Butterfly, fly away.
little lost.
A lot of lost,
either way you spin it I'm spun.
Alarm bell ringing, nervous twitch persists.
Deliriously strange encounters in the mirrors, seeing thoughts obscured in furrows and crypts.
A terrible person with good intentions,
forever flawed intermixing such a hopeless hallelujah.
As a kid, wishing for the world, not realizing the weight it carried
hunchback
Replaying tracks, favorite songs begin to scare me.
To emit no evil is to live on time.
A sojourner journaling to his past and future sublime
existing by the miracle that is God.
The unspoken pain that lingers in the soul.
Regret stews like a pot in the kitchen,
simmering with drug-filled decisions.
The tallest towers
are stacks of unwashed dishes
in a sink of despair.
Cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling
catch flies buzzing against the wall.
The timer on the oven
blinks at me often,
yet refuses to be used at all.
The faucet drips
in unison with the tears that fall.
Magnets on the refrigerator
hold the lyrics of a forgotten song.
The aroma of fresh coffee
from an old pot
dances through a broken nose.
A table stained with memories
stands where the chairs
can no longer bear the weight.
Cracks in the flooring
run all the way through.
Blue paint drips
where the floor
no longer meets the wall.
Everything in life holds meaning.
Words hold weight, like pennies on a scale.
“A penny for your thoughts,”
or “throw in your two cents.”
A copper shower leaves welts,
the weight of another’s opinion
pressed into my skin.
The nickels are pelted
while my back is turned.
Standing in the spotlight,
they drop dimes on me.
This can’t be the right change.
Flipping quarters—
heads or tails—
my legs give out
as I hold onto the rail.
A half dollar richer,
I made another on a dime.
The nickels start to make sense,
and somehow those pennies…
they still shine.
Fatty doggy
Happy sleepy
Witty
Greedy
Pulsing
Patting
Thumping
Hugging
Trendy
Friendly
Watching
Dreaming
Barking
Chasing
A friend
At hand
Asked the census-taker, at once witty and wacky
Are you two married, or are you happy
We replied, We’re happily married 40 years now
~ For a couple married for 55, that’s a real WOW
Okra and ripe apple
Cucumber and tomato
Sweet potato and ripe pear
Banana with honey and mango
Pungent, white radish, and muskmelon
Bugs Bunny loves his carrot snack,
He tricks his foes and never looks back.
“Eh, what’s up, doc?”—his teasing cue,
A clever rabbit who’s quick and shrewd too.
Poet’s Note:
Inspired by Bugs Bunny’s famous 1940 line, “Eh, what’s up, doc?”.
(\(\
(-.-)
o_(")(") Eh, what’s up, doc?
Lovely weather for Dunners' ducks (tongue in cheek peek at Dunedin's historic deluge)
"Stares upstairs..
Angels’ weeing above..
Be a good chap..
Show some love bruv..
Turn off the tap..
*****
No refuge from the subterfuge of the deluge..
Parched sandbag phalanxes..
Ranks marching in flanks..
Arching across busted banks..
Quaffing..scoffing..downpour spanks..
**********
Disbelief at the leisurely river Leith..
Despairing at it baring...glaring..teeth
Hurling....haring to unsheaf grief..
Mischief rashly unfurling…
Brashly whirling beneath.
Bawdry..tawdry thief...
******
Baffled..can't they see...squiffy South D in a jiffy downed..
Snaffled..drowned and raffled to the sea..
Don't they care...iffy white caps slaps..won't perhaps spare even sniffy..
Snooty..spiffy St Clair..
****
This rain ruckus.. pluvial palaver...
Whichever not whatever...
It totally sucks..
Planet forever in..
Fluvial flummoxed flux..
Tis rather lovely weather..
Though for Dunedin's ducks.."
Men are like "asians" (-ation) not the ones from the far east, but the ones who fall weak.
The ones who seek validation through manipulation for their gratification somehow thinking they should get a congratulation for their uncertain manifestation.
The ones who play games like life is a play station, but fail to realize they create their own demise of this devastation.
Yet they colonize a civilization of hallucination for women to fall victim for their celebration.
Living in their own world of separation instead of integration as if we don't need one another for concentration.
Sad world we live in with these men.
Now don't get me wrong, not showing discrimination, women too can also be "asians" (-ation).
But this ain't about us, right now I'm on the men "asians" (-ation) with no hesitation.
We all should do some reevaluation in order to get some elevation, but before we do that, we have to come to realization not to bring aggravation to our generation.
Why Little Red Riding Hood
Seems you're steppin' out
Dodgin' bullets and pullin' clout
And what happened to the Grandma stop
Did she want you out?
The whole forest heard her shout
So come on, what was that all about?
Ohh my hooded and cloaked babydoll
You are a vision of vixen
An icon of dazzling brilliance, beautiful and thrilling
Your hot breath on my neck is chilling
Blackness, Darkness in a jar
Your Ying with my Yang
Playin' chicken in different cars
Together we could go so far
So why then are we slammin' shots in this dive bar?
Little Red Ridin' Hood, with thigh-high red leather boots
Long red gloves, blood-red lips, and eyes of black
A David Bowie moment or a panic attack
Take it all back
Cuz diz fairy tale been cracked
And a poetic daybreak is a matter of fact
So you go girl
Little Red Ridin' Hood hit that trail, I got yer back
And the brothers Grimm - well they'll be checkin' in
Dealin' Sin and with the help of all things heinous and supernatural
Let the games begin
White horse, black heart, Little Red Ridin' Hood
Take your start
The Abominable Snowman
May try to melt into obscurity,
Yeti remains a glittering star
On the ecological ladder,
After a very, very long climb.
Yes indeed-
Big-Foot is a Leg-Eend
In its own time!
Heading into Bethlehem ...
Three Wise Men,
In search of a stable.
Heading out of Bethlehem ...
Three Wise Turkeys,
While they were - still able.
if he was half as witty as he thought
he would be making millions of dollars as a comic
he thinks he is a professional wisecracker
a train of witticisms travels out of his mouth
hitting anyone and everyone in the eye
quips, gags, jokes and jest are his daily tools
his relatives have tired of most of them already
What keeps me going in life
Mu uncle Franklin
was a pro wrestler.
He lit up a room
like Nikola Tesla.
My aunt Judy
was a cake maker.
Her cakes were tall
like an LA Laker.
My brother Steve
played video games
-until my mom Kate
called him names.
Kate, to her credit
was a fine, fine artist.
But with brains, forget it.
I am the smartest.
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