Griddle sermons

Would you like
some philosophy
with those fried eggs ?

Free advice
cascades like rivers
of fresh juice
greasy story tongs
lift crackling sausages
upon serving plates
dressed with buttered toast
jam-packed with
social commentary
a side order
of cautionary tales
dished out hot
regales
patiently gleaming forks
awaiting their reason
for being

What’s that burning smell?

Someone asks

breakfast sizzles onward
undeterred
arrival time –
indefinite.

Juicy glides
across my puckered pout
catches
a curve of light
I’m not really
this young
Or fresh anymore
it’s an elaborate ruse
to ensnare your stare .

stripes  
never made it very high
on my fashion forward
list
the only one that wears
them well
is  the
cloud smeared sky
in this small town
tonight

from me tonight
mind  riddled
with thoughts run amuck
thunder claps punctuate
my well worn worries
while rain pelts
strong  enough
for gushy Spring grass
  fills  ditches
spilling  over
  with purple wildflowers.

destined to rise
on this
  November night
every full moon  
these past months  
wore
a special  name  
this one fits
so very well
finally
this  calendar year  
draws ever closer
to an end
moments
and  loved ones
simply framed
by  a bright moon
in a dark sky  
of mournful
memories

They ran past me
at breakneck speed
to capture
those  
last minute
trinkets
of love
I never cared
much for anyway
until  I no longer  
had them
to look
forward
to

Rummage
through Christmas decorations
headed for the garage

forced  order  
onto random bits  and bobs
a long forgotten bag
yields a wrapped bar
of motel soap
at the very bottom
who's very existence
spins me in a split second
backwards
to  all those days and nights
of our tragedy

How did I ever survive this thing?
Have I yet?

it offers  me no real answers

just continues
to look crisply unused

and wildly
out of place

Who dares to steal
in the dead of night
sacred morsels
right out
from under his nose
mount an inquisition
follow the trail
to it’s deviant source
Halt !
he bellows
who goes there
brandishing implements  
of sacrilege
close the gates  
seal off the moat
no ones leaves until
such savagery
is exposed
cunning lies
stuck down
under the white hot glare
of the fridge light
clandestine cheese snatchers
   take heed
your nibbles
are numbered !

is already  here
that cusp month
between summer  and fall
not wishing those  last fireflies  
good bye
turning of  leaves
   on countdown
palpable desires
for  apple cider  
and pumpkin pies  
starting to rise
welcoming  crisp air  
autumn festivals
like a  long lost love
before  winter
claws at the door  
it's cold grasp  
mere   months  away
until then  
September  weaves
a   transitional
spell
across  landscapes
summer's last gasps
sputters
          through
growing lawns
laced with biting bugs
until
mama nature
finally  decides
to toss
  those crunchy colorful
leaf rugs
***** nilly
all about
the countryside.

on
this ramble scramble
hillside
aka
as our front yard
fill it full of
Kentucky wild onions
strewn through
grass buds  
and funky mushrooms
snow’s all gone
puddles dry
for now
freckle me up
pretty please
infuse
 some
serious sunshine
into this
winter  wearied  
brow

almost
full moon face
smilingly
rests on a comfy shelf cloud
waning daylight hours
blanket  
the rich dip dyed purple dusk  
spreading it’s favor
seamlessly  into
a star strewn
night sky

fireflies dance
along the edge
of summer's last hurrah
as cooler air
deliciously descends
over
this small town night
daytime still etched by
the sweltering sun
in a ridiculously blue sky
relieved eyes spy
tender mercies
finally  foretold
in the subtle turning
of  random leaves
along the road

teased
taunted
terrorized
tormented
into
mouth melting sin
hell's fire
  hastens my tongue
as it becomes
a slippery slide to
depravity
fistfuls meant
for shared  reverie  
become  resident hostages
in my domain
as sole proprietor
of this *****
chemical high
I laugh
at pale  attempts  
to fool me  
with sweet haloed
  innocence
no paltry  impostor
stands a chance
only the real deal  
sways
my  greedy  favor.

Orb of amber sizzling-
like fried egg,
on griddle blue sky.


Peanut butter puffs
fill the air-
spotted dog reclines,
dreaming of steak.


Beaded lamp shines-
across desk, dresses
dark corners in light.

                   Purple velvet sky -                  
                 sprinkled rhinestone stars,
                  fuchsia horizon beckons.


                   Empty Koi pond, dark
                  murky water hosting only –
                       green algae.

nobody out here
but the birds
to see my
rain flattened 'do
the bunnies are getting busy
the squirrels kindly
drop peanuts
for our  greedy hound
but frankly
I don’t think
the chipmunks
give a flip

you are the color
of my gypsy soul
tiny letters
on the bottom of a tube
I can no longer see
without bifocal assistance
sweetly simple
smooth wax motion
over my pucker
that shapely stick
helps redraw
my daily destiny
like bees to honey
my man  
kisses and tells
you look like
a million bucks
baby