Peter, my closest friend,
Worries.
Name it - he worries.
Shows it too,
In everything:
Cause I worry
Bout everything, he frets.
What advice can I offer:
Don't use Compound W.

It's early in the day.
The birds chirp Spring awake;
The trees are in their underwear,
They've yet to brush their teeth.
The rain will wash their faces;
Right now they're a disgrace.

He moves slowly in the morning,
Scratching bark and boles;
He ambles to the frozen lake,
Before donning fine green clothes.

Spring is waking up now,
Sap's running from his nose,
Spring is waking up now,
Rubbing blurry eyes,
Spring is waking up now,
And winter's in repose.

Ones who look
But never see,
Are ones who won't
Agree to agree.

Ones who hear
But never listen,
Never get
One's position.

Ones who touch
But never feel,
Have heavy hearts
Forged in steel.

Ones with answers
Who never ask,
Are usually blowing it
Out one's ***.

Ones who smell,
Well...
Avoid those ones.

You shape in a drape with bright disease
Claws sharp , Dixie fried , everything plus
Focus your audio gin mill cowboy
Hanging paper while interviewing your
brains , no place to jungle up
Know your groceries lead sled
Until you noodle it out keep it
Mason-Dixon line
It's all off the cob .


Bass drum knuckles - one who loudly over shadows anyone else , a bully .

A shape in a drape - well dressed

Bright disease - to know too much

Claws sharp - well informed on a variety of subjects

Dixie Fried - drunk

Everything plus -  better than good looking

Focus your audio - listen carefully

Gin mill cowboy - a bar regular

Hanging paper - playing with forged checks or documents . Liar .

Interviewing your brains - thinking

Jungle up - having a specific place to live or to be

Know your groceries - being aware , do things well

Lead sled - a classic (older) car

Mason-Dixon line - anywhere out of bounds regarding personal space

Noodle it out - think it through

Off the cob - corny

All the above except title provided by Adrienne Crezo .

Hello Poetry's
existential dilemma;
should I Like myself?

This tells me I'm running
Out of titles,
The air is coming
From the north and stirring the trees.
So now you know the weather.
And well the title tells the time,
So this is the end of this
Poem, and now sports.....

I only want a woman
To cook and to clean
No other obligations
Do I really need

No hassles, no hurdles
For me to jump through
No one to tell me
What to not and to do

One that doesn't mind me
Doing nothing all day
Or spouting off mindless talk
With nothing really to say

A woman that does what I need
And then goes away
To do it all over again
On the very next day

Guess what I'm saying I need
Is a woman of some kind
That is all three of these
Deaf, dumb, and blind

Laughter is universal.
Extraterrestrials **** themselves with it;
Martians **** their pants;
Venutians titter til they cry;
Earthlings **** themselves with it
Splitting a side,
Rolling on the floor,
Chortling all the while.
Politicians shake hands gleefully,
Snickering, cackling,
Standing us against the wall.
A good roar, hoot or howl
May be good for the soul,
But is dangerous,
Especially if you
Have a fit
Of tee hees, ha has and yuk yuks
While orbitting.

Before I die I want to be somebody's favorite hiding place. The place they can put everything they need in order to survive. Every secret, every solitude, every nervous prayer, and be absolutely certain I will keep it safe.

I wrote a poem once in fine
point pencil that went
unnoticed so I erased it

I wrote my next poem in nib
and ink from a well
and spilled the ink all over it

I next tried to write a poem
on an old fashioned typewriter
because the ribbon was all dried out
it turned out unreadable

So I decided to try posterboard
and a King Sized Sharpie to write upon
my next poem  and...