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He loved her body
A little too much
Hard and then soft
And then hard to the touch

She didn’t know she’d
Take rest by his side
Carl Tanzler’s young lovely bride

Tuberculosis took her too soon
But his infatuation still made him swoon

A paper tube which allowed him to still
Tearfully know her, tearfully thrill

Was replaced as needed
As things seeped inside
Carl Tanzler’s lovely young bride

And God in his heaven
Looked down as he cried
For Carl Tanzler’s lovely young bride

And the devils vast minions
Smiled up from Hell
At Carl’s bride’s unmoving shell
Brother Jimmy Aug 27
Avoiding magic,
Elf, and bowl...
Nothing’s tragic
If made whole

Avoidance carries
Heavy loads
The miracle tarries,
Mind implodes

But winged creatures
Want dire things
Say earnest preachers
Who pull off wings

Perhaps the church
Should be avoided
And left in a lurch
As Christ destroyed it

When he read
From the scroll
Turns of head
All eyes did roll

The spirit is upon me
I’ve been anointed
To set captives free
I’ve been appointed


And as he put the scroll away
He uttered aloud, almost in song:
“These words are fulfilled in me today”,
Infuriating the offended throng

Leaving chins
Upon the floor
Churchy grins
Appear no more

They move as one
To chase him off;
To Him, what fun,
The shout and scoff

He looked not proud
On the brow of the hill
Passed through crowd
All felt a chill

For this, perhaps
Is how He loved
The cards collapsed
And all were moved
.



A repost of an earlier work
Brother Jimmy May 21
My sweet lady, I’m off kilter,
Wooed by all your lovely charms,
Here’s some maca for your philter,
Need to have you in my arms

Want your loving legs around me,
Want your loving arms as well,
Have to say your curves astound me,
Got to make your sailor swell,

Want to voyage through your straits,
Lovely portal made of jade,
Let my tongue throw wide the gates,
And let the choicest love be made

Let me sing you lovely music,
Let me try to make you swoon,
Here’s my flesh (O please abuse it!),
While my eyes reflect the moon

Lover laughing lovely there,
Behind your smiling eyes so deep,
In my mental pictures fair,
Close my eyes to try to keep,

Each new moment we’re entwined,
For each one seems to top the last,
Hold me close and expand my mind,
Draw me near, and hold me fast
Repost of an earlier poem
Brother Jimmy May 21
My bones are sore
At close of day
With pain in feet
And hair more grey

And now begins the
Springtime slurry
Winter's death,
The sprouting fury...

But it's the autumn
Of my days
And joints now throb
And mind's a haze

Yet Spring awakens
Yearnings which
Have long lain dormant
How the itch

Distracts a stiff
From daily dribblings
Daydreams, donned
With nubile nibblings

And out into
The wood I jaunt
Till pagan ponderings
Hellishly haunt

The corners of
My craggly crown
The parietal plunder
Pulling down

But satyr romps
Among tree bases
With myriad pictures
Of countless faces

Create a stiffness
'Mid sickened stones
Not of ***** but
Of the bones

At close of day
A man lay hoping
For another day's
Eyes to open

O new day come
It's not too late
Inner wellspring
Satiate!
A repost of one of my earlier pieces
Brother Jimmy Apr 29
I repeat the things that do me harm
Day in ...day out
Even though they've lost their charm
Day out day in

I'm fearful how this thing will end
Day in ...day out
So tell me pretty lies, my friend
Day out day in

Though my symptoms show it's true
Day in ...day out
Gasping, coughing bits of spew
Day out day in

Repeated detrimental sin
Day in ...day out
Like a rat to saccharine
Day out day in
I know that it is sad...and dumb,
But I can’t stop until I’m numb
Brother Jimmy Apr 12
Atavistic gills have I
For breathing in the void
For swimming up through space & sky
My organs thus employed

For since, in this world's atmosphere,
I have never drowned
My dormant skill has reappeared
And my soul, it soars unbound
Brother Jimmy Apr 10
In a hovel
In the middle
Of the dark moor

Lives our favored
Anti-hero
From our folklore

He is waiting
For electric
Thoughts to surface

If you're wond'ring
Is he wand'ring
Yes, he sure is

But he nightly
Comes to sleep here
In his old shack

Where he'll always
Feel that he can
Find his way back

'Dines on squirrel,
Hand-picked field greens
...and an orange

Never mending
That old roof leak
Nor that door hinge...

'Talks of hellfire
And of brimstone
Oh what is it

'Sends a person
To their limits
When they visit?

Maybe it's his
Dissertation
On "what's out there"

Or his casting-
Out the demons
From his armchair

Or perhaps his
Concrete notions
Of what truth is

And his staunch wit
Which at times can
Be just ruthless

Yet he's kind and
Truly loving
When I visit

Kindly, warmly,
Locking my gaze...
Oh what is it

Makes a person
Want to stay far
From the bustle

Separating
From the life mass
And the hustle

Singing songs to
Phantom longings
And the west wind

And then only
Posthumously
Will his song end

And it's true that
Dissonant, he
Finds his thoughts are

Bestow blessings
On his blind eyes
And his guitar
A repost of one of my earlier poems
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