Dinner was for two, a shared dessert meant to please
Exotically prepared, with apt name to tease
Across the table she’s testing, probing not too deep
The taste lights up her face, no secrets can it keep
Help me out she whispers, into action I leap
Beautiful in texture, already having regrets
Yielding to the craving, oh how willpower forgets
Cream runs soft and silky, soothing over ache
Her hands spoon me more, perhaps more than I can take
Obsession builds again, reaching layer of sponge
Caught in resistance, I choose to take the plunge
Oaths fill my mind, sugar high sets me dizzy
Lost in a chocolate maze, layers keep us busy
Angels driven outward, demons devour inside
This just-right moment’s gone too far to hide
Each dunk goes deeper, the wafers start to flake
Crumbling extra pleasure every scoop we make
Allies in debauchery, our bodies can’t resist
Karma, she’s a b!tch, but tonight we both insist
Ending in the bedroom where our real passion persists.
Cornfield aluminum recycled communion wafers.
We drank Gatorade wine from a stolen lunchbox,
sat Indian style in the irrigation ditch,
reciting Tool lyrics as scripture.
My IPhone had a cracked screen,
Her Android played only static and KORN.
We smoked straw wrappers,
wore hoodies like vestments.
God, in the form of a substitute teacher,
glassy eyed and smoked menthols.
She named a dead bird “Ezekiel.”
Buried it with her wedding ring
underneath the bleachers behind the gym
where someone graffitied “THIS IS NOT A revolution”
the snow didn’t remember our names.
Just a pager in her pocket,
still blinking after the apocalypse
I pray upon my Knees
I believe what I Believe
I don’t care what anyone says
My faith is Strong
What’s written is Written
If only on whispering wafers of Paper
Or in Stone, or sketched in Clay
Most likely, on my Heart
Is what I Say
Westward wanderlust,
Wagon waltzes with Winter wine,
White watercolor walleye, windy-wallop.
Wading where wafers wage war,
Where warmth wanes without warning.
Wary whispers; weather will weather, whatnot.
I went with Dad,
just us two,
to the hardware store.
We got replacement tubes for the TV,
Sometimes, filters for the heater.
He bought me
Necco wafers -
all different colors -
priceless coins.
Sometimes,
we picked up rock salt
for the ice-cream maker -
vanilla -
cold, smooth, delectable,
an elusive taste.
One man knew
the secret,
in Downey, California,
1965.
Seldom now, but once popular,
carnal Feast of Adam and Eve.
A Christian tale, if you believe,
spun, no doubt, by a gospeler.
Late December, Mystery Play –
downfall, the original sin.
Played on stage, moral tale to spin,
a day both frightening and gay.
Reenactment of solemn scene
was surely presented well-posed.
Original sin, acts exposed,
with performances now obscene.
Paradise Tree prettified strung
with roses, lit candles, and sweets.
Apples and wafers, tasty treats,
all upon the bare tree were hung.
O, Tannenbaum, I may believe
this festival, your lasting fame,
the current Christmas Tree became,
that we adorn on Christmas Eve.
sowing a melange
of veined wafers
viridescent shavings
leaves upon leaves
chaotically neat
layered in tranquillity
for the theatrical show
of first feet
premiere wellies
curtain up at dawn
cue the early walkers
after a night’s forlorn
which unseen hand
spritely close
knitted the forest
cross-stitched floor
taking their time
perfectionist
preparing fallen
Jenga sticks
behind the scenes
but never seen
Jack in the Green
What in time's complex breath causes you to ask
Tacit monotony's spiral to complain so
When consciousness cuts it own wings to better bask
In the bright limelight and let the virgin girl go.
Harley's ghost sits in my catatonic hallway
Waving a banner crying out soon our defeat
But we know better, giving up is not our way
Across the white, Santa sits to his wafers eat.
Whilst that romantic building burns hope sadly dies
He with his favorite whip makes the reindeers cry
From across surging ocean the albatross flies
And little boy blue steals his auntie's apple pie!
As the flickering stars smile with ample delight.
The voices from Heaven cry out, no more not tonight.
Robert J. Lindley, Sonnet
Dec2nd, 1973
OLD NOTE- DELETED
NEW NOTE--
She smiled when her love entered her bedroom
His handsome face and boyish charm always did win
Soon he would be all hers, as her romantic groom
And they could each day live their pleasurable sin.
Gumdrops and Raindrops Nursery Rhyme
Raindrops patter in such sweet, sweet songs
How I love their song - to sing along.
Jelly beans bloom in the peppermint's lane
Cinnamon bear showers dance in my brain.
Sour cherry drops hang from Boston bean trees
Whistle pops toot a song for my breeze.
Root beer barrels jive with fruity dots
In storms hot tamales do turkey trots.
Splashing through my puddles of gumdrops green
Lollypop flowers make quite a scene.
Foil wrapped kisses sparkle like rain dews
Sweethearts and sweet tarts play peek-a-boo.
Drizzles rain down flat Necco wafers
I duck hard hail so like hard jaw breakers.
Sassafras sky pounds with taffy torrent rains
As sugar babies chant their sweet refrains.
Abracadabra jujubes appear
Licorice buttons and rock candy clear.
I turn my bumbershoot upside down
To catch tasty rain so I never frown.
3-28-23
Contest: Children Sing to Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Grenpc5 and Slapkov7 had a huge intergalactic argument.
Grenpc5 wanted to take the four-legged animal as a specimen.
Slapkov7 argued that the two-legged were more unique, more intriguing.
On their planet almost all creatures had between six and eight legs.
By the time they figured it out, the potential specimens were gone.
The girl and her dog were safely inside their house, eating supper.
Neither aware how close they had been to being abducted.
They would have been encased in air bubbles.
Xendrendites by the thousands would have stared at them.
They would have been fed tasteless wafers.
The boy next door and his cat Gomor were not as lucky.
They disappeared from the face of the planet that night.
some colors peep in
betwixt white-scenario ---
each claims to be a rainbow
white archeries set
white artilleries adorned ---
white and white is all around
10 January 2923
Now, he is fed up with his rubber pistol,
Irrepressibly itching for Hard Metal:
To every onlooker crystal clear
That Kingsley has drowned his fear
Of spraying bullets 360o degrees
And blood stains bestowing a black grease.
Whom we should reproach I knew all along,
For Kingsley’s now roguish eyes and song;
For I had his doting daddy warned
Against having a bull belatedly dehorned:
The folly of over-exposing him to toys
That would yield only Satan’s joys:
The slim chances of Kingsley’s young mind
Rightly guessing that he’s spiritually behind;
If it wasn’t some tasty, beefy meat
A special mind-blowing chocolatey treat
If not, milky juices you won’t find in town
Crispy wafers no one can turn down
If it wasn’t some eye catching software
About under-cover operations revealing a snare;
Some costly cell phones for men of title
And this GODDAMNED rubber pistol!
I write upon ethereal silicon wafers of time,
pressing words into the computerized clay of today,
stored in a cloud immune to time.
And like dust drifting with the wind,
my thoughts float freely from one cloud to another,
not stagnating inside a box in someone's attic.
I give the reader a glimpse of my heart
and a peek at my soul between each line,
as I explore feelings we all share.
I write of pain, hopes, dreams, and fears,
evoking a plethora of emotions
that are a shared part of life,
innate to the human heart and soul—
whispers in the wind, silent screams, and cries of joy.
I express human feelings in verse and rhyme,
as relevant today as they were yesterday
and will be tomorrow,
for feelings outlast time.
I believe that forgiveness and unconditional love exist,
and I carry that thought like a surrogate mother,
giving birth to a new understanding of self.
The priest had lost weight, becoming so thin
That he could hide behind a lightweight sin
How did you do it, man?
Tell us how WE can ~ "Sure:
Just pack those wafers into a wineskin."
thick moist salty air
wafers of ice on slack water
geese in formation
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