The Tome with out a Name
Without Subtance to Blame
Empty of Meaning and Void
Almost as though to Annoy
No message hidden Within
Never Started, no where to Begin
Yet Empty and without End
Without title it can't be Owned
So I guess this Isn't My Poem...JMF 2/1/15

She says something but I wasn't listening
I was feeling her ******* with my eyes
Then she points to something
Oh , my ! What a gorgeous ***
I could see both of my big hands
Cradling her most perfect buns
Then she's got legs of an Olympic gymnast
So thick , firm and succulent
Her long brown hair smells so good
I want to take a swim in it

"You haven't heard a word I said !"
She says with an air that's foul

"I'm sorry," I say ,"but I couldn't hear you .
Your body language was way too loud."

When I was 16, I slept-drove in my car.

Walking outside half-naked, I pulled my keys from my underwear like it was a jean pocket.

Entering my 2001 white Pontiac, I put the keys in the ignition and drove two miles before I merged onto the 101 S FWY.

I woke up terrified and behind the wheel, not knowing where I was until I was in the next city over. I drove back immediately.

Needless to say, I would have had no explanation if my parents or the authorities had found me...

Love makes me cry
a thousand times or more
But true love
does crazy things
like loving someone
for a thousand years or more
even though ...
one could only live
up to 50........

Love makes me cry
Living in ruins
Eternity in dreams
Making impossibles possible
How could it be?

I have lost for words
An imperfect diction takes hours
A crooked rhyme for days
An Incomplete lyrics for weeks
A boring song for months
Have I lost those magical words ?
My magic of poetry
is missing...

I've manned the Christmas Kettle
Every year for twenty seasons
I don't tell people why I do it,
But, you know I have my reasons

It's makes me feel so special
Doing something that's just right
I man it from round 5 till 12
And almost every night

It gets cold out there ringing
My bell, for all to hear
I do it for my charity
One I hold so dear

Each year I've been out hustling
Getting more each year than last
I don't know how long I'll keep it up
The time's gone by so fast

I don't do lights at home at all
I do not have a tree
But I'm out there with my kettle
Ringing loud where folks can see

This year it was amazing
I brought in much more than before
I changed where I was ringing
I was not out by a store

The folks at where I donate
couldn't believe how much I got
In fact they got rid of my kettle
And gave me a large ***

It's the most they've ever had brought in
By any volunteer
I know it will be hard to beat
But, I'll try again next year

I'll tell you how I did it
I didn't use a gun or knives
I just rang my bell outside a strip bar
And told the men I'd tell their wives

Seems to work a treat for  me
I keep their secret and don't tell
And they pay me off in fifties
I just stand and ring my bell.

One day the world
Started spinning fast round
Becoming a blur
Laying tall buildings down

What wasn't nailed tight
Flew off in the sky
People were ducking
With cows flying by

The dog on the corner
Barked his last bark
With tail between legs
He shot for the stars

The cat that watched this
Meowed with delight
Until he lost all
9 lives in mid-flight

All the empty cans
Along with broken glass
Paper, plastic
And all other trash

Stuff that never made it
Out to the dump
Went flying past fast
In one big ugly chunk

A rather strange scene
If you know what I mean
One minute it's here
The next history

Those left behind
Held tight in the breeze
Those that had time
Glued themselves to their seats

As fast as it came
It slowed down the same
All went back to normal
The way things had been

With less clutter around
To get in the way
I guess the world just needed
A good cleaning that day...

The reason why it's so hard for us to get paid and live on our words is because words don't cost us anything to give.

I sit on the street and pass out my writing.
All but a few keep on driving.

Do I just sit here and lock up my poems?
Throw them in a vault and never show anyone?

I sit in the market and pass out my writing.
All but a few keep on talking.

***** it. I don't care if nobody will pause to read.
And I don't care what they say about me, because words are cheap.

I sit on the pier and pass out my writing.
All but a few keep on walking.

Those who dare to sit and read, instead of speak while blind
Will find the value in a stranger's lines
Hidden just underneath.

I sit on a mountain and pass out my writing.
A hiker came by today and did something strange...

He started reading.

Just because **** is sterile
Don't mean that it's drinkable

Let's get out the rawness of life.
Expose emotions long supressed.
Talk about lonliness like the shadow's
My only compay.
Living without the only one.
Pain's a good theme.
Not solitude pain, or desperation anxiety;
The pain that poisons all systems,
Biological and Metaphysical.
To think nothing else
Beyond this immediate moment
Has been proven:
Abysmal philosophy.
Corruptable theology.
Contemptable hypocrisy.
In light of all this,
Nothing matters more than
The truth, and the search.
Tedious, numbing,
Truth.
Now that's raw.
And real.