Sign dictates on bike path, " 7 miles an hour"
I say, " Oh ****, now I can't go 25 miles an hour,
perhaps 20 or even 15, and I hope there is no "Bike Cop"
hiding behind some rock, bush or tree with a little "bike siren".

Sign dictates in an "open air train station", " No Smoking"
I say, " Oh ****, I hope he or she doesn't come up to me
directly and blow smoke in my face, I would really be *******."
I also hope that these mounds upon mounds of butts don't
stop me from walking even though "biodegradable"

Bus driver dictates, in front of bus, "Read the sign before leaving, please do not step past yellow line"!!
I cringe at the thought that my big toe goes over that ****
yellow line. If so, do you think that the driver will abruptly
stop the bus and throw the tip of your toes out the bus?
If so, I guess that the rest of your body would have to go as well!!!

Oh well, we live in a society, of some unnecessary mazes, and it gets worse and worse!! For that I give the "BIG *******!!!!!!" (PS just messin' wit ja )

Give me your mind and talk to me
let us talk my talk
let us walk my walk

Beware because I am
not a gold miner or even a coal miner
but a mind miner, extracting your self-product
lying deep within your deep and dark hidden caverns
I will dig out your most hidden psyche
I will dig out your most deep inner world by my grinding words
Your inner product will be on a talking conveyer belt,
washed polished and dried to perfection
I will then reinvent your freshly dug up social product
and inspect for flaws
If all passes my inspection, that reflects myself,
the stamp will declare, approved by the Good Mind Keepers of "Herd Mentality".

Bang those pots and pans
and blow those whistles too
Comes a better year
and love will come to you
Hug, laugh and dance
and leave 16 in the past
Say hello to 17
and give it all a blast
Jump up and down
like good old kangaroos do
Watch that confetti
land on top of you
Kiss all your
loved ones
and giggle in their face
make that yearly *******
never a disgrace
HAVE A HAPPY NEW YEAR GANG...

Watching night step-sitters staring at each passerby
abiding time as if counting sheep stepping with the city's cadence
Hearing sirens alarming in their BEWARE BLARING;
persistent fearfulness for evil and citizens securities
Staring-walking-bodies searching a barren land prostrating
before the great needle
Patched streets and decaying sidewalks by flooding night lights lay surreal

DECAYING fingers of poverty playing its fingers into every crack, crevice; into every pore, into every cell member
into one's whole being
Sounding the hip-hop generation street corners of hustlers
jiving away the night
The hustled and hustlers' overwhelming struggling for power; being surrounded by red brick and stone; being  incased in poverty

Pounding city hysteria;
at times laying silent in sleepless depth
by the waning gradualness;
anytime readying itself to ERUPT

After living happily ever after
And many years later
                            And many many years later
                             And lonely now,
                             good-bye my dear sweet prince,
                                          he now belongs to the reaper,
                                         holding back tears
                                        her heart aches
                                         The princess traces back
                                       on spinning mind-reels,
                                                her first kiss encounter,
                                           a flashing, warted-green-streek-
                                         jumping-up!!  Then the kiss

Let's escape
urban scorching days;
hot cement,
sirens,
and flashings from red to blue
then blue again

Let's excape
where a cool, cushioned green hill
in quiet and stillness awaits
across a narrow steel blue-green bridge
A bridge crossing,weeded, rusty,
broken railroad tracks
that beckons the call
to the other side,
from warlike city
summer shouts and cries

Let's flee abandoned pill-box look-alikes
these homeless homes
Let's flee boundaries of barbed fences and stone,
these monuments of a choking society

Just the same
paradise one block away
denied by our madness
vacantly awaits,
like a non-seduced wooded hill
what impotent partners
we are

And almost never remembered,
those whispering
leafy archways,
where those bending canopy
branches spread
to protect from the sun
the absent human head
A head filled with rememberances
yet forgotten
childhood days of tranquil green,
the smell of grass,
And birds that sing and fly

Forgotten way-up-puffs
of white against blue,
a musical buzzing bumblebe
And a little dancing ladybug
on a mushroom table top
Forgotten parachute seeds,
that fly
and a branch upon the ground,
your swatting stick,
your staff,
your royal rod

All forgotten
KINGS and QUEENS
we are in paradise
just one block away...

He and she walk alone so young.
So young he and she are.
Without another's tender touch
and tender kisses.
Being without a loving, caring other;
expressions desolved by war.
They're still in the desert
guarding buddies.
They're still in war-torn towns.
So young they are.
Behind every house door lurks
an unseen enemy.
Every crevice in their home-sweet-home,
a hidden device.
Every patch of an American road
hidden IED'S.
Every turn,every corner,every glance,every walk,
Every position, for some, a hand gun hidden in his
or her belt.
So well they learned their craft.
Their home vehicles are now Hummvees.
Their towns are now
the unfriendly and foreign Middle East.
They walk alone,these ANGRY ISLANDS,
unto themselves they are...

RW Dennen