it's all in the gnomes on your lawn
that draws me baby
not your curves
not those curls on your naked shoulder
or your poems
not the way you slide up to me
like some kind of fine woman
just those gnomes
I like your gnomes
baby

compost
   organic
ammonium
   aeration
conditioned
   fertilizer
I am
   or one-
day
   will be
anaerobic
   digested
unfit for
    human
consumption
    bio-gas
****
    alternative
I.....

I bring hotdogs and turnips to it
gladly sit in the unpopular rows
with people who know their **** stinks,
not those who feel a need to condescend
degrade and comment on others here
I would gladly bring 'tato chips
and nachos and pass on the high brow
caviar some think they are
for you smell
when you judge others
like you are the beginning end and class of the show
when you are just
pretty versions of *******
in better clothes
with store bought words and
stupid wits.

A long long time ago
I can still remember how
That music used to make me smile
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And maybe they'd be happy for a while

But February made me shiver
With every paper I'd deliver
Bad news on the doorstep
I couldn't take one more step

I can't remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride
Something touched me deep inside
The day the music died
So

Bye, bye Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
And them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singin' this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die

Did you write the book of love
And do you have faith in God above
If the Bible tells you so?
Do you believe in rock and roll?
Can music save your mortal soul?
And can you teach me how to dance real slow?

Well, I know that you're in love with him
'Cause I saw you dancin' in the gym
You both kicked off your shoes
Man, I dig those rhythm and blues

I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck
With a pink carnation and a pickup truck
But I knew I was out of luck
The day the music died
I started singin'

Bye, bye Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
And them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singin' this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die

Now, for ten years we've been on our own
And moss grows fat on a rolling stone
But, that's not how it used to be

When the jester sang for the king and queen
In a coat he borrowed from James Dean
And a voice that came from you and me

Oh and while the king was looking down
The jester stole his thorny crown
The courtroom was adjourned
No verdict was returned

And while Lennon read a book on Marx
The quartet practiced in the park
And we sang dirges in the dark
The day the music died
We were singin'

Bye, bye Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye
And singin' this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die

Helter skelter in a summer swelter
The birds flew off with a fallout shelter
Eight miles high and falling fast

It landed foul on the grass
The players tried for a forward pass
With the jester on the sidelines in a cast

Now the half-time air was sweet perfume
While sergeants played a marching tune
We all got up to dance
Oh, but we never got the chance

'Cause the players tried to take the field
The marching band refused to yield
Do you recall what was revealed
The day the music died?
We started singin'

Bye, bye Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye
And singin' this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die

Oh, and there we were all in one place
A generation lost in space
With no time left to start again

So come on Jack be nimble, Jack be quick
Jack Flash sat on a candlestick
'Cause fire is the devil's only friend

Oh and as I watched him on the stage
My hands were clenched in fists of rage
No angel born in Hell
Could break that Satan's spell

And as the flames climbed high into the night
To light the sacrificial rite
I saw Satan laughing with delight
The day the music died
He was singin'

Bye, bye Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singin' this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die

I met a girl who sang the blues
And I asked her for some happy news
But she just smiled and turned away

I went down to the sacred store
Where I'd heard the music years before
But the man there said the music wouldn't play

And in the streets the children screamed
The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed
But not a word was spoken
The church bells all were broken

And the three men I admire most
The Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the music died
And they were singing

Bye, bye Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
And them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singin' this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die

They were singing
Bye, bye Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singin' this'll be the day that I die

Written by Don Mclean • Copyright © Universal Music Publishing Group, Songtrust Ave

I am trying to make the book see my name in print in the next edition
for the most reads of a poem on Hp with no hearts, shares , or collection reposts , sans comments, just ignored so well it breaks the records, if
Guinness has such a thing. Or possibly the most poems wroten bad
and worst punctuations, mark, my, word!

with YouTube
     enough? Olde English 800
an Intel dual core processor
      a blunt a *****
8 Gb of ram begins
          a memory
160 dollars in a SSD
      I get an STD
but heard through two tiny speakers
       a paid woman's words
and memories of yesterday.

a picture is a thousand words
while poetry is a million translations
of feelings said by one
to all

noble as noble as the fine gold gilded on any cross
as noble as words sent into time immemoriable
finely threaded as any silk, cobbled as leather
time worn strong as strong as any spider weaves
as strong as any shoe as any cobbler would
as any woven dress, as the most finer caress
as strong as the rumored kiss that virgins sent
red cheeked to any amorous brave warrior
fighting for her honor her tenderness;
as fine the robes as shiny the armor,
as gloried as any woven story,
as any vigil spent with years claiming glory
of vigilence, I spoke , I sent an arrow
across the bow of diligence, of romance
only, only to the center of your , your heart,
my deepest love, if but my aim were it true might find
ten seconds in your smile
and destiny in your glimpse
and glory in your touch!

tense as the rolled up newspaper thrown
slapping against the step
at dawn
awakening conspiratorial
slinking around the truth
sleuthing sniffing
my way to find
out this way or that but the way
about the signs the clues
preachers words the same weight
as the street corner girls
a way to think
in our detectiving
then the ultimate
DNA almost
the penultimate
remains of the doer dids
the who what did
whats the ne'er do wells on
Mulberry street , I know them hoods
no they were not the culprits
I scent along above below
sniff and snoof
behoove behind the wildest dogs
to find it was
mine own trail I had found
among the shivering forest green
I sat considered
a shylock set this up
then saw the bacon on my foot
I had been following.
I set off again my foot clean.
I will find this bandit.
I like bacon , though.

Is schismatic schematic prophetic problematic differences
a future world
to be unscholarly resolved with arms?
Heresy, is an accusation that requires hanging,
not just participles, but participants,
let us tear apart the baby,
give me half and you, can scrape the pavements.
I see , no communion, no Democracy, no theologian
or Cleric, no Christ, no Buddha,  or Mohammed,
coming to our rescue.
No one says, this is craziness, totally religious
schismatic
I may be. But,
give me an alternative.
I cry, today.

A lone brave can never rest
  in the remains of his motherland,
hearing forefathers, their last words the legacy as they died
  forced to walk many a mile.

He Hears, from every wind
  and sees all the trees as his
destiny, even when drained of red blood
   stains, He stands in the majestic remains...

of wisdom from his past
   whispering to him to never forget
that harmony produces courage,
   heritage, comes from within.

Every grass, mineral, rock
  is rediscovered
as Spirits call to him
  from the past.

What a fool I was , undignified
to light one up at the funeral,
the mourners gasped, as I blew you that
one last shotgun , as I promised you
I would that day we met in April
1967 at the love-in
on the hill the new rock bands playing
songs of peace and love so beautiful
the flowers and  kisses being gave
out so freely and we got so high
promised if you died I'd give you one
last shotgun to take you smiling out
to wherever it is ole' hippies
go

almond fronds for  visions
spidered eyes black a wink kisses
the cheeks   a sunrise nose spry
lips of tangerine peels left after eating  the heart
calmest flowing rivers shoulders of
the places bream nip
for joy under a water slip
she is jungled
shy as the panther in the shadows
sleuthing blending in and standing out
when your eyes do meet a sudden
reality
by god she is  beauty
the forest the green lush
thickets impenetrable dark illusive
illusory a dream a destroyer saviour a wild thing
a nerve fiber a coiled up  bindle  
of masks and hard sharpnesses and soft fur
purr

There it is
a peace of the future sky
in my eye
fuzzy floating, now unresolved;
a blue and white someday
on hills and trees
I squint into.
When I am seeing this blurriness,
I see red and yellows,
blacks and whites,
all melding into one grayness.

Oh , my imagery, I see beautifully.
hazy , but, one day....
I will visit the optometrist...
right after my
psychiatrist.

My Radius
   Mine distance
'tween the center of mine
      and my edges
('cause I am not exactly
           spherical, Varies, I guess)
The differences divided
          by a varying circumference
diameters changing
      makes it SO hard to divide the pi
squaring it  

(or trying to multiply by zero)

Makes absolutely
zero sense
            poses more questions than geometry
or algebra,
(far as I know, might be a constant, somewheres)
the I = me?

trigonometrical nonsense?

and next year there will be none of either kind,
no blue moons,
nor any poems
written about it except for
those written  missing it,
no country poet , besides,
will pay the fact any attention,
including me.

crazy means hell or not
I see rain as falling rainbows
and clouds as eyebrows
and black and white as
mixtures
of grey of peach pie and mustard greens and
oysters and pork rinds
to be eaten devoured
tasted a palette I suppose
of obstacles seen as challenges
as hills as things to  climb
as  dark as sight is in the night
with dawn on the horizon.
All suns are bright all pies sweet
all taste is keenly inspired,
I write to expand the palette
demand that all taste
the differences.

best if i say right off this is gonna be *****
so if you believe in god or are under 30
or can't ride the rides in Disneyland
disembark
****, I forgot what
I had  in me dream,
****!!!!!!!!!!!
I stomp and jump up again and say **** It!!!!
Fucken all this crap!
I am so tired of chasing visions, so tired of  lying women
so tired of every buzz.
God ******* ****!!! **** me!
**** with a capital F I forgot to add the emphasis.
So full of ****** rhymes so full of bad times.
I just need to calm down, okay.
i am ok.
So, where was I, geez, a full load wheelbarrow falling **** into my lap.
I make it day to night, and sleep alone again. What have I to look forward to tomorrow. A hard day labor and a lonely night.
A fist full of dollars I **** away might as well just  take a crap on this whole world wipe my *** with a hundred dollar bill, then roll it up
and snoot a big *** of candy again up my nose.
I know you are tired of my whining. Look, I got a Major, a doctorate even,
in wallowing. I will never be okay  as long as I camoflauge my feelings. So, i am spilling them all out now, puking my guts up on your eyes in lil a big Z

see air
    smell love,
feel alive,
        breathe skin
breathe a breath now,
while ....
if ever were
    the time,
wind stood,
            awaiting
wings
        display
now, why staying
for eternity.

Poem of prosy
I am so sorry
to relay this story
of ending glory
knowing
your suspenseful stories
await my attentions.
Your suspenseful showy
purposefulness I feel,
I do!
I read and write and breathe
and cry!
Just as you.
I slay dragons daily,
carry princesses away,
I live in castles
like you!
I walk every word wearily,
or crawl away , but always go forward.

more toes in the river bank
more jaunting through the clover field
more watching the sunrise
more catching your eyes in mine

moresmilesmore laughsmorecakes
icecream
more popcorn spilling when crying
at sad movies

less work less hate
less white on walls I want
colorlesscubicleinsanity

less cell phone *******
the notifications the calls
Less taxicabsskyscrapers
concretemortuaries

more flowers
more handshakes
more hugs more sweetness
more of feeling

less of reality
Tv
moreoldmovies

more tears

If fed a load of ****
you will drop
an interesting array
of vitamins, proteins, and
minerals, rearranged into
a load of ****.
Or create smelly ripples. wherever
you sit.

I feel it arising
that deep down inside feel
my eyes clear
the pages  open
the words flow
arrange theirselves
in certain
configurations
and the paper
takes it all
like a lover you
met
long ago

imposed by DNA
by nature striving to
reproduce full frontal ******
scenes with wolves
killing baby deer

harmony with brutal
forces driving tsunami
waves in shores onto bathers unprepared
schemes of hawks  
killing doves

distrust the self
for the next breath
if snatched away cannot be recovered
look wise sideways
out of the corner
of eyes

always, procreate into
believing its all meaning
something, DNA winds into
helical coils as do typhoons,
as does the cynical
idealism

alight a path of excited neurons
saved by corporeal fuses
sacrificed fried to save
my head from overloads all the
amperage storing up
Danger High Voltage!!!

flows inside from too much reality.

I need your alternating current
to mediate my DC.
To my Tesla, like, you are , Miss Whitman.
To your Edison I am but one spark of Voltaire.

You sing of electric bodies ten million volts.
I imitate Voltaire as he did Virgil.
If someday we should unite,
our sparks would alight on eternity.

oh my baby
expectant seeds of memory
and truth do surge in unanticipated but ******
flows

surge and bring thee closer;
no, into my realm; devolve mysteries
resolve the unsolved, evoke and revoke my stain, my misery

be my home: forlorn as i am I stand proud
as your knight
and you my Queen.

I've this bad memory balloon
i blow into when distressed
it's now the size of the earth
and I expect
ten years from now
it will be still there just the
size of Uranus or maybe
Jupiter would have been
a better analogy?

I am not period(.)
nor apostrophe(')
I am important
dashed immortality(......)
my ashes will remain and feed
someone(,)
if only a slug sloothing in comma days(,,,,,)
on the side of a freeway overgrown
with wildflowers and **** around
an exclamation mark(!!!!)
a mark of quotation(")
I decay and feed
the next generations
semicolon(;) seed;
If I have any say (period.)

Wouldn't it be crazy wonderful
To see in person some of
The most noted Wordsworth's
And personalities that
Hello Poetry has to offer?
August 15th would be good
Here in Clayhatchee Bamalama
In the south with nothing else to offer but the woods and cornstalks the peanut dust air.
It would be a festival. A face to face to finally meet the poets I admire and describe in my head by their words and their profile.
I'm about to start a gofundme page to make the wildest dreams come true. Imagine Eliot greeting you in person.
Its gonna be tie-dye only and sandals dress. (Weeds illegal here and the price high as hell, so bring your own)
Load up the vw van with all your poet friends.
Entrance fees waved to those
Bringing their own soap and toiletries. Oh, and beer....or ***....whisky....tequila.... Etc.

lips all pouty trembling
my chin dimpled again
tears in my eyes listening
to your playlist
when I should be trying
to make the miles disappear
walking your way
if nothing else
instead of just singing along
to love songs on a
soggy Sunday afternoon
tears in my eyes
memories on my breast
wishing you were here
feeling your breath
smelling your perfume
lingering in
the past.

Starry, starry night
Paint your palette blue and gray
Look out on a summer's day
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul

Shadows on the hills
Sketch the trees and the daffodils
Catch the breeze and the winter chills
In colors on the snowy linen land

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free

They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now

Starry, starry night
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze
Swirling clouds in violet haze
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue

Colors changing hue
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free

They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now

For they could not love you
But still your love was true
And when no hope was left in sight
On that starry, starry night

You took your life, as lovers often do
But I could've told you Vincent
This world was never meant for
One as beautiful as you

Starry, starry night
Portraits hung in empty halls
Frame-less heads on nameless walls
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget

Like the strangers that you've met
The ragged men in ragged clothes
The silver thorn of ****** rose
Lie crushed and broken on the ****** snow

Now I think I know
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free

They would not listen, they're not listening still
Perhaps they never will

Written by Don Mclean • Copyright © Universal Music Publishing Group

"drain the swamp"!!  

Paul Manafort
Michael Cohen
Michael Flynn
George Papadopoulos
Richard Gates

And other Republicans--
( Rep. Duncan Hunter and
Rep. Chris Collins ) -note :  The first two lawmakers to endorse Trump for president

convicted and/or
indicted since he began
his spring cleaning!!

YAY!!!   Trump!

I am wanting to thank some very incredible people.
I also am hoping others will , also.
With that in mind I would like to list
ten poets here I feel people need to read.
My list consists of poets who are always active and generous ,
have good humor and sense.
I would like others to add their ten to my list.
And hopefully everyone eventually gets a shout out.
In the comments list ten poets you admire and would like to see
others appreciate. I will add  them to this list.
If you would like to list more feel free , the more the merrier, and the more
poets get a shout out and their name shared. I will add as many as you can type!
After all , this is goodwill and spirit and sharing and I feel good .


Vicki
Mark Cleavenger
Terry Collett
Ja
Sally Bayan
Emily Burns
Jules Winerose
Lady RF
Sukanya Sinha Roy
Valsa George
(Bill Hughes contributed the following)
Mary Winslow
Randolph L. Wilson
Elizabeth J
Bex
Ezra Warhol
my dearest reno
Wordvango
Jeff Stier
taia iverson
Dave Hewitt
Kristy Renae Dalton
(added by Eric W)
SPT
Doug Potter
Lola Park
SoulSurvivor
Inevitably Raised By Ducks
(added by Vicki)
Shawna Michele
Spygrandson
r
Woody
Pradip Chattopadhyay
SJR 1000
the seatbelt effect
Sonja Benskin Mesher
Don't Call Me Johnny
nivek
WL Winter
K Mae
Liz Balize
patty m
Pamela Rae
Sean Tierney
William Poppen
Michael Kagan
Biche
Irinia
Mikeccc
Paul Gaffney
Karina Norris Viers
Dawn
Brother Jimmy
Anthony
Phil Roberts
David Ehrgott
Jason Clarke
Angstrom
Jamadhi Verse
born
Weeping Willow
Terry Jordan
Traveler
Tonya Maria
CA Guilfoyle
elizabeth j
Grumpy Thumb
David Patrick O'C
f
(added by Sukanya Sinha Roy)
Eli N
Poetryjournal
Traveller
The Dead Sea
Zero
Nishu Mathur
James Michael Hail
Nagi
Angstorm
(Added by Sjr 1000)
Wardha
nagi
PoetryJournal
My Dystopia
Life's Jump
Bala
Nat Lipstad
Melissa
Ded Poet
Denel
Bex
Luiz Machado
(added by Jamadhi Verse)
Lora Lee
Wild is the Wind
Lalin
Akira Chen
R k
Onoma
Mydystopia
Stephanie
Stephan
Pradip :)
Karishna
(added by elizabeth j)
NB.
Lonely Soldier
Lily Mae
Thomas P Owens Sr
Sir WCA
Midnight Rain
Melissa S.
( added by Lori Jones McCaffery?
James
Kim Johanna Baker
Demonatachick
Elizabeth J
Yasaman Johari
Jean Lin
Lawrence Hall
Landon Miller
Chris Neilson
Pagan Paul
Sun Princess
Elizabeth Squires
Keith Wilson

I wear a layer of
protection
'tween reality and
fantasy
like a prophylactic
fence against STD's.
Sometimes
out of need I stick things out
from the need to breathe,
free
from Societal Transmitted Disease.
******* a need
and to stop my ***** from going to seed
I wear a body ******.
sometimes it is hard to breathe.
But, I wrap it up!

such a treasure, and a chore! I have bought the local store
out of bleach, vinegar, baking soda, ***** and kibble.
A bother, yes, when I try
to walk to the bathroom or refrigerator
without being tripped up, and I shuffle along now,
I don't dare to lift my feet for fear of hearing a wounded
yelp. And bad breath, I thought the drunk begging a dollar for a small bottle who lives under the bridge when he asked, "spare a dollar, mister?", and my
eyebrows sizzled , had bad breath. These treasures breath smells like they eat and drink from a septic tank.
Let one whimper or get on their back legs begging me to pick his or her little sticky *** up, and I put it on my chest and watch her , or him, get all cozy listening to my heart beat, and it seems worth it.

beauty indeed,
a fair maiden proudly giving me her bounty
a mountain far off upon a golden horizon
the breath of earth misty upon the calm sea
a calm word from a strong man to a hurt child
a stranger helping an old woman across the street
homeless vagabonds hugging and sharing one piece
of bread in the snow
a four legged friend faithfully guarding
his human child awaiting the bus
two birds feeding worms to their young
and a lion nurse an orphan gazelle, god yes,
I have seen beauty indeed. And heard her name in nature's churches,
in temples of the streets, in heavens on earth.

A willow green
wept at the ravine
doorstep as Cardinals
flew free
into the green apple tree
that grew
next to my favorite mulberry bush
My companion, Abby,
chasing a possum
as I grew on green apples and mulberry seeds
darkness growing her tossing throwing the dead
acting possum
at the valley's doorstep
left me a
mystery.

kisses    ok
right 'tween your lips
yes
I love you kitten
you are welcome
is someone close?
curl to me
in your dreams
BIG KISS
for that
I am home
miss you, ru here baby?
sleep well!

In 1984, I assimilated this southern drawl and slow sly wit.
Whilst i felt so foreign, at first, and had to sit in the woods alone
and meditate, I met this one gopher tortoise one day. He slowly startled me when he stuck his long neck out and offered me a bite of a gopher apple.
It tasted like the bubble gum I used to get with Detroit Tiger baseball cards in. We slowly became best friends. I met his convex mate and others with his first name he generously shared his burrow with.
His home was home to crickets frogs and snakes, he asked me to join them.

I was too big, of head or ego, I really don't know, why I did not join him.
I still wander the woods where frequent fires have burned, and find on sand hills, among the creamy white flowers  
and ***** stems,
the gopher apples. And plant them in memory of my friend, so slow and wise.
I see him time to time,
but find him rare and rarer.

If there were a potion
to turn ordinary
into wonderful
I have not yet found.

If there were a medication
to take my dictations
and turn them into
Shakespeare.

If I could find some herb to season
my verbs, my nouns,
to make my sober words
renowned.

If there ever were
I would call my pusher,
wait at the curb quill and pad
awaiting
his pulling up.

my last dollar
i give him.

A nocturnal *******, I have found out
is testament to a brain strain
not a main vein malfunction.
Not a lack of virility, vitality is ingrained.
I found   out watching  late
night TV, potency    for
potency,    they said    ,scientifically
is not a wee thing, but
can be bought and will last for days
if you buy this Androzine.

you me and
blue
transitions
and far off horizons painted with wishes
one day....
we always say

tracing palms with fingers
soothsaying or prophesizing
cards played
wide-eyed amazed
grazing at life's tender
shoots

when as always it all
is so much simpler
than the mortal life
absolves on
a daily day all
tormented coiled inside
are ten million squirms
for every cry

never one answer

but one eternal theme
that rose blossoms true
and the vernal winds cool
once came a blue
on a storm's distal
view

and for every glint
of the sun comes a
distant hologram on the eye
a corresponding elegant
glow that lasts

into your visage a sign
that not all life and reality is
destined at once
to be recognized
just take things at face value a wary grace
faith if you will

and see
the sky
blue

that's all  my wisdom

becoming a poet since I read more
than I write
becoming a human
since I feel more
of others
becoming a man I stand tall in peace
becoming another
I hope for

To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear the unbearable sorrow
To run where the brave dare not go

To right the unwritable wrong
To be better far than you are
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star

This is my quest, to follow that star
No matter how hopeless,
No matter how far
To fight for the right
Without question or pause
To be willing to march into hell
For a heavenly cause

And I know if I'll only be true
To this glorious quest
That my heart will be peaceful and calm
When I'm laid to my rest

And the world would be better for this
That one man scorned and covered with scars
Still strove with his last ounce of courage
To reach the unreachable star



Writer(s): Mitch Leigh, Joe Darion
Copyright: Helena Music Company, Andrew Scott Music

Aphrodite's recipe for idyllic relations
contains:
cranberries and blackberries
Chia Goji
one whole Vanilla bean
three quarters cup of Macadamias
of course, coconut milk
maple syrup and oats
pumpkin seeds
nutmeg
that's why I
cant make it.

Once Upon I, the warrior skeletal
the eternal darkness
descended
with cracked laughter echoing
serendipity exploding
and unfolding  erase(s)
the expanse of nightfall,
those connected before
redemption,
rustic austerity
peace
for she
dreaming forlorn
liberated
by the sword
sine qua non

pure pleasure prairies me
amongst pastures and me filly Polly
posies  pretty poignant paradigm
of Palominos rhyme and rhythms
play me pictures posting and posing for
me pretty filly Polly
prancing let me see her
lil' sassyfrass haunched up back
please
lay me pleasantly out on pink pastures
my days a paradise visage

a Petunia pasted poster all portraiting
perfect pure pasture and
me pretty filly,
Polly.

it's time
time to load my most personal  things
taking only the most important

escape this apocalypse
you'll see me on the side
of the road
my cardboard box full of notepads

a lifetime of heart things
feelings tear stained yellow
page after page
pulling a Radio Flyer

on I-10
three  cats and an old faithful
black labrador dame
and one box

Many compositions for all men,
once were found  near granite stones.
Many songs
were tied to Rose Hill Cemetery.

Then, travels on a Wind Bag, ended
on the Farm, and became famous.
Wrote Ramblin' and got higher then ever seen for
Southern men who encompassed black and white,
so, did never exemplify the South,but two returned,
because of motorbikes,
and now lie side by side:
recomposing,
at Rose Hill Cemetery.

full grown light magnesium burns on the corner bright
now
now that false dude with the habit
has been removed from the bushes where he shagged
and scared little girls
and the punk drug dealer stood
near the bushes in the dark was
removed by what light
that burns like welder's torches
belches the sun at dark onto sly daredevils those
**** buckets
and the users go around to another place now
the young girls play basketball there
safe into the dark hours
and the brightest light saved
another generation
and it only took two deaths
there
to make it happen