The knee-higher
feelings that are displayed are not feelings but atoms; the subatomic part being that its heart, this knee-higher, is located in the mind or the dexterous venders and ventures of reading and writing personal stories of literature. The knee-higher is only an apparition, a thought placed into the minds of Man, of what its seemingly harmless, innocent veering thought of making a peanut butter sandwich can leading to global hunger or a Holocaust.
oh, vay, it be man that hold THIS fires, this knee-higher, of silken flesh and bone, being only a phantom of the Dream, and a warrior of Ruin to behold...!
Chocolate Covered Cherries
How ooey gooey good
Oh how I love the sweetness
Chocolate never tasted so good
Only one is not enough
Love them as I do
And I await them anxiously
Then buy and hoard a few
Eaten on the sly
Chocolate Covered Cherries
Only once a year
Venders put them on display
Enticing far and near
Really never see them
Except at Christmas time
Don't share the last box
Chocolate Covered Cherries
Here but for awhile
Each confectioner's delight
Really makes me smile
Rich and smooth so very sweet
Inside a hidden cherry
Eat them slowly, make them last
Special luscious treat
Tommy fell off his bike and broke his bum
When he set off to find a new one
Big, tall, or one size fits all
A man he met at the mall,
offered a new bum but for a large sum
Tommy looked here, there, and everywhere
Even the stores where they sold underwear
To venders who had his back
But his bum still had a huge crack!
Something was still wrong, how very unfair
His bum was so noisy it brought him shame
It made weird noises and he got the blame
Tooting, hooting, and squeaking
when anyone started speaking
His bum sounded like a video game
When he discovered he had the loudest,
his talent made Tommy the proudest,
A butt trumpeting bold,
better than a pot gold
His sound-system backside, the best!
Sonic blasts when Tommy bent over
He picked a perfect four-leaf clover
A gas that blew him away
well into St. Paddy’s Day
A blast heard from Dublin to Dover
The Rustic Crusts of Manna
Davie J Walker
I am the one who stripped the
Sponsor from my jersey
And the number meaning nothing
But an identity recorded in a dry book
Making me invisible to the
Odd gods of your reality
You speak my own language
In ways that defy life or death
Or the direction of the Sun's path
In the aftermath of its
Examination with the
Illusions of reality strewn in the
Branches of Stone Pine on the
Appian Way to Rome
Here we may pick our own
Venders of the streets
And eat the sweet ideal on
The rustic crusts of manna
It is here that we should speak freely
For who will interpret our intentions
From separate graves
ECONOMICS
Grunt, from the hunt,
Has more than he can eat.
Groan, maker of tools of stone,
Trades a spear point
For a fat leg joint.
Moan, who sews skins
Traded for an ax sharply honed
And a nice shoulder bone.
But when the tribe grew big it was seen
That something was needed in between.
And decided to use pebbles,
Those special with a sheen
Given a value that could be seen.
Much later things sold
Were bought with gold
Leading to goods venders
And money lenders.
Paper bills and coined copper
Required there be a safe place proper.
Thus banks were formed so
Money could freely come and go.
The bankers loaned money in a way
That they knew the debtor could repay.
Or did they?
No! these fools
Broke basic economic rules
And collapsed the banking system
With greed and lack of wisdom.
Now we have to pay.
Money corrupts.
Maybe pebbles were a better way.
Picked up first by man in cave
First graffiti for stories they crave
Used by First Nations fire and trade
Wagon wheel trails new comers forged laid
While miners dug deep under the soil
Horse buggy venders many did toil
Stored in homes and sold street to street
Easier lives this was the feat
Used to fire the engine for steam
Steam powered ships imagine the dream
Shovel by shovel strong men did heave
Black coals value like diamonds believe
Black diamond coal was driving a nation
Rail to rail connecting each station
Put to good use to stoke the industrious
Building up future future Illustrious
Jobs were created with easy combustible
Into the furnace producing industrial
Heating giant cauldrons ore in a pot
Producing the steel we need a lot
Fossil fueled war one and a two
Quickly after technology grew
Tiny black diamond magical rock
Picked up by man not only chalk.
8/3/16 for black diamond contest
Used to live in
Strasbourg:
9, Quai de Paris.
The piers in that
city
Were on canals.
Window flower boxes
On Alsatian cafes,
Choucroute garnie
entres
With onion tartes.
Venders sell hot
chestnuts
In Orangerie park.
I'd sight-see after
dark
La Petite France.
Notes: Choucroute
garnie is sauerkraut
slow cooked with
Riesling white wine,
potatoes, ham,
sausages, and
cloves. Tarte a
l’oignon is also an
Alsatian specialty.
La Petite France is
the canal district
that had many
tanneries which now
are tourist shops
and high-end
restaurants
Hanging baskets swing in sunshine.
Troves of lilacs everywhere.
Venders open down the line.
Boiling peanuts permeate fresh air.
Hundreds of flowers revel in beauty.
Some plain but many exotic.
So cheap of price, I feel it my duty.
To buy a few, and do, wouldn’t you know it.
Usually, too many, before I notice
how light my wallet gets, unless I use debit.
Then I’m looking for space in every crevice
of my car, truck or van; by then I’m on credit.
But what’s money. Usually gone, nothing to show.
Life is too short to not have some pleasure.
We're here for a while, then, too soon we go.
Satisfaction from beauty is the real treasure.
© Jan 2011 For Francine's "Bring on Spring" contest
The sun drenchs and heat soaks the air.
It throbbs with fumes.
The drivers of the three wheeled, canvas covered
taxi’s curse, beep, and press
their way between motor cycles
with garishly clad riders.
Males in western-style helmets
drive women, dressed in peacock-colored saris,
down the main boulevards between
the Mercedes of diplomats and
the Range rovers of the wealthy Western usurpers.
Upon the cracked concrete edged sidewalks
lined in a herringbone pattern of bricks walk bird venders,
whose baskets of finches, parrots, and macaws tweet wildly.
The baskets upon their shoulders swing.
The noxious fumes of the traffic apparently insufficient
to quell the beating of their small hearts.
Shop keepers hawk fly covered, freshly butchered chickens
from dirty white porcelain surfaces;
as tomorrows dinner pecks seeds through
the floors of their wire cages.
Through and amongst the plethora of colors and noise
military and police in mundane blue with rifles mounted
on the rear of their vehicles pass by.
Ordinary citizens hack up spittle from raw throats and congested lungs
while horns blare continuously;
blending with the barks of hundreds of stray dogs.
8-3-2005.
With the crack of the bat,baseballs seem to
fly and float over my glove!As i step back
near the wall,this round like orb
approaches furiously from way above!
I take a long jump,and stretch out my
gloved hand,Just a might short of this
warning track,while listening to the
roaring crowd,and it's peanut and hotdog
venders,over to the right of me,in this
noisily stand!I twirl in mid air and make
a spectacular catch,Throwing over hand,
with smooth agility and quickness of speed
to with evenly match!The throw is off to
second base,with a runner on first,A lot
of cheering fans order soda's and beers
to quench their excitement and thirst!
This game is nearly done,Looks like we've
nearly won!This sweet old sport is so much
fun!
Amongst the finest silk.
Beginning to spill is the milk.
Caressing the very fabric.
Disgracing the very cosmic.
Enjoying the destruction.
Fraying the very eruption.
Grave driven is the rage.
Harboring the scent of sage.
Indignant excuse.
Jester the abuse.
Killing the very soul.
Losing all of your control.
Milk runs and brands.
Open container saves the other strands.
Purpose unknown.
Questing the very moan.
Rendering the very cloth.
Sending the sloth.
Tending to the mess.
Usually they like to make it less.
Venders selling gothic souvenirs.
Wading to the very fears.
Xerox everything in sight
Yours to destroy and fight
Zeroing in on the very game of playing the average.
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