven low; lookout for earthwalkers.
My bland Toyota euphoric and banded by tight forest.
The span of an angelic chorus, a serendipitous psalm.
The predilection of dawn, a tributary hawk sails on.
The silver cross shimmies and shakes reflected in mirror.
I steady it with my heartbeat, my smile, my faith.
9/25/2020
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