You may find this hard to believe
But I just saw a monkey
Drive by me doing eighty
In a Maserati

Eating rainbow ice cream
In a cone from Dairy Queen
I don't mean to sound mean
But should a monkey be eating ice cream

Just then I saw a cat
Right before he went splat
Jaywalking will often do that
And that my friend is straight up fact

The monkey swerved to avoid him
That's when he lost control and
Into a brick wall he slammed
As the ice cream went a flying

Since a cat has nine lives
He came to quite surprised
As Keith Richards does most nights
The ice cream landed just right

The monkey's now in heaven
The cat is ice cream licking
The Maserati is a has been
So I guess this must be the end

this is the line
in the joke you can't remember

the tick tock of time
counting off the days that your here

the mercury dime
tossed in the wishing well

the measured worth of life
these days it's hard to tell

this is the height
that is taken from the depth

least we forget the bite
that holds the hand of death

the slice of the kitchen knife
that's used to cut the cord

what it is you thought you might
but you know you can't afford

this is the sign
that won't be around much longer

where you come back around to the line
in the joke you can't remember

As fast as the poems pour in
He pours them right back out again
Spilling their contents all over the page
It's either madness or wisdom that controls this Sage

While some may spill out on the floor
It's carefully swept into piles later for
When this young poets heart starts to bleed
He's never quite sure what rhymes he will need

So as fast as the poems pour in
He takes what they say and pours them back out again
In the spilling of contents all over the page
This time knowing though it's madness that controls the pen of this Sage

Standing on a busy street corner
When a limo pulls up next to me
Out pops the head of Johnny Depp
(Not the body mind you, just the head)
And asks where's the nearest Dairy Queen

Not one to miss an opportunity
I blurted out I'll show you the way
So that's how the head of "The Depp" and I
Spent time together that day

In his limo he had his makeup artist
Which seemed a bit odd to me
Everywhere the head of Johnny went
It had to dress up for the scene

Since Johnny was drooling a Dilly
First stop Dairy Queen
With Johnny's head as the Mad Hatter under my arm
It was a very strange scene indeed

With me holding onto the Dilly's
And Johnny's head on the counter up front
Mr. Depp was the King at the Queen that day
Though his ice cream licking habit did turn some peoples lunch

Later on passing a Piggly Wiggly
Johnny's head said what's up with that
Told him it's nothing more than a grocery store
His reply was let's give it a crack

So undergoing more of his makeup
And in the blink of an eye
I have the head of Jack Sparrow
In the grocery cart with a bag of Funions by his side

Yes, Johnny Depp's head loves Funions
Which to me really ranks the breath
But who am I to tell a Big Time Movie Star that
I'm not the keeper of his head

He even dressed as Edward Scissorhands
Which didn't turn out quite right
Since Johnny's head has no hands
To hold the famous Scissorhand knives

That day we went to so many places
With every stop a new disguise
I guess for entertainment you do what you can
When all that's left is your head and some of your mind

Whelp, that's about it on this days adventures
Not a whole lot more to be said
As I stood on the street corner waving bye, bye
To the limo pulling off into the sunset, along with the head of Johnny Depp

Ain't no reason
or particular season
to the rhyme...
but my head is heavy-
and my heart is rotten
to the core.

There's holes in my pages
where there once were words-
the book worms got 'em
and left me empty...

I asked ***** Joe for a light,
but his flint wore out
on the road into Fallujah.
Now he's rotten to the corps-
he can't hear us anymore...
a secret, silent sentry.

r ~ 8/22/14

This was a fishing village
when people were speaking
the king's English, dead
like the fishing industry
Now the tourists have accents

Truth be told
this was a fishing village
long before that
But we don't speak about
what those folks spoke
Something Algonquian
or another dead language

When the tide is out
I walk the shore and look for remnants
Pottery and stone tools, and such
I find a lot of plastic
and bottles, plenty of those
We've been a drinking people
for a long **** time

Once, I found a child's shoe,
sodden and filled with sand
It had a blue lace,
still tied, and a smiley face
as the tide was going out
Kind of sad, really.

r  ~ 8/28/14

She sews..her needle hot
Stitching her words
Into my thoughts

Repairing a tear
Here and there

A knot drawn tight
Nimble and quick
Thimble silver
Her verse sharp

A rip in the heart
Stitched in time
To stop the flow

My lips sealed
with silken gold
Threading gently
Into the night.

r ~ 8/21/14