Keith J Collard

Keith J Collard Apr 2015

I used to sing that song " Im the man,Im the man ,Im the man."

But then my girl would hit me with a frying pan, frying pan, frying pan.

Now i lip sync so she cant understand, understand, understand.

For all she knows im saying yes m'am yes m'am yes m'am...but under my breath im the man im the man im the man.

Keith J Collard Apr 2015

Diamond Cage

You must die--whilst alive--to leave your cage. I once had a talking parrot--who lied--saying his luxury confinement was "quite ok."  On an african hunt for the diamond carrot, is where i stole him back to Bombay.
Then before returning on consignment--my pet parrot wished with me a parley.
      "Can you bring me back any messages--and tell them i am quite alright"--when i told this to a crying parrot--he quickly died on sight.
I told this to my pet when i returned--and he cried and did the same.  I sadly tossed him in the *******--but then i realized what the message contained--because he got up and flew away.

( lol, i was watching a self help speaker on tv last night, and he told a old indian parable, thought it would be catchy as a poem.)

Keith J Collard Nov 2014

L'Estranger

No care in the world,
war, death, or girl,
isn't it so arbitraire,
the beauty of a pearl--
or the color of her hair?
my mother died yesterday,
and I did not care.
Algerian cafes are nice,
but only with the glare,
that comes from the sea,
sending me so inwardly,
if x happens, or z,
it doesn't matter to me,
I don't see his face in the sand,
I know priests must make a living,
and dunes makes up this prison,
that is fine, but I rather parley
with wine--seaside  at the café--
why must religion,
always come from a prison,
maybe if it was out there,
he could walk on water
because of the glare,
and I can see the arbitraire
golden blond of her hair,
instead she cries,
that I am going to die,
and you messieurs,
might as well be x or y,
and religion arbitraire as  pearls,
can I have a smoke?
maybe I'l see him in the curls,
x or y, I still lose my life,
shooting a man with a knife,
now I am tiring,
I do not know why I kept firing,
it was so hot that day,
I was squinting, I could barely see,
oh her skin when she exits water,
I only wanted to get back to Marie,
drink wine with bagets,
under the river lining sycamore trees,
now messieurs, I ask you to leave,
for I am to die,
because for my mother I did not cry,
and you despair for me,
YOUR RELIGION IS SWEAT IN THE EYE,
we should be calling the waiter seaside,
YES I AM TO DIE,
FOR YOUR LIGHT,
IS  GLARE--
BRINGING SQUINTING DARKNESS TO MY MIND,
AND THAT ARBITRAIRE STARE FROM GLARE,
CAN BE X, Y, OR Z, I DO NOT CARE,
PEARLS, GIRLS, AND SMOKING CURLS,
MY DESTINY WAS TO DIE, AND WHY?
THE ARBITIRAIRE BEAUTY OF PEARLS,
I will miss her seaside,
I hope, the crowd cheers my death,
and the guillotine shines,
and blinds me back for good,
to the darkness of my mind.

Keith J Collard Jul 2014

American Peace ( Pax Americana)

Did the Pax Americana
come and go?
Is her statue, made of ice and snow,
Do I see her in the fire and now I don't,
Pax Americana, I hear her, as I go deaf,
I feel you
As red decorates slowly through my vest.

I am with you, in a tiny-- but vast land--
yet still on my back,
Watching sweat pick up crystal sand,
Your dune has no debris that I see
mid this blackened road--shining so beautifully,

My Lady of Pax, my lady of last laughs
that came from the briefing,
My lady of things one would want to last
Yet you stay now that I am bleeding.

Lady Peace, just like a goodnight kiss--
in respite, you exist,
This war all I've seen is their pretty olive eyes
and you are their lips,
You are here now as eternal momentary bliss.

Keith J Collard Apr 2014

Blue Hills

Blue hills "which way?,"
Path pines, form sunset gate.
Blue hills " I love you babe"
Titan pines without sway,
Light from sky trapped in titan height,
The height of light fights the sunset gate,
Blue horizon " I love you babe."

Keith J Collard Apr 2014

Etruscan Love

Go my husband, show the Romans how to die.

Poison will slip thru my lips,
As the gladeus slips your spine.

Go my love, give the Romans something to write,
Inhale the smoke, from the sacred Athenian grove,
The invaders burn where we were vowed man and wife.

Go my husband, show their might ~love is Etruscan,
That once ruled their tribe,
Look, the Roman General already wants a Greek wife.
And wants to spare your life,

Go,
Our love will make their spears sigh,
After defeat,
They run into their own swords, held by their trusted centurion chest high.
After defeat,
We run into each others arms,
For the last kiss on this side,
The enemy can know,
We gaze forever into each-other with death's unblinking eyes,
Go my love, show them what we value in life,
Preparing for the last tragic nuptial,
To find each other through the dark death night.

Keith J Collard Mar 2014

Chiton Centipede ('chiton pronounced: Chie-tawn)

Voracity is the centipede,
hunting in a-downhill-bleed,
pull what you think is a string,
to pitch your tent,
feel the centi clench,
and incision of dopamine,
your esophagus that screams,
could have had the segments and seams,
harking back to when the earth was steam,
when night jungle shines upon it,
with a red lens,
as it devours a tarantula,
adding a segment to its length,
sense the kinship,
sense the progenitor strength,
turn your red light on,
see the red esophagus of black chiton,
run for the zenith,
before the apex makes you bleedeth,
let your bayonet it bite on,
drop in alchohol,
and as a dragon,
it will soar and fight on,

beware the apex,
only the mountain,
set your sights on,
beware the early esophagus,
of red-neon, black chiton.