PHILO MILO BUTTERCREAM

No More Hey Diddle, Diddle

2011-07-30T07:00:00.003-07:00

Oh we are as tired from this daily anxiety
when our owner ruins our feline variety,
now that this her infant son is old enough to roam
and she’s got fairy tale rhymes ringing in the home.

We just can’t bear another round of diddle, diddle
plus that silliness about some cat with a fiddle,
don’t want hear again about some cow jumping over the moon
because after fifties times it sure makes us nuts by every noon.

Well we are trying a new approach with my son and I in cahoots
just hoping our poses and antics will remind her of puss and boots,
at least it’s a start while we figure a new strategy for attention,
which will be a true masterpiece of my cat’s clever invention.

Meanwhile we will practice this cuteness nap
to see if it will close the infant’s opening gap,
between our snacks and play time that were just fine
before that darn kid’s dumb luck took was use to be mine.

It’s okay because my darling kitten is worth it all
already learned my lesson about curling in a ball,
besides unlike junior my son doesn’t require any diapers
that are disgusting like some pit of venomous vipers.

So we will keep up our fur and cuddly act
as our grand and glorious mother and son pact,
for no little rug rat is going to get the best of us
since we can meow, be adorable to outshine any kid’s fuss.

Mouth Magic

2011-07-30T07:00:00.001-07:00

There’s nothing more amazing
than a luscious slice of chocolate cream pie,
that incredibly, smooth creamy topping
before you bite into that chocolate filling,
it nearly melts in the mouth
as all the textures blend together
with that pastry pie crust,
so soft and chewy
just perfect to complete the taste.

What a cool and fantastic dessert
how it makes the meal so perfect
to end it with such true magic
of a fork full of heaven
slowly fed into the mouth,
which you can let bring its sweet happiness
while chewing it slowly
in order to not miss any moment of joy
from what it has to offer.

Question Marks

2011-07-29T07:00:00.000-07:00

She holds a locket
containing a golden watch
in her palm,
its hands move backwards,
sometimes stopping,
never points to true time,

On the cover of the locket
are faces that constantly change,
each a life she sees in whimsical glances
deciding to bless or curse
as her mood inspires.

For she is fate, goddess of fortune,
daughter of a god and mortal queen,
who has ethereal talons to sway any seconds,
but posses of the most tempest spirit.
A legacy of her mother's nature,
still unable to believe at times
how her mixed breeding
left her ethereal essence
experiencing cycles of PMS,
but when it strikes
her thoughts turn dark,
venting in some special creative way
a dash of bad luck upon any soul who catches her attention.

In happier times
beset of generosity
passing out the diamonds of joy
to someone that caught her eye.

This lark of tempest flair
always leaving questions in every heart
about the way life works,
but it truly serves a divine purpose
for the immortals understood
without a few question marks in life
man's creativity wouldn't be inspired
to look for answers.

Costumes

2011-07-28T07:00:00.000-07:00

Oh the sheaths
woven
from summer's seraph threads,
a membrane shrouding
with Oz radiation.

It suffocates
when exposed
unto dehydration.
Inflating as hot air balloon
if thirst for rain
gives flight to the disguise.

Elevators

2011-07-27T07:00:00.000-07:00

Falling from ambition's frail ladder
while attempting to reach
the spires painted in the sky.

Camelot clouds envisioned when sleeping
linger as someday mirage of hope's hovering
above the desolate ruins
that once were a sand castle of potential
created when life still fluttered with promise.

Eyes gaze towards the sun piercing bluntness
to find the stairway that reaches the gems
twinkling in one mind's night.

To ascend the fortress that lives in the heart
visits by angels as paramours of light.
Until no moment's caress blends with despair
and the citadel sought as desire
reaches forth from imagination's inviting air.

Riding the elevator of faith
unto the level where reality sees possibilities
so one can hold heaven with spiritual arms,
dream and have it be truth
watch with eyes that can see the world
with Eagle's flared vision.

Lifted from purgatory to Nirvana
on a plateau full of serenity's breeze
because one pushed the buttons in the soul,
becoming a passenger of choice
going to heights others have never imagined.

Losing Control

2011-07-26T01:00:00.000-07:00

Roaring rage and red line lies
roam against the tires of sanity
holding reliance's frail wheel
upon the reflection's racetrack
towards obscurity's trailer park.

Curve in calamity's edge
bends the mind towards collision
with the accusing landscape of desire
that dances in the eyes
when peeking into the looking glass
by artificially induced clarity.

Hearing the crash impending
not even attempting to apply the brake,
ride towards fate
more thrills
than tooling down the road
in a coffin of excuses.

Time clings the conscious to the highway
no traffic cops of truth
come to cite one's illusions,
racing forward to the horizon
smothered in anxiety's dust cloud
accepting having no power
over the destination,
but foot still glued to accelerator.

Taffercise Those Pounds Away

2011-07-25T07:00:00.000-07:00

Now you can pull away those excess pounds
with the Acme Taffercise System,
plus it is not only great exercise,
but when you are done
you get the added benefit
of some great tasty taffy
that is sugar free.

Made of a special edible silly putty,
this taffy comes in several great flavors,
there is eggplant, liverwurst, headcheese,
sauerkraut, cod liver oil and fiery Tabasco pork rinds.

No more trips to gyms
or those darn diets to mess with,
just a few hours of stretching our taffy
then feasting on that great snack
will make those pounds melt away.

So don’t wait to send away
for the patented Taffercise System
with our unique sweat-o-matic device,
which will help you make this fitness option
one you truly enjoy.

It’s unique, its different
and most of all very affordable,
thanks to our payment plan program
one phone call and your purchase
can be shipped the same day
at a very reasonable cost
of 75 per cent interest
compounded by the hour.

Let’s See What Develops

2011-07-24T07:00:00.000-07:00

It was the turn of the century at 1900 in England
the population had declined and the government was concerned
so they issued a decree that any couple who didn’t conceive
after a year of marriage would have a male substitute sent
that was considered to be sure the wife got pregnant.

On this given morning a husband left for work
aware that the government stud representative was due that morning,
only in this case a baby photographer happen to show up
who was out soliciting to take pictures.

Well the woman let him into the house
where he told her his specialty was twins,
her eyes widen in curiosity
then he whipped out an album
to show off examples of his work.

Then he went on to talk about some of his “jobs”
like the one on the back of a pony,
which he said took all day.

By now the woman was shocked
saying she had never tried such a thing.
Was then the photographer mentioned
how the really hard part was using a tripod,
she looked confused and asked why a tripod?

He replied that because his “equipment” was so big
it was the only way he could use it,
immediately the woman fainted.

It’s A Jungle Out There

2011-07-23T07:00:00.000-07:00

There’s just too many risks for the paparazzi these days,
all those angry celebrities causing them possible harm,
so the anxious rag magazines deciding they needed
a new way to catch those famous people.

Now’s it’s up to Rag Rocking Rocky,
who they trained to spy out
all those juicy bits of gossip
for his nose can sniff up places others can’t,
plus he works for nuts and string
it’s a bargain for them all.

Oh he loves bushes and trees
as places to hide for that candid shot,
and they used a trainer named M A Sleaze
so he’s sure to find the best candid shots,
every exposed evidence of secrets,
wherever the stars try to hide.

Now beware because he’s out there
ready to snap that photo,
only if you don’t pose right
he’s even been trained in trick photography!

Yeah, there’s no fear on his part,
no place he won’t go,
as long as the nuts are there,
which includes the crazy people,
then its click and flash
before it shows up on the next cover page.

Shifting

2011-07-22T07:00:00.000-07:00

Clutched bed sheets
twisted in the mind,
fingers feeling for lovers
vaporized by the light.

Ripples flow over the skin,
tight enticing teases
of tawdry thoughts
from pebble’s tossed
upon night’s lake.

Then reaching outwards
with a desperate grasp
towards the shore
where a paradisiacal sea
brings the tides of twinkles.
They are stars from lustrous horizons
worn as reverie’s overcoat.

While trying to trace
their vibrant auras as sand castles,
a palace sparkling as the jewels
bedecked as a diadem of dreams.

The struggles comes
from shifting through the sands
to sculpt the heart with spellbound images
of sea shell songs
and mold a vision for the sunrise
one can stroll
in a beachcomber’s tranquil steps.

But learning as those grains
oft fall from the hands,
how frail are those figures
who can so easily decay
into mounds burying
what never came to life.

Tarsier

2011-07-21T07:00:00.000-07:00

A tiny ball of primate fur
with more eyes than head
was the world such a shock
that his sight outgrew his face?

Now his bulging gaze
is frozen in place
makes you wonder
does he see more
than the rest of us?

Hope it isn’t something mean
or really threatening
since this creature
will never speak
what his glances tell.

The Expected Unexpected

2011-07-20T07:00:00.000-07:00

Fears form their night over the mind
erecting walls so hard to destroy
so the story comes within the head,
don’t go there is the vow
never try and find the gate
for there’s nothing gained
from wandering in a darkness
when you only learn
how it proves you’re a lost.

But what lies in the places
where we paint by brushes
created out of our thoughts
instead of the facts,
often produce some artistry
full of holes and seldom clear.

Truth is often the opposite
of what we think is real
and in that darkness
where we think it is so hard to see
there is a flame from insight
that can burn so bright within
giving an incredible vision
even when we thought
it was a place we would just be blind.

That Certain Glow

2011-07-19T07:00:00.000-07:00

It is amazing how fast
an inspired thought that glows with creativity
can spread after being shared,
rise in other’s mind like a sunrise
then slowly eclipse what else was being imagined
and eventually cross the continents, even oceans.

How beautiful when it is a loving idea
meant to bring care and joy to those it influences,
so sad when it is the flare of hate
only inflaming some resentments inside.

But that is the sad history of life
the most passionate stars
we all often see
either move us deeply
because they burn with a light
that makes us feel good
or they strike a flame from rage,
which spreads like forest fire.

Perhaps we could extinguish
all the ones that brought evil
while helping the ones that were good,
but sometimes it is hard to tell
one from the other
for both are often so bright
until they touch within
where their heat
changing minds and causing reactions
eventually ending with either hugs or scars.

Independence

2011-07-18T07:00:00.000-07:00

Heart trounces heavily towards fate
bearing its burden defiantly
singing yesterday's song
as a psalm of blessing
for the future's steps.

Wind crossed fortune
swings the spirit
beyond the surety of known
dangling before
an abyss of threat
from death or damage
screams
from underneath the mind's
layers of clarity.

Pounding veins
still adamantly vow
that nothing will suffer loss
when hands of will fight against
consequences.

Losing grip upon reality
gritting teeth to face
the price for being independent.

Ready with echoes of philosophical resignation
about the lesson learned from mistakes
before a hand reaches out in care and compassion
helping to bridge the illusion of traveling only
under one's own strength.

Finally understanding that survival at times
comes through freedom
of knowing
when two pairs of arms
enable to one to rise
without illusion.

The Remaining Flower

2011-07-17T07:00:00.000-07:00

His grisly face bore its stern steely glance,
etched into stone by life's hammer as a cop,
body of iron, his insides cold, but having passion's flicker,
admired and feared, always a towering pillar of strength.

Tonight he sits upon the porch, fumbling with the remaining flower
from the bouquet he had crushed in his deep incredible pain,
silent, feeling void and full of grief that his eyes refused to admit,
having fallen in love with a goddess intending to give her the flowers
before asking her to marry him, until his heart pierced from the shock,
seeing her in cuffs at the station, arrested by vice for prostitution.

Warmth

2011-07-16T07:00:00.000-07:00

It is the sun that lasts until the next morning,
silence from lament’s howling wind,
a place you visit between questions
where light and peace touch the heart.

Journeys taken standing still
nothing greeted,
except a friend,
nature’s tongue
licks with the rain, sights or scents
that caress and inspire,
mind immerses in a laughter
without voice or sound.

So many faces
form in the mind
bringing the pure sense of euphoria.

Like a wind it is fleeting,
has so many origins,
but for that precious moment
of inner radiant song
the world becomes a melodious piano
whose music
quiets the dogs of night.

Nods

2011-07-15T07:00:00.000-07:00

Heart pounding in fierce fearful frenzies
so terrified every act will never see a nod
from that god who terrorizes
because of that scepter of approval being held.

Groveling in such humiliation
out of panic there might be another
shake of the head to rip apart the insides,
totally discarding any sense of pride
in hopes this time every gesture done
will end with a smile instead of a frown.

It’s the horror of living in a tail spin
since there is no being lifted
even though within you still dream
of that one moment in fantasy
when acceptable comes to your acts.

Meanwhile it’s the endless agony
that inner sickness of need
from always being a sacrifice
left bleeding and mutilated
whose pain and suffering
merely inspires a yawn
if noticed at all.

Cliffs

2011-07-14T07:00:00.000-07:00

On the pilgrimage of self
amid a wayward trek in discovery
to reach that solitary precipice
rising as the cliff of contemplation.
It is where serenity cascades
in a refreshing and cool mental baptism
and gently washes over they soul
through the calming rinse of quiet
baptizing by its effervescent essence.

That is the bath that immerses
with such a tranquil flow
while the mind drowns in the bliss
of the soothing sensed sounds
sprayed by showery stimulations.

One moment reached of feeling so drunk,
so completely inebriated in this peace,
until forgetting the ravishes of life
that had cluttered the mind in their chaos.

This beautiful, breathless moment in pageantry ,
totally submerses the senses.
Finally flooded by the silky touch
summoning the feeling of being tenderly stroked
where every pore is aroused
while every nerve tingles from the encounter.

Gone, simply drained away
is the stains of stress and mental strain,
they are lost to the sweet supplication in liquid magic
truly pouring forth from the heart’s fount.

What power, what pure release comes inside
from that interlude in gushing harmony.
Felt like a soft rainfall on naked skin
by its arousing spell in fluidity
leaving the mind, body and soul
captivated and cleansed.

Mirrors

2011-07-13T07:00:00.000-07:00

Reflections shine from every stare
they cast the aged, withered and weary dreams
of horizons spent and already lived
from eyes who speak softly
like that adds wisdom to mistakes.

Love is the vibration that quivers
its magnetism between the two lives,
while youth wonders if that face
with all its lines and furrows in fret
will somehow be the future.

Silence carries such an unspoken bond,
the union of two lives
who share the vase of spring flowers
where virginity once bloomed
and sit together to face the morning,
hold back the screams
smile during the yawns,
then whisper secrets
in the moments of nakedness,
call it life
though it feels like insanity
mixed with murky impressions
that can’t be defined
just experienced in their mystery
ever waiting for princes.

Cages

2011-07-12T07:00:00.000-07:00

Howls dig into the senses
like finger being drug down a chalkboard
as the wire they control creeps up before the eyes
from those voices fill with evil.

Soon there is no place not caged
and always seeing them from inside
because of the curse, the inevitable legacy of rage
that vile inheritance of the power players
who dwell everywhere and even your brain.

Inside the terror bubbles
for life has become a prison camp
always among the condemned
with no pardon waiting in the end.

The heart still beats, but it hurt so much,
life has slipped into a labyrinth of traps,
none offering any escape.

Tonight will be a haunted stumbling stroll
through a wicked fun house
filled with psychopathic sorcerers
they’ll find you in the darkness
then drag you over cut glass.

Left lying in a pool of blood
until morning vomits its candles,
when it will be time to march off to office hell,
which is the biggest jail there is,
while it only offers release
after you die,
though you pulse stopped years ago
once the dreams were sacrificed
on an altar called a desk.

http://allpoetry.com/poem/6446151

Thirty Six Hundred Seconds

2011-07-11T07:00:00.000-07:00

And the legs pump against the peddles,
and the arms drip the droplet of perspiration,
and the bottom tries to stay from getting numb
while sitting on that hard rubber exercise bike seat.

But my mind is off on a cloud,
listening to melodious dreams on my walkman,
when I am truly lost in its sounds
the bicycle, the gym and the world
slip into a fantasy envelope
where I kept those toys
from my quill play house.

For thirty six hundred seconds
I am not tired and aged,
not in debt and at a dead end job,
my home life isn’t a graveyard
or my future covered in mourner’s silk.

Instead I have wings and am still twenty one
all around me only sky appears
it is cool and serene
far from that sweat chasm of reality
that chains my brain to facts and details
reminding I’m mortal and marred.

So I fly above the tangles in my day,
above the tears, pains and pangs,
let my sanity lie on a cloud pillow
finding peace from all the stabs of despair,
which otherwise might nip at my joy.

Naps

2011-07-10T07:00:00.000-07:00

I snoozed

through noon screams,

gave birth
to a thought

left it

under the remote control

Until August Comes

2011-07-09T07:00:00.000-07:00

I’ll drift on sunset’s tangerine rays,
a cerebral sailboat on a serene sail
while bathed in the honeyed hue spell
until my skin is bronze and tight
and my mind is full of endless sun.

With my hair bleached by the brilliant noons
shall I live on sandy shores for its rule,
gone from the listless lairs in labor
were time stops ticking
as the day stretches so long before the eyes.

Then I’ll save my stories of daystar worshipping
for the hasty visit unto a tanning salon
in hopes of hiding the truth
of how I spent July as a couch potato.

Pardon Our Dust

2011-07-08T07:00:00.000-07:00

Pardon the dust on our minds
for we are building a pillar of bones,
a remarkable mural of marrow
made from the models
our files have forgotten.
Though our speeches vowed to make
their invisibility so visible,
their plight so plain,
upon the concrete is captured
their stark and sorrowful creations
such a tribute to our artistry in amnesia bureaucracy.
It is all silent expression
from what is served as leftover lies
out of our oven in social care.

Oh transient souls who fall
upon the sticker patch of indifference
will the thorns truly be remembered
when we celebrate our civil progress?

Our gamble is to play our charade with passion
so no one will have time to react
over another destitute heart
since their own misery is so consuming.

Sidewalks become that quiet reply
while they becomes littered
by the lives left to wither
because street sweepers are included in the budget
whereas entitlements are not
without a majority vote,
which must be saved
then squandered on legislation to preserve
what beautiful edifices we can tax to make.

KNITTING

2011-07-07T07:00:00.000-07:00

Frayed affections
dangled heart's
ball of yarn.

Creating
love's lasting scarf,
when boyfriend
offered a wedding
needle.

Lying Eyes

2011-07-06T07:00:00.000-07:00

Each day I live by forged stare
seeing with my mind's sight
a face and body, bloated and hideous,
unable to match the image
to the one staring back from the mirror.

Seven years have passed
since sickness stripped my flesh
of its rotund essence,
forced to change my life
because of health demands.

Still what I see
is the portrait from before,
never able to embrace
what is reality with more than denial
that my eyes must have lied.

Even now I wander the ordinary size sections
in clothing stores at malls
while looking over at the big and tall area
and feeling awkward as well as out of place.

Perhaps the day will come with I won't
continue to read into the looks from others
that unspoken thought carrying the word, "repulsive."

Maybe someday I'll return home for hours at the gym
without having the fear,
this change of so many years is just a dream.

Until then, I will always feel a clone of the Pillsbury Doughboy
cursed to be treated as someone to revile.

Wings

2011-07-05T07:00:00.000-07:00

Devotion's fluttering stance
upon the cathedral's ancient cliff
uttering chants of petition for divine reclamation,
feeling plumes of anointing
from the heavenly embrace,
obeying the voice of light
that whispers to jump and soar
beyond the precipice of rituals.

Faith flies towards clouds,
heart is caught upon zephyr elation's current,
until illusion evaporates and reality's gravity
sucks the spirit towards consequence's stony rocks.

Ears heard the immortal gust breath a flame
and thought it was a psalm from God,
but never packed a scripture's parachute
for knowing His promise
instead of a deceiver's seductive sentences.

Discovering harshly that not all urges
one thinks have eternal song
come from the same source,
without the sacred scriptures strings
to tether one to the truth,
it is so easy to leap off wisdom's ledge
by the words coming from hell's liturgical charade.

Appetite

2011-07-04T07:00:00.000-07:00

Fangs flashing
of succulent seduction,
victims feel pierce
from flared harbinger,
but willingly surrender.

Moment of purest intimacy
when trust's blood is consumed,
Dracula of soul
is one inviting taste.

Trumpets

2011-07-03T07:00:00.000-07:00

I shall never know
a timbre of clarion call,
if it doesn’t strum the cord of my heart
because I fear the thundering hoofs of cavalry.

But of bugles blowing their defiance
against the tempest gusts
upon sacrificial plains,
there is bewitchment for the slumbering soldier,
beguiling with a warrior’s flare.

Ears sharpen in the saber serenade,
heart sheathed in the armor of militia ardor,
affixed in the surging satiation,
ire of legions unto anthem causes
inflames in the enticing charge.

Unable to deny the lure of saddle oblations,
those spells that sway to more than watch,
yielding to conviction’s banner,
while lifting a throbbing sword within the spirit
to do more than drag its shimmering emblem
across indifference’s soil.

Patriots ride by the dulcet tones
of compulsion’s psalm,
as its music has power
for transcending any retreat of indecision
and making crusaders
out of lives
hibernating among lethargy’s drifts.

Daisies

2011-07-02T07:00:00.000-07:00

Picking flowers
in the backyard,
before going to church play,
playing he love me,
he loves me not
with the petals.

Precious flashback memory
floating through her mind
while in labor.

Feeling so happy
that the daisy test
proved to him
she was an angel
whom he married,
now waiting to delivery
of their daughter,
praying the daisies
will someday
also be prophets
for heart.

Medicated

2011-07-01T07:00:00.000-07:00

To soak in the balm of nature’s pharmacy
slowly soothes the deepest scars upon the heart
where splendor medicates the mood and soul
and the cool air combs the skin in soft caresses.

Among the pines is inhaled the scent that calms
while streams dispense the tranquil tablets of gurgling
with the cerulean sky spreading that peaceful prescription
until it gently nurtures an end to the hurt within.

Before the earth to stroll with aching steps
is to wander through that rustic door
unto a setting where each blade and thicket
amply endows its own cure upon the mind
quietly easing away the sorrow inside.

Each meadow, mountain,
lake and ocean has its own remedy
for healing the sickness that is cancer for joy
by their scenic dozes of serenity
taken by the senses in regular amounts.

When eyes can find those numbing spells
in the many arrays spread within a day’s light
or the sprawling twilight ebony canopy of night
then life becomes a drug store
easily visited by a single gaze.

Glass Blowing

2011-06-30T07:00:00.000-07:00

crystalline flames
dance subtle suggestions,
shaped into terrarium for fireflies
the star sinew of the soul

effigy expectations
drug from earthen tombs,
molded like mud pies,
to sculpt their windowsill promises
the hopelessly transparent murmurs,
blown into the form of shell
to hear the sea

though it doesn’t sing
where neon burns
a rhapsody of silicon

passed around as a Olympic torch
another sun buried
underneath a pile of used matches

auras collect on their globes,
frail pearls of tear drop Edens

look deeply into their world
and pray it won’t shatter

so rainbows don’t die
passed by lips
from one dimly lit waltz
over broken candles

but they were tossed into a chimney,
fire extinguisher held in the hand,
in case they cause as spark
and night
slid across the floor
as an melting ice cube

Oh Cruel Craftsman

2011-06-29T07:00:00.000-07:00

What agony I bear
ripped from my fallow soil patch
without a voice to protest,
then shut in this house,
such horrible mumblings they speak,
can it be true?
Will they really butcher me
before calling me Jack?

Finally the cruelest
insult comes
all that is left
is a pie.

Dial Tones

2011-06-28T07:00:00.000-07:00

Days of phone booths
strewn like numerous sentinels
those pit stop lifelines sprouting on every corner
have faded into a distant recollection
a simple time echo before cell phone frenzy.

I can drive miles on city streets and never find one
the few I do often see don’t work
and the no longer are a complete booth,
just this cover with a phone inside ,
lacking any phone book.

There was a moment
when those booths were way stations ,
places you could close the door,
feel the quiet against the street chaos
then call a familiar voice
all for a quarter.

Now the few I find
just are mere shells
often missing windows,
overhead lights don’t work
or they are missing receivers.

Perhaps it is progress
maybe it is the predictable transition
from one style of life to another
yet I miss those booths
as a little chamber of refuge
where you could collect your thoughts
while hearing the dial tone
that made you relax mid all the stress.

All Around The Hive

2011-06-27T07:00:00.000-07:00

Those busy little bees
who are weaving their tongue honey
so happily running around
while making sure
they collect that gossip pollen.

Oh it is such great fertilizer
a bunch of crap that keeps growing
until before you know it
there’s one big gooey honeycomb
of those sweet, juicy tales
just waiting to be eaten.

Don’t even have to find
any customers to sell
that wonderful make up syrup
since so many love the taste
and can’t wait to get another
wonderful mouthful.

Inspiration

2011-06-26T07:00:00.000-07:00

The blooms of insight,
which grow upon life’s many stems
flower in the mind
as the intuitive buds
that sprout as a creative spring
within the fingers.

They write the vernal awakenings
from within the heart
by a season in renewal
where beauty is expressed
in the burgeoning awareness
and you share the harvest
of their power and meaning
through the memorable
and passionate petals in words.

The Evening Casserole

2011-06-25T07:00:00.000-07:00

In the night the songs served a stew of resonance,
the flavors of tones simmering in the soul,
with the scent of distant roses
slowly becoming a balm devoured for its blissful textures,
eyes supping upon the pastry of illumination
that summoned a soothing syrup,
spread as icing over the heart.

The air carried a breeze of cool caress,
carefully combing the pores with their zesty touch,
which was ingested as a serene soup,
slowly savored for its blissful condiments.

Within it became a cornucopia for the conscience
so readily consumed it each arousing ingredient
while words became the muffins of the mind,
a tranquil snack that inspired a banquet in calming appetizers
until one’s very being was wholly satiated by the buffet.

Amid the fragrant glow of the communal flicker
there was a sugar for the spirit so enriching,
seasoned by the ambience
of the quintessential sensory smorgasbord,
utterly swirling together
a veritable blend in stimulation spices,
totally entwining the moment into a spellbound entrée.

Happily dipped in that charm’s sauce,
completely swallowing its every audible and visual portion
as the staple and sustenance of the evening casserole.

Interludes

2011-06-24T07:00:00.000-07:00

Eyes sensing something strange
along these steps that feels familiar
thought can't remember being here before,
confusion blends with curiosity
inspiring the need to look for more.

Memories still a murky stew
yet knowing inside hands once
graced this isle of breath.

Winged being first journey
through Heaven's portal of light,
making presence among the mortals,
part of transformation
when turning from soul to angel.

Former life temporarily lost in the process,
sent to Earth part of the regeneration and healing,
for the cherub spirit will instinctively travel
to the places where one's cherished in life
can be found,
interlude of bonding eternal with temporal
serving purpose to give immortal his heart.

Learning in the unfolding experience
God's most earnest lesson,
time and thought might clash in understanding,
but love truly never forgets.

Tidal Sighs

2011-06-23T07:00:00.000-07:00

Sleeping soul drinks the crests
ocean washing their sea shell song
over the senses, drinking as elixir
swimming its spell from the shore.

Feeling as a reed, obeying life's wind,
sea gull passions soaring in salt air incense,
one blink and conscious becomes as seaweed,
floating freely among the ebb tide's frothy swells.

Calm floods with voice of crashing waves
parting the mind in tranquil curtains
sail boat dreams stirred in the pool of inhaling
nature's watery enchantment becomes love affair.

Relived as vibrant surfing seconds
when drowning in monotony's lake,
where one casts the cares of buoy existence
as rocks swept away by the currents of time.

Honesty

2011-06-22T07:00:00.000-07:00

In an era of political corrections
tolerance and sensitive training,
daring corporation forged
its new employee relations philosophy.

Boldly declaring in blunt metaphor metal
the soul of their priority.

Erecting statue at entrance
as testimonial of their expectations
from every one that is hired.

Truth replacing executive rhetoric
not longer feeling need to pretend,
just looking for bodies to command,
no brain attached to question or challenge.

And for those with a complaint
they are told to voice their gripe
by putting lips on statue's behind.

Robbed

2011-06-21T07:00:00.000-07:00

They always smile in such peaceful stares
when stopping to suck your seconds,
but they are in charge and rules are rules
so you must listen to every word
even if they are dribbling confusion
flowing with nothing except distraction.

The big hint they don’t care
comes when they check their watches
like they were baking some cake
and deciding when it is done.

Later they walk away
content over their robbing another life,
sad it is when one person
has no real life to live
thus must suck away other’s minutes
just for the feel,
a simple thrill of being a time vampire
while just an undead soul inside.

Scissors

2011-06-20T07:00:00.000-07:00

Little snips slice deep into the mind
they create the image of cookie cutter lives
expected to always be like a paper doll,
one dimensional and so fragile,
never able to think or feel
other than by some pattern.

How those tailors only follow
the lines they want
and if some part of you
doesn’t fit inside,
it’s trimmed away without care
so you lost part of yourself
in order to appear
as they want you shaped.

Toss away the scissors they offer
I can make my own design,
one that won’t kill my identity
make it sliced, diced and in pieces.

Would that there were no cutters at all
and no blueprints for being
someone always dictated as necessary.

So sometimes we just have to dwell
beyond those razors and blades,
where we can craft who we really are
from what we see within
instead of what others view without.

That Subtle, Tainted Tease In Seduction

2011-06-19T07:00:00.000-07:00

She’s the seductress living in the head,
a nymph of whims who you can’t resist
for thrives on the sweet tease to the imagination
when October offers such spells
to cast aside the ordinary
and yield to the siren song
with a witch’s howl and ghost’s moan.

It’s the season the heart
is carved like a pumpkin
easily cutting out those inhibitions
and pretend to play the minions of the dark,
if only meant to be in fun,
but never thinking she is listening
so she can visit during dreams
spill her tainted, torturous brain brew
over one’s sleep.

Blurs of images come during the occasions,
eyes entranced to possibly see
movement in the shadows
and sense monsters lurking everywhere.

It’s all an atmosphere of love and hate
allowing the thoughts to wonder
about so many possible creatures
only seen as real on All Hallow’s Eve.

What pity no one suspects
once they accept her charms
they never cease for working
so any time of day or night
another touch she might give
leading to a shiver or shake
while sensing something sinister
awaits to come and claim
your heart and life.

But how can resist her treat
since fantasies are such a great dessert,
even though we eat the so easily
learning to late about her tricks.

Neat Is Neat

2011-06-18T07:00:00.000-07:00

“Order is divine,”
Zellug would chant,
then wail over
mixes in paper clips sizes
and toilet paper put on the role
to pull underneath instead of front!

A missed period
was cause for a funeral,
one spelling error
deserved the death penalty.

His wife went insane
after he used a label maker
on bread.

He didn’t mind
since the mental ward’s forms
were so very detailed.
Which he added his own revision
just to make them perfect.
About how his spouse
surely was loony
because she squeezed
the toothpaste in the middle!

Doors

2011-06-17T07:00:00.000-07:00

I cover my nakedness behind veils,
but there are small holes
so you can see into my secrets.

My hands massage the illusions,
carefully moving objects
to keep them having the image
my insides have no emptiness.

When something gets broken
or I have so need unseen,
carefully I collect the baubles
in ways no one detects
how I have wept over my void.

Words strung like decorative festoons
create the masquerade of fullness.
The biggest fear is someone having a key
who will intrude to discover
the counterfeit mask I’ve made
out of what I let other’s see.
Yet I will keep up the design
barely clinging to the reality
of how it functions.
Perhaps I’ll lose control
toss aside the lies,
let the deep canyons I hide
be exposed to be seen,
will I bear the consequences?
Not if I can keep those fractured fragments
buried in a closet.

Maze Meandering

2011-06-16T07:00:00.000-07:00

I live in a maze of meandering mental musings,
sometimes utterly lost and wanting to scream,
bruised and scarred, confused and driven to extreme,
while holding a white flag to surrender
though not able to truly identify
my actual enemies or where the war took place.

There’s a library in my head,
with so much time I’ve spent hiding there
reading books about courage and virtue
though often lacking both.

It has wall paper that dances
possessed by the images of all the things I’ve never been.
One has an image of a huge cathedral
because somewhere in the mist of it all
heaven still lingers in my brain.

Inside I keep falling down the swirling mass of chaos,
which has its opening in that library
and it takes me everywhere
except to an exit to reality.

My heart languishes in this twisting of my emotions
just feeling like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz
when she was caught up in that tornado.

Only I don’t land in Oz,
there are no munchkins there or witches,
merely more of the dark strange lands
that my imagination and fears spin together
where I keep wandering as a vagabond
sometimes feeling so alone and filled with sadness
because there is no passage to paradise,
though God does appear in the fog and smoke
as He grants me enough reason to breathe
so I keep on moving to no where defined.

The Ways Of The Crab

2011-06-15T07:00:00.000-07:00

Each quality mentioned is there in my heart,
It rings out of my soul in throbbing chants,
I feel them deeply, stroked by their presence,
but it is all trapped in my shell
the dome of distance where I hide,
where I retreat to reflect on life
or twist reality into a twine of thought.

Inside I bleed at a word,
nearly die from any criticism,
have skin so incredible sensitive
to the slightest prick of my being.

It drives me to want more for others,
thought I get wounded so deeply in the process
then when I hurt I can’t forget,
just move outward and away from the enemy,
no capacity to deal with those
who stab me at any point.

I will hold onto those I love forever,
give them every ounce of my spirit,
not ask anything in return,
yet weep alone when they don’t say thanks.

This is the way of the crab
hard on the outside
far to soft within,
never unwilling to help another heal,
even though I will not broadcast it
from the haven of my shelled existence.

Them Darn Discounts!

2011-06-14T07:00:00.000-07:00

Well the economy genius always look for a new turn
for some creative way to inspire new retail sales,
so what they heck, now a new offer comes to customers.

It’s an all discount, wage sales cost invention,
over the price of a purchase
based on what you think the help did to serve,
then let them show you with their behavior
how they earn that hourly rate.

It’s plead for prices at its best,
humiliation a plus if you want a bonus,
now that we live in sales slump valleys
why any trick will do.

Can’t wait till the put price labels on help,
now that will really be a beautiful option.

At least it will bring a few smiles
maybe even some bonus fun,
that way the poor pay
will hopefully find some reasons to laugh
instead of just needing a reason to cry!

Steel Fingers

2011-06-13T07:00:00.000-07:00

Though the air summons any climatic knots
tying up the mind and stirring the stomach,
even when the cupboard is a hollow pit
and no horizon cavalry await to ease the hunger
my fingers might bend, but never break
to reach out and help shield you against that pain.

For what is life and its panoply of problems
but mere seasons of the heart?
None can ever rob you of a smile
or toss your soul into a dark sizzling vat
because my hands will be there
ever holding on no matter the risk
even if it means I have to fall myself.

Because our friendship is a sun
burning without end,
a brilliant star we can see in any night
radiant with how we care for each other.

Now when the morn summons fears
just know our light will outshine that darkness,
it will never end no matter what happens.

Take my hand in yours and sleep in peace
tonight I be there to whisper every assurance
until you only know my arms will be there
to suffer the scars upon my own body
so you won’t suffer another moment’s stress.

And that is the bond we share
two lives like siblings who give all for the other
with a love that will never cease
as long as there is a day or night.

Seasons Of Shorelines

2011-06-12T07:00:00.000-07:00

Hourglass embryos of hasty drawn plans
spun upon the wind like delicate spider webs
capturing the wave song in momentary moldings,
desperately thinking they will breathe
if the hands can massage miracles.

Oh the vanity of footprints
left upon that shore
in the winter of the mind,
prayerful visits to the beaches
where sunsets are vivid postcards
and nothing ever dies,
but the waters come anyway
they rot the iron made of grains
because it is wine that seduces,
blurs and numbs.

Whispers petition for spring
with all its mirrors,
yet deep down knowing
they are too made of sand,
fading like any vision
while still strolling towards
another buoy sound
thinking summer will never end
if enough beach is crossed,
forgetting the ruination seen,
which resembles tombstones
that also decay.

The Doors Of Night

2011-06-11T07:00:00.000-07:00

Darkness never smothers a dream
for the eyes can see so far beyond a tear,
can drift and float and hover
where the body is trapped in the shadows.

And inside there are the keys
to open every door of night
that often hides in the ebony space,
just waiting for the mind to locate
each place that offers escape
out of the sorrow’s cumbersome cage.

Yet they are there,
always able to be found
if one hears the keys jingle
with the ears of the heart
for they speak to our deepest need,
tell us of what we’ve lost and crave,
what we truly want to bring joy again.

So in the times of midnight’s rule,
to pause and search inside
will take this time of murmurs and echoes
and let it have its own way to light.

Just pausing in the sadness
totally reaching outside its realm,
allows laughter to hint of its presence
behind some nearby door.

Bare

2011-06-10T07:00:00.000-07:00

A smile that isn’t a deceptive mask,
a frown that isn’t a soap opera expression,
each layer of the tongue
woven without condition or question.

Those are the instinct reaction
we often grope for in any conversation,
yet sometimes when something is naked
and truly without any covering
it comes as such a shock,
since it so agrees with what we see
there is this apprehension
that it is still an act.

What is real and truly bare when presented
is more of a challenge to accomplish
than we often accept,
because life is so lived with other decorations,
which we get so used to adding ourselves.

Perhaps that is why too many times
when something is shown
for what is really there
an explanation is needed in our minds
to make sure it is accepted as not a fake.

Only problem is liars can add that too
leaving another endless circle drawn over the mind.
So we walk those journeys around the lips
in hopes to reach an end
where what we find
doesn’t end up another detour.

The Scarlet Scribe

2011-06-09T07:00:00.000-07:00

On donned the claret cap,
the scarlet scribe resides,
strolling in sagacious steps
across the fields of the mind!

Yup, Bubba Guru has it all,
wisdom flows from his Budwiser wisdom,
a dribble, a drab,
red eye mornings
match his hat!

It’s ya all listen now,
lend me your ears,
corn type that is,
we gonna brew some smarts,
white lightning still thoughts.

Then we’ll head down to the fishing hole
maybe even take a pole,
or be fishers of men
like it says in the good book,
only it never mentions hookers,
we’ll dang they seem to do the best
at catching men anyhow.

Never mind,
since we all is doing just fine,
gotten some pork rinds and brew,
which is a paradise that will do.

Blowing In The Wind

2011-06-08T07:00:00.000-07:00

Pollution out of control,
air so dangerous to health,
no hope on the horizon,
so desperate scientist came up
with the perfect solution.

Forget the EPA and smog devices,
pointless to try and stop
all that industrial smoke
filling the skies.

Now the world breathes easier
each person having their own
nasal gas mask,
every ready to filter out what is harmful,
walking outdoors again a joy.

Thoughts given to everyone
changing names to Cyrano de Bergerac.
Elephants now the roll model
for plastic surgeons.

Life getting perfect
in its own odiferous way,
who needs dogs to check for drugs any longer
when anyone can smell them
ten miles from any airport?

Deliverance

2011-06-07T07:00:00.000-07:00

Anal retentive plans
her ecstasy,
euphoric
in her accountant's world.

Until witnessing
underworld murder,
entering witness protection program
who used radical appearance
for safety.

Traumatized
by new identity,
dreaming of lobotomy,
hiding from neighbor,
a psychotic vigilante
that says a couple
they're meant to be,
offering severed ears
as jewelry.

Perception's Unblemished Aura

2011-06-06T07:00:00.000-07:00

Plumes of matchless purity
bedecked in silent, stunning effulgence,
array in the mesmerizing gape of elegance
perception's unblemished aura.

Alabaster tinctures,
fate's gift from the womb,
beguile in their angelic facsimile.

Breathless beauty blown by nature's breath
brings its scent in spellbound charms,
but its aroma summons a blend of reactions,
turning toxic as envy's stench
instead of fragrant as appreciation's incense.

Feathers of outer opulence
never a glimpse at the splendor within,
where words uttered
expose the echoes of majesty in the soul
or the pungent perfume of hate's ugly wind.

Butchered

2011-06-05T07:00:00.000-07:00

She hated the feel from bits of bloody flesh
left on the floor from her dad’s butcher shop
always made her nearly vomit
when he made her crawl on hands and knees
though that mass of mutilated dripping beef.

Love was the insanity of tolerating
his moods of carving and slicing
making sure she never missed any gruesome detail
no matter how it much it turned her stomach.

What was worse came with the screams
for he always slaughtered his victims
how they would cry and shout in deafening tones
from the basement where they had been lead.

If only he didn’t make her watch
as he would decapitated and then begin
removing their organs,
when some broiled meat was placed before her
that he had killed only recently,
her mind was trapped she that defenseless creature’s face
those sad eyes and made it hard for her
to truly consume the serving without being upset.

Still, he insisted she eat every bite
waste was a sin and no excuse,
so she slowly ate it even
though at times he refuse to let her wash off her body
after having helped in his shop.

Some nights she was terrified by nightmares
each somehow related to her father’s job,
always left her with horrible disfigured image,
which linger in her head all day.
The smell only made things worse
on hot days when it grew to be lot rotting meat,
it was enough to keep her from ever wanting
another mouthful of that type of meal.

Perhaps she escape soon enough
then forget this horror,
there had to be a place in the world
with a chance to live
free from a parent
who is a devout cannibal.

Uncontrollable

2011-06-04T07:00:00.000-07:00

Our eyes met and it was kismet’s ticket
at that deserted juncture in life
far from the stations that lead to dreams.

One look possessed our hearts utterly lost and out on control
hopelessly aware we were on collision course,
unable to keep them from racing
every muscle tight and tense
with a pumping, pounding power,
the intense raging rush inside
that stirred our minds in dizzying daze.

But the ride was so flush with adrenaline
surely it was divine in its intent,
never worried the possible consequence
for something that felt so good couldn’t ever be bad
then came the moment the journey became an accident,
how it rammed my head against reality’s walls.

Was a jaunt that didn’t end as I hoped,
learned so painfully in long lament on that internet track,
love is a conductor who is also the engineer
that gives you a seat knowing the rails end at a canyon.

Lesson’s Learned

2011-06-03T07:00:00.000-07:00

Life can be a very demanding teacher
when we don’t always do the homework,
think we can strut by our own wisdom
while searching for some trophy.

How tumbled are the steps taken
if running by our own timer,
though we feel a tinge of apprehension
from knowing we tried a style
truly troubled and tantamount to bruises,
because the warning signs sent a telegraph
so visible to our senses
that we ignore as inklings to discard.

Even though they come in tender hints
our inner telephone of impulse
has dialed the number for the will,
far too happy to listen to that mentor
no matter how many times it proves wrong

February Second Visions

2011-06-02T07:00:00.000-07:00

And he gazed from that nice warm hole
out at the world with ground hog thoughts,
saw two nerds with camera arguing over if snow needed a flash,
a cop twirling handcuffs and singing some Opera ballad,
two old ladies walking their pet poodles
while holding silver pooper scoopers with smiling faces.

Then this mountain of a construction worker
stomped by carrying a chainsaw and beer,
he smoked a cigar and bellowed about roots
before suddenly pulling out some knitting
that he used to calm his frail nerves.

Three teenagers skipped by carrying a blaring stereo boom box,
they were assaulted by an angry gang of girl scouts
that were on noise pollution crusades.

But the poor ground hog just sighed
for this new subdivision they built near his hole
didn’t look so insane when it started,

Time to go back to sleep
before deciding if he will take up
his cousin’s invite to move to Punsutawney!

Dancing

2011-06-01T07:00:00.000-07:00

She dreamt with hope’s ballet slippers
the liberty air in lofty pirouettes
on the breathes
of promises like lifting helium balloons.

They were the flights
in Paper Mache fabrications
with invisible strings
cleverly wired to howling puppeteers.

And severing the lines of legalese lies
always leaves tattoos you can’t erase.

Getting My Money’s Worth

2011-05-31T07:00:00.000-07:00

I called the Super Deluxe Service Company
to come and repair my air conditioning,
they were so professional and efficiency
that they actually came out
before I even called.

And so affordable that they did the service
for less that it cost
so after they were done
instead of a bill,
what I got was a refund.

Why there is no company like this one,
which has never failed to provide
perfect and complete service
even when they never show up
since they got the job done
without actually having to do any work.

So come and enjoy this miracle
it will make you so darn happy,
in fact you will want to break your AC
to have a chance to admire their work
whether they do any or not.

I’m sure you will enjoy
the added benefit
of their money back guarantee,
but since you can’t read what is says,
all you can do is savor
those words you imagine are there.

Crawling

2011-05-30T07:00:00.000-07:00

Forgiveness’s petals
grow
after naked crawls

where bruises
heal
from love’s bandages.

Confidence

2011-05-29T07:00:00.000-07:00

Never fear
eight balls

when you’re nimble

and holes
are only
litter boxes!

Stereo Instructions

2011-05-28T07:00:00.000-07:00

The paragon of idyllic dulcet resonance
awaited at the stereo store,
replete with a manual of miniscule details,
that allowed the listener
to savor the most incredible stereophonic quintessence,
a fantastic plethora of amazing reverberations
more intense and vivid
than any sounds the ear could detect.

It’s fame as an hearing wizard
able to summon fantastic audible expressions
drew flocks to purchase it
by scores in patrons,
all lusting for a chance
at hearing the impossible,
a butterfly’s fluttering wings,
the sounds of grass growing
even the tones of ice melting.

How quickly people brought them home
obsessed to hook up their new equipment,
barely flipping through the instructions,
most failing to notice the warning page
about setting the controls
so they filtered out certain frequencies
known to result in causing insanity.

In homes around the land
people sit with headphones on,
minds fried from those dark decimal detriments,
but with smiles on their face
from the smugness of being too smart
for truly perceiving the words in a manual.

Catching Shadows

2011-05-27T07:00:00.000-07:00

I saw ogres in the shade,
ran away
from their darkness,
but they roared
in my solitude,
until I stopped running
and exposed the illusion
beyond my fears.

Holding The Dream

2011-05-26T07:00:00.000-07:00

Holding the dream through the frail excursion of promises
to let the heart hear the soft echoes in sweet assurance
that tomorrow our love won’t become a feigned truth,
a gossamer memory that fades from the fingers,
slowly left to hold the wind instead of a touch.

But I shall not let your night
fall into the crypt in loneliness,
left to dwell in the ache of only hearing words
and not feeling the gentle tremors linger
from those tender traces made upon you skin.

For my darling let our love be the fireplace,
which you sit by with flames from our times together
as the warmth that will not cool,
even though this moment keeps me distant,
it is only until I can once again hold you.

Nothing shall prevent my return,
no weather, time or test,
because you are the strength of my soul,
the only reason I have to even breathe.

So when you gaze into that emptiness
picture me there coming towards you,
and while the solitude holds you hostage
know that I will always come to your rescue
with your face my only light to keep me alive
until our arms once again can embrace in oneness.

Cataclysms

2011-05-25T07:00:00.000-07:00

How many times leaders see
the wispy curtain of inclement inklings
spread as a sprawling leaden sheet over the sky,
but use a calculator in the head to digest
what the torrid canvas truly suggests to our mind.

Even when any calendar of the past
records the peril of such harm,
which is on time’s ledger for comparison,
inward is often the voice of lethargic reasoning
as an atrophy of acumen’s astute eyes,
who wil not discern the real potent demise
that lies outside the comfort zone
where they dwell in the illusion of true control,
still treating the will as crown over every climate,
then channel an impotence in reaction
through rationale’s corridor in justified inactivity.

But then when the camera of consequence
reveals the fodder in every creature
left as shrapnel of that cataclysm cannon,
it is dealt with by sermonized excuses
so impassioned in their feigned compassion.

What tragedy lingers in the truth
of how this is a circle too often in human behavior,
sadly one that history records
through the enduring nature of institutionalized rulership,
when facing the warning signs of imminent destruction.

They Never Mentioned This Back In The Hen House

2011-05-24T07:00:00.000-07:00

We thought we had it made,
no chicks inside to ruin our lives,
just sitting in that nice comfy carton
thinking the good life
was out there for us.

Sure was nice and cool in that ice box,
man thought this was a sign
of how good luck
had come our way.

Then that lady with a friendly face
woke us from a nap to put us in a cart,
thought it was something great.

Now this agony awaits
makes us watch this cruel fate
heard rumors about some one
called Humpty Dumpty
by the kids on the farm
who knew they meant us
and our shells would come to this end?

Fragile

2011-05-23T07:00:00.000-07:00

Like rose petals,
life blossoms in the wind,
but wither so quickly,
then decay
when replaced by thorns
as the heart’s flowers.

Slices

2011-05-22T07:00:00.000-07:00

And the steel feels cold and smooth
when you first touch the edge,
harmless at first never causing fear
until that first slice of stress
slowly swipes over the skin.

But how can this be?
This wound from one you trust
who said I love you
then produces a blade
you thought was to cut away
any violations to your love,
only the blood drains
from deep inside.

Suddenly it hurts
more than any pain.
Until you walk way
dripping from the cut,
continuing to lie to yourself
how it wasn’t that bad
as you slowly pass out.

National Traffic Law Amnesty Day

2011-05-21T07:00:00.000-07:00

There are no good holidays in August,
aren’t we truly deprived in that month,
so let’s make it one day when traffic laws don’t count,
when for once there are no stop signs or signal lights,
just travel by your own desires on any side of the road.

Now it is a day when horns don’t exist or brake lights either
press that accelerator until it hurts,
because for once we can totally feel freedom behind the wheel,
no traffic jams since any place can be used as a road
with only rule you can’t sue if you have an accident
for everyone is given amnesty for their driving.

How it would make life less serious as we could even dress up,
be a gorilla or monster no big problem
then if we were really feeling lucky
we could even let the insane out to drive or the blind.

Reveries

2011-05-20T07:00:00.000-07:00

Pangs of the soul in embryonic swells within
as gyrations of passion’s seeds fermenting
from the reveries percolating in the heart.

And fear strangles desire's umbilical cord
slowly transforming the mind's inventive angel
that is the winged vision of future feel
until it stings inside as a steady ache.

Wishing out of regret to cease the torment,
writhing from its fetal truth of unborn creative stillness,
yet the womb of will wants its child.
The offspring of what love has wrought
in the nights of entwined thoughts.

Torn between letting go and dwelling
at the intuitive ward in maternity of expression,
always agonized by the pain of waiting
for life to come unto what is imagined.

Every day of another dream left stillborn
is another morning of struggle.
But the poet is the muse’s surrogate
and being a parent of verse
finally comes in its delivery.
Sometimes sweaty,
sometimes with misery,
though always proud of your infant’s life.

Five Minutes To Five

2011-05-19T07:00:00.000-07:00

Five minutes to five,
and then I would escape,
just three hundred seconds
before the plans and plots would be realized.
All the strategy and deception, every detail considered,
writing down those customer facts on that piece of paper,
not risking using the copier nor the computer,
since both were monitored.

So many months of waiting
until the perfect opportunity availed itself,
then leaving the office with that information
on the back of a business card slipped into my wallet,
behind my driver’s license,
it was simple, flawless and perfect or so I assumed.

Then my boss asked to see me,
his poker face always hiding his true feelings,
he spoke of the way some employees
carelessly tossed confidential data into the trash.

Stared at me with those steel blue eyes,
reminding me that violating company privacy could lead to termination.

I mumbled a few words,
but could tell he had someone figured out my ploy,
heart beating faster as I started to sweat,
claiming I was running a temperature from having a cold.

The tension great tight in my muscles,
finally leaving his office and work,
yet aware I had managed to screw up somehow,
my con I thought was working had obviously failed,
my double life as turn coat accountant,
clearly ending with a question mark,
could I figure a way to replace that evidence
knowing I was now constantly under surveillance,
hoping I could get job with the competitor paying for other data,
though I knew they seldom rewarded those who disappointed.
And do it all before he finally found a way to prove
that I was guilty of corporate espionage.

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Armor

2011-05-18T07:00:00.000-07:00

I heard the cling of her armor
it shined from her bruised eyes,
sword clutched in her hand
from the last hug.

There was battle on her lips
out of the field of slaughtered
where hearts were martyr
on the way to a wedding.

Then I set aflame
over her metal
until it melted
though she felt its pain,
but in her scorched nakedness
we walked,
unto a pool of tears,
bathing in its waters
cleansed the scars
leaving only a thirst
for what honey could replace
once her defenses where shambles.

Engulfed

2011-05-17T07:00:00.000-07:00

Peace hides from me in this sanctuary,
ferns cloak the portraits I have feared,
I sit in the doorway
between my emptiness and future,
dying in the serenity,
unable to forgive,
can’t erase what scalds my heart.

This passage through lush foliage vest
a sojourn sought for silent tranquility,
some sweet hush for the screams
of my own pain,
wanting, desperately aching,
for a tomorrow without pain.

Seeking every fissure of bliss
in the emerald shaded tapestry,
inhaling the rich colors and cool air,
yet it restraining its balm
as if my barren life was unworthy.

Irony digs its heels into my brain,
a loft I came
by seer’s aid,
astral touch upon this Eden,
promised to purge
my deepest wounds.

Voyager through that white tunnel,
deposited in this oasis,
was another wanderer’s stop sign,
one more diamond shattered when held.

Engulfed in the clarity,
traveling to splendor
only heals
when you finally accept yourself.

Bumper Souls

2011-05-16T07:00:00.000-07:00

Oh my god Ethel,
I knew you said we were soul mates,
sharing the same destiny,
but didn’t know that meant
reincarnating like this
for doing it so much
in the back seat of cars.

Wouldn’t complain
if you hadn’t had so many passengers
other than me,
finding that out now
sure ain’t making me shout with jubilee.

Could have let me know,
seeing how you were psychic and all,
that cheating with that gal mechanic
would also bring this kind of karma..

What am I supposed to do now?
My stiff “tailpipe” won’t
begin to fill your trunk.
Don’t even have a right hand
to do some special cruising.

And will you stop looking
at that darn limo
with that enormous equipment.

Stop flirting with your horn,
because I don’t care what you say,
it ain’t a poetry kind of horny.

Now I know that I’m in trouble,
you got that stud as an owner,
bet he’ll please all your knobs,
while I got some dude dressed in pink,
sure hope he don’t plan on filling my tank
using something other than gas.

What If

2011-05-15T07:00:00.000-07:00

What if this dimension doesn’t exists?
And if all we know and hope to learn
is a delusion of someone’s indigestion
who died eons ago
in another realm
where flesh and blood are in fact
mere hallucinations
with inanimate objects
the only actual form of life?

Or perhaps reality is a spiral
of ascending levels in consciousness
connected by dream silk,
where we slide along its threads
before birth and after death,
in between having flashbacks.

Then all the minds we call insane
would be prophets and seers
along the entwined invisible lairs of existence,
leaving what we think is chaos
being the wisdom
that is truth
beyond this place
where we dwell.

Déjà vu and nightmares
serving as the soft and numbing echoes
from the night touches of the brain,
which visit terraces in lucidity
nagging at our thoughts
as abstract images
we just never can explain.

The World Is Made Of Clay

2011-05-14T07:00:00.000-07:00

The world is made of clay
to be shaped and molded
anyway our minds care to see,
in either splendor or waste
a planet blessed or doomed.

We can watch fertile fields
and see only death and decay
or gaze at a rubbish littered land
with eyes that discover treasures.

In the heart remains the gems
found by our wandering ways
happy when we discover hope
among the soil sought and searched.

Upon this mantle of earthen features
there is the rhythmic resonance
totally ringing its tones
deep into our senses.

Is it a song we celebrate,
a memorable tune with magic
instead of some funeral dirge,
it is up to our choice
our thoughts to gleam
what we define as beauty.

How we easily elect
what is the taste we find
among the flavors
spilled by this spinning orb’s
many sources of wells.

Just Keeps Getting Better And Better

2011-05-13T07:00:00.000-07:00

Oh dear god, this has got to stop,
first being stuck in that lab
running that stupid maze
and the whole time
having to worry
the scientist pet cat was going to
fancy me his dinner!

Got out of that one
snuck out through this hole,
only now I’m not sure
I’m all the better off.

The man had such a nice smile,
how was I to know,
he would stick me in this computer thing
to test reactions to hand soaps.

Bad enough all this testers have sweaty hands,
but getting stuck breathing these scents
sure ain’t making me day,
yeah, honeysuckle was okay
only why did the maniac
blend it with litter box and sauerkraut?

Just feeling so tired from holding my breath
since I got a whiff of his latest creation,
onion, road kill, manure and strawberry!

If I’m lucky I figure a way to escape
before he gets even more insane.

Her Silhouette

2011-05-12T07:00:00.000-07:00

Each scenic stretch silently shares her image
felt in the quiet ways that touch so deep
as Mother Earth becomes more like a being,
beating her heart in the tremors felt
the rain coming like her tears
and the wind blowing her breath
to remind the planet is not just soil,
but also a very source of life
where we can sense the way she has a womb
that was a birth for more that creation.

So we stroll each inch of her presence
while it touches in so many subtle ways,
though we may ignore those soft strokes
upon on our conscious,
which quietly nudge our thoughts.

It’s all a walk we take with her
any time we wander among her landscapes
let the sky summon its song
or find some music in the animals.

How it all is part of her profile
when we take time to truly look,
though often we have not paid attention
during our pursuit of our own curiosities.

Torn Dream

2011-05-12T05:41:00.001-07:00

She walked the tightrope of her heart
from best friend to the bride
and yet holding a torch for the groom.

Alone, the smile fades and tears flow,
stumbling over the sorrow
until she catches her gown on the edge of a dresser.

Panic presses in the sight of the hole,
her mind races for a solution,
soon finding a needle and thread,
it will be enough for the ceremony
though it will never heal
the hole inside for love that will never be.

Vernal Mirrors

2011-05-11T07:00:00.000-07:00

Petals of thoughts sown,
shining inward passions,
stir a scent of illumination
over garden within.

Rolling On

2011-05-10T07:00:00.000-07:00

We’re ready to rock and roll
and take over roller derby!
Going call our team
the Pooper Pack
just know we can whip
all those adults
when we leave
a dirty diaper on the track.

Oh yeah, we’re spoil and proud of it,
but we plan on proofing
when it comes to skating
us bad boys don’t take crap
off of anyone!

Sure will do our best
to pass it on to others
by spreading our poopy pants
every where we can
so none of those other teams
can every be able to stand
then it’s the championship for us
because we are winners
so anxious to be the champs!

War Is Hell Without The Right Stuff!

2011-05-09T07:00:00.000-07:00

How can you fight a decent war,
blow up things and destroy cities
with all these darn ridiculous costs!

Plus there is all that problem
of getting kids ready for being warriors
early enough to truly be soldiers
by the time they are twelve years old.

Now a solution has come,
one of pure brilliance,
thanks to the Santa Claus War Monger’s Manufacturers
who have mixed silly putty with C-4 explosives.

What battle bliss we can have
when tiny hands
can mold this marvelous creation
into something truly lethal,
which being so small,
they can sneak into an enemy's underwear
before going back to the new North Pole basic training camp.

Oh there are plans to expand this amazing effort,
water pistols filled with cyanide,
sling shots that fight arsenic tipped darts,
yes the new Army of ten year olds
will play with toy guns that really fire bullets.

And thank to the vision
of the President of our corporation,
General Nuke Em, Slaughterfest The Hun,
our future is assured and we can finally have
the pearls of aggression
wrapped around our neck
after every child is armed and ready
to help purge the world of armed threats
even if we have to utterly destroy
anyone over the age of twenty one
in order to gain peace.

Toes

2011-05-08T07:00:00.000-07:00

Steps in the woods within the mind
among fallen trees of dreams,
where innocence first skinned its shins
and angels lost their wings.

Still feeling the pain
of stubbed toes incurred
when trying to upon a mountain
built by the promises of those trusted.

Seasons passed and having walked so far,
yet lured again to that forest
that once help the magic of hope,

Now, visit clad in shoes,
which give nakedness a leathery strength
so you stand on that brook
filled with tears from violated visions,
they help to buffer from the remembered pains,
though the scars still hurt,
but returning gives them
a sense of healing.

Rollercoasters

2011-05-07T07:00:00.000-07:00

Three decades and more
I've ridden the nuptial rollercoaster,
in company of the same person,
a journey of both smiles and frowns,
life adding its own twits and turns,
facing unemployment, deaths, illness,
they all add to the scenery you share for good or bad.

Along the way, the heart still beats,
you try to remember why this thing called marriage
became the major attraction of you very existence.

Perfect and paradise are two words
with phantom meanings,
but whether it is an amusement park
or torture chamber
is based on what resides within the heart.

Something shared in tears and laughter
becomes the stare of silent acceptance,
living most or the times when a thrill comes your way,
dreading the moments when an accidents happen.

Kids, debts and duties
all weave together as a mantle of thought,
love a place you keep redefining,
compromise the storybook of reality,
anniversaries the fragile capstone of one's glass house,
built upon a foundation of I do.

IF

2011-05-06T07:00:00.000-07:00

And she painted paradise among the insanity,
using positive words to show us something good and gold
in the ruins of our dreams where we had to live.

Oh we wanted to believe in the impossible,
especially after she gave us vivid details
of how to repair and replace what didn’t work.

It was so thrilling and made us excited,
we were ready to accept perfection
just because of all her confidence.

But the days passed without change
with her eventually just vanishing
while we were haunted by the lost hope.

Turned out this expert forgot to mention
it all would only work, “if,” her meds still functioned,
they didn’t and we found ways to thrive on our own fantasies.

Yellow Lights

2011-05-05T07:00:00.000-07:00

She fought against sickness
to chase her dreams
of being a marathon runner,
fighting out of bedridden starting block
where the cancer had left her crippled.

But her heart refused to give up,
months of treatment
faced with courage,
finally overcoming and battling the pain,
at last restore to be in that race,
receiving the ribbon
for crossing the finish line,
brought for the pearls of tears
their luster of joy from survival
a décor she would cherished forever.

They burn my eyes
with flashing surprise,
heart races
to avoid their warning disaster

Pedal defiance
presses against reason,
accelerated pulse
going to beat intersection demand
just because I can.

Red light makes me liar,
one on police car
reminds
life can stop desires
regardless how hard I drive.

Room To Cry

2011-05-04T07:00:00.000-07:00

I dreamt of daze in utopia existence,
a place of floating visions
vividly flying through my brain.
The beauty of their passions
moving through the heart
and it was paradise
an amusement park for the mind,
one special charmed sanctuary
where I could thrive and feel alive,
glowing from the magic an power.

Problem is when you don’t have keys
when someone else owns the doors
who don’t care about your fantasies.

Then your guts get ripped out by the reality
this perfect place of blessing
was the joy of a first glance.

It died in fading thrums of thought
slipping away silently,
in the vacuum that remained
there was an emptiness.

What my mind and soul had as hope
became a chamber of ghosts
made by a medicine man dreamer
that lured me into that den
because I was hungry for the taste
of dreams spun into something I could hold.

All that linger in the disappointment
where the barker of happiness had fled
was a room to sob in solitude
paying the price another had
not worried would have to be paid.

Foraging Neath The Tangerine Sky

2011-05-03T07:00:00.000-07:00

My heart is draped
under dauntless plumes,
standing, ever standing
like an unbendable reed.

Fueled by feathered flights
gliding from summer into winter.
For my soul cleaves to the day
when the ebbing tangerine sun
remains a flame within the veins.

Ever weeping
those deep groans of grief
over the wisps of conquerors
whose mortality
withered before their dreams.

Still erect and resilient in the wake
of all that blows its fan of change
across the face, form and feelings.
Like a knife it cuts away
at the vigor of youth,
each flush in the vitality of pride.

Yet time has no claws
for the spirit
remaining resolved
and radiant in each recess.

Oh to kiss that stretch of night
intoxicating by
an airy beauty of believe
How it is where
there is a lingering tease
totally unyielding in its yearning,
because in the marrow
years have forged iron.

Warmed in that sunset’s citrine sea
unto the caress of throbbing
is formed the passage
filled with passionate breaths
so rich and intense
while others now sleep.

WE, are the voice that rises
out of the earth’s
crevices in consciousness.
Still the crane remains
unscathed of those moans,
ever ready to grab
by a fledgling's craving hold.

One tear baptizes
through its annual christening
over the lost loves
who ceased to soar.

Though the silky
texture of winged drifts
has turned leather
under so many
honeyed afternoons,
today is yesterday and tomorrow
when the mind can still dance
its waltz of sky born spells
upon the billowy carpet
with an ageless solo
in the heart.

Sweat House Goddess

2011-05-02T07:00:00.000-07:00

They are lean and taunt
every muscle sculpted by exercise,
always wearing those tight white tank tops
accentuating every gorgeous line
and those bullet shaped breasts
that are so firm and voluptuous.

Course they never stop looking in the mirror
to admire their divine shape,
unless it is to be on the cell phone
talking to one of their many worshippers,
their conversations sometimes
worthy of some sex chat.

How they make sure to move
so every feature of their form
is noticed by all the male eyes,
careful to walk on the treadmill
with those swaying hips to torment,
making sure they never sweat
for it might risk ruining their perfect hair.

But still they do make for such an appealing sight
giving you reason to dream and fantasize,
sometimes getting so caught up
imagining such thrills,
you can have the best cardio work out you’ve ever had.

Not the recommend option though
since the trainers think you are a fanatic
about your routine,
then they start trying to get you to do more,
which you try since you don’t want to admit
about the real reason of pure lust.

Eventually figuring out some lie
in order to get a break without being embarrass
and vowing as you have so often before
you won’t let those goddesses
make you go stupid again.

Enchanted

2011-05-01T07:00:00.000-07:00

Enchanted is the magic in the heart,
sunlight that you see in golden glows,
flowers held as if they could sing.

Spells are the wind that inspires,
eyes able to see stories
among the many lands and lives
touched on a journey
across bridges build in the mind.

We choose the dream created
within each moment seen,
find good or evil before our view,
believe in the impossible
or merely live in a prison.

Mother Goose whispers her secrets
unto those who seek,
beauty in each image,
looked at with curiosity instead of complaint.

Giants and dragons
dance through tomorrow
when you hear more than sadness,
feel more than despair,
for it is a choice held inside
to hold a wand or ruler to the world
and speak of fairies, legends and joys
rather than the death of the day.

The Song

2011-04-30T07:00:00.000-07:00

To see the womb of creation
in the places where Mother Earth
has touched
and know this life is, but a gift,
brings a song into the heart.

Finding its notes
written in bark, stone and so much more,
an everlasting serenade of inspiration
for being grateful to have every breath,
walking through the sand and grass
under the spreading canvas of blue
just happy to be able to savor its majesty.

Learning to live its music
as a bird,
letting wings within
spread in joy's lifting winds.

Ripples

2011-04-29T07:00:00.000-07:00

Silent psalm in secret subdued fury,
nature's watery fingers flowing softly
through the rustic core,
but having left their liquid prints
sculptured in hollowed messages,
Mother Earth's words with a visually stunning stain.

They bring their remnant essence
into the mind as metaphors of presumption's ruination,
and stir reminders of life's transcendence.

A note written that deeply sketches itself
within one's consciousness's parchment,
how there is no time of surety's seconds
when what stands defiant
can't feel a ripple from powers beyond its grasp.

Awe flows in the gaze,
this majesty of miracle
tending in its muted splendor,
that appreciated thundering in awakening,
about how the frail sheath that beats in our preoccupations
is never a concrete hearth.

Another scenic sonnet,
which speaks in its potent majestic artistry,
the inspiration for a passion
to never take a single glance
without knowing it might not come again.

Savoring the Truth

2011-04-28T07:00:00.000-07:00

Fearless feline sleeps
taunts his favorite canine
knowing Fido's chain is tight.

Cat dreaming new plots
enjoys secret of cunning
meow plans worst threat than barks.

This Isn’t Missouri, But Shut Up Anyway!

2011-04-27T07:00:00.000-07:00

How come every nut who is delusional
seems to know my name?
And is able to prove the most insane truths
because they couldn’t tell reality
if God came and explained it to them.

Now excuse me,
if I might not be from Missouri,
known as the “show me state,”
so please don’t tell me the sky is made of sauerkraut
before you toss some on a paper cloud
as validity that you are right.

I’ve heard the zealots, fanatics and disciplines
who worship everything from bushes to trash cans
explain their wisdom with such passion,
only without a single ounce of credibility.

Maybe aliens are running the government,
the Loch Ness Monster is wife
to the dude who built the pyramids,
or there are vending machines that are immortal,
really don’t want to know
because unless they are going to pay my bills,
make my life other than one long yawn,
just spare me any evidence of their existence.

Don’t Ask

2011-04-26T07:00:00.000-07:00

I am the crab of my own persuasion
always moving sideways
when answering any question,
my moods fluctuate with no warning,
while behind my eyes
are secrets I may or may not share.

The shell I occupy is in my head,
don’t ask me to open the door
just wait until the inspiration strikes,
then I’ll gladly let you in,
but look quick
because you never know
what second my attitude will change.

Like an ocean are the currents
creating the waves of my emotions,
they’ll wash in so many directions
waxing and waning in their intensity
until my behavior
seems most like a full moon dementia.

If you can ride the crest of my thought tides
learn to know it is just the whirlpool within
tugging and twisting my spirit
and not the result of your conversation,
what you’ll discover in my quiet cove
where most never are allowed to visit
are the pure waters of insight
we can both swim
before the sharks I sense with my mind’s eye
make me close the beach again.

Happy New Year!

2011-04-25T07:00:00.000-07:00

We going to have a big bash for 2013,
since the year before things are sort of strange,
whole cities sinking into holes,
oh those Mayans sure were so smart.
Their calendar is freaking us all out,
at least those who survive
on those government arks.
And don’t the Himalayas really look so grand
in December of 2012.

But cheer up world,
some will survive,
some will dance and sing.
Though most will be buried
under tons of earth
still the survivors will deserve a party.

Darn nasty neutrinos from that solar flare
is going to give all us fits.
It's okay since John Cusack wrote about it
while driving his limousine
for some big shot billionaire
with a ticket in the life saving,
super rich ark lottery!

Don’t blink or you might miss it all,
might end up wiped out forever.
Yet it is all good,
perfectly fine,
this is only a movie,
well in 2011 it is cool.

Don’t make any plans
that will take more than two years
because we got hope for a sequel
in order make us freak out less.
There’s just no fun in Hollywood
planning the end of the world
unless you got box off options
from a second flick!

Lunch Time

2011-04-24T07:00:00.000-07:00

When noon strikes my stomach
like an alarm clock
screaming in my brain,
I want food, sustenance,
something to eat
that ends my hunger.

But I can’t go to lunch
with Carl very often,
for to seek a feast
having him as a companion
means to hear every tale
about some former tummy disaster.

He’ll moan so slowly
each sordid detail of pass ptomaine pains.
Including the trip to the hospital,
whining and scouing the menu
explaining the potential sickness
you could possibly get
from eating a burger or bowl of soup.
Slowly his eyes will widen
in a crazed panic
about how tomorrow's servings will be worse.
Eventually he’ll get headache
over all his former meal doom
and the fear of what will come.
Settling for crackers and a glass of beer
before sobbing uncontrollably
while muttering about sugar and caffeine
are infected with bugs,
then he’ll nearly pass out from the anxiety.

Meanwhile I order my favorite entree,
not thinking at all about other noons.
At least I can enjoy the entertainment
plus watching the snickers of other patrons.