Jenkins always did whatever the **** he wanted to do.
He always went about his business
like it was his only purpose on Earth.
He never got bogged down
in gossip or idle talk,
made just to pass the time.
He didn't give a rat's ***
about who was doing what to whom
& vice versa.
Once I saw him spit a ******
on the floor
of a high dollar restaurant.
He blurted out, "Free Oyster!"
& laughed his *** off, what a dork.
Everybody looked shocked,
one patron dropped a fork,
another snickered.
Strange days indeed,
but nobody there asked him to leave,
they seemed pleased to take his money
instead & clean up the nasty mess.

From the back
of a quiet
bookshelf
inside a dusty
***
she heard
her husbands breathing
rattle and
stop,
she heard
the bedside sorrow
in a tender kiss
farewell
then stirred her ash
with menace
and welcomed him
to hell

Growing up I always had
Some very special friends
Where we shared in everything
Even our love for Heavy Death Metal Bands

But every time one of us
Pick up an instrument
Whether banging, blowing, or strumming
We never made a lick of sense

That is until we found the jewel
That we all could play
Which turned around our tender lives
And tenderized us all that day

Now we travel the country side
With our own road crew
In a Heavy Death Metal Band
Where we all play Kazoo's

The very first Kazoo's we purchased
Came from the Five & Dime
But were able to throw down for the better stuff
Once our careers all started to climb

Now when we step out into the lights
Taking center stage
It's worth the pain in our vibrating lips
To see adoration on a groupies face

And playing lead Kazoo
Isn't as easy as it looks
You've got to hold your lips just right
To come up with those major hooks

We used to open up for other Metal Bands
Like AC/DC and Metallica
Pretty soon though our style passed them by
Leaving those sissies in top 40 dust

Because next to us they played soft rock
And when your "Axe" is a killer Kazoo
The others stand around dumb founded
With no clue of what to do

Don't get me wrong this rock and roll road
Isn't always paved in gold
Day in and day out in a Kazoo Death Metal Band
Can take away your very soul...

I was hanged once. Seriously. Hanged.
If you can believe it.
Stupidly and innocently the rope was
Slipped over my head.
The waggon was pushed out,
Suspending me twisting slowly turning
With untied hands. Can you see me?
I was as good as gone.
You'll have to believe me.
Take my word.
You can't look it up.
Seriously.
You can't find any account.
Nobody reported it.
All the same.
I was hanged.
Left like Eastwood.

But, then we were opaque.
Not like now,
With clicking phones.
There aren't enough incarnate spirits
To be snatched away by the number of photos.
Everything is snapped.
Everyone should shudder.
If you think with a click you're good to go,
You're good as gone.
As reported.

For some time
they were very happy
at his return

his wife daughters sons
all the beloved ones
as he himself was.

Only for some time.

It made him think of
forever eternal infinite
and more
he attributed to love

all that he yearned for
now remaining no more a dream
but right there before him
to embrace
and continue living in happiness.

But now
after the some time

why they appear to him stale
this replica of a life
he had lived so well

the thought of leaving which
the fear to die
had made him cry!

Craving to be back among the stars
he mutters

*if only I knew
coming back would be a curse!

Pick up a picture
Of someone dead,
Look deeply
At the eyes.
Dark and distant.
A loneliness of not belonging;

The snatched shot
Seemingly drawing
What you and I
On this side
Can't surmise.
They look knowingly,
They look longingly,
They look right at me.

I seem to think
Those eyes foretell
The coming tragedy.
So I can't stand
To pose for posterity.

Log off your gadgets. Log onto Life.
Feel sunlight on your skin, smell the

Sea. Laugh with friends; no lol'ing.*
I agree. Life is for living.

But remember: With this handful of
Technology I can access the camera

On your phone; watch how the gentle
Breeze captures your hair in waves  

Half a world away, and say I love you,
And you hear it over there; smile...

****. Perhaps the future wasn't so
Bad after all.

"Whist," is what Mammy said,
As she whisked us off to bed.
Usually we'd go quietly.

But a gypsy woman sat at our table,
Reading tea leaves,
Pouring prophecies.

Guests were few, and she I knew
To be a special one.
She saw dark clouds in a cup.

My sisters, past the tender age,
Stayed up longer to hear her say,
"Tall dark men are on their way."

I pricked my ears from upstairs,
Tried to put both on the vent,
Both of them were forward bent.

Just then my father
Climbed the stairs;
I saw the dark mop of his hair,
He was tall,
He wasn't humming;
No one else foresaw his coming,
But I vanished off to bed.

almost words
             eddy in the murked
corners of my mind

they lack
                clarity
                       and  purpose
they lack
               need
                    and wanting

they lie
      fooled by the worth they
think they should have
   and so.... dissapate having
               never been
formed into  words....
         never having been
more than the
                   grunts and groans
of an overtired....mind
         fecund in potential...yet
barren in time.

              almost...words
gone upon the tidal surge

I hear,  "...blah... blah...blah..."
             "...yada... yada... yada..."
Tsk! Tsk!
So verbose,
And redundant too.
If you've nothing to say,
One blah will do.

When Jesus ate asparagus
Did his *** smell like mine;
When he ate a plate of cabbage,
As was often in his habit,
You didn't sense Divinity
In sublime proximity.
When he talked of sowing seeds,
Did the Magdalene accede ?
I know this sounds quite absurd
Talking about the living Word,
But when he ate a plate of beets
His ***** incarnadined.
(Perhaps that's how he made the wine).
And when he had a private dump
He wiped with The Roman Times.

Did Jesus use a hankie
When he blew his nose,
Or did he place ******* there,
They say God only knows.
Or if he thought he wasn't seen,
He might well use his gaberdine.

When he bathed in Jordan,
Did he clip his toes?
I haven't read this anywhere,
The Bible won't disclose.

Yes, he really was a man,
Doing the same, as I Am.
If he were here,
We could be friends,
We'd hear a joke,
Crack a cask,
Share a smoke.
I don't believe
We'd say Amen.