Instinct inside of me,
in the most pious of men,
testifies to evolution
a reptilian brain stem,
procreate and populate,
the most fit,
Praise no God,
we are  human,
nature like dogs,
we follow passion and wants
blindly,
on autopilot, like flies
we are drawn to ****.

The memory is a precious thing
   Of what truths it can bring?

I remember being young
And hating the waiting to be old
Remembering the grown ups
   And the stories they told
Of being young, wild and free
I don't think that was ever me
  I grew up fast with an alcoholic dad
Always scared of making him mad
   He was tall and strong
Couldn't ever be wrong
But you see...
The
       value
              of
                   this
                          memory....

     Is that it's simply a reminder
Because it's no longer true
    He worked really hard
And pulled himself through
He's still very tall and strong
      But admits when he is wrong
He truly loves and deeply cares
    See why I value this memory?
Why it means so much to me?
It proves the
                 truth
                         will
                                set
                                     you
                                            free..

last year
when Jane was just 4
I took her out to the shops
and we sat in the meals area -
me with my coffee, and Jane with her lolly -
and this sweet, genial old lady
stooped down and spoke with Jane:
"My, what a beautiful girl you are
How old are you, sweetheart?"

and Jane showed her four fingers;
the old lady collapsed, and died of shock

one year on
and Jane will still not tell
how she got the *four fingers

Find yourself
against again
all odds, with
the prettiest
******, in
this whole
region.

Gently caresses,
she does,
your genitals
says the
wittiest
repartee.

Come, calm
down, old
man it's
just your
imagination,
wake up to
that headache.

For one poem I shared here at HP
I got 55 views of which 5 were hearts -
hey, what happened to the 50?
OK, I don't expect all readers
to like the poems I post
so maybe HP -
to give readers a choice -
could introduce other buttons like:

DISLIKE
HATE
DESPISE
F _ _ _
YOU CALL THIS POETRY?
WENT TO SLEEP HALFWAY
DESPICABLE
DID NOT READ BUT I CLICKED LIKE
WORTHY OF BEING PLAGIARIZED


and so  then I might get a better view
of each of my poems, for example:

55 views

5 LIKE
20 F _ _ _
10 DESPICABLE
6 YOU CALL THIS POETRY?
10 DID NOT READ
BUT I CLICKED LIKE
4 WENT TO SLEEP HALFWAY
0 WORTHY OF BEING PLAGIARIZED

What a hearts thinks?

What it really feels?

** L O V E
         O
         L      
         A
         T
         I
         L
         E

the goldfish
was in a fish tank
and it turned to the other fish
and the goldfish said:
*"Hey, do you know how
to drive this ****** thing?"

I’ve got five minutes
Then I must leave my verdant patch
On the skirt of a wind-rustled lake
hidden behind Logan's Roadhouse

Five minutes
to mentally finger with the fetal position
In which I awoke this morning,
there as the sun drew long shadows,

I, a diminutive daub of nautilus,
On a California King,
rippled plane of sand,
Sporadic shivers, beneath a chenille blanket

I, the town crier of dawn as
My own dreams ran screaming through the silence
Pointing a finger at
my sanctuary… “Here is your pearl thief!”

Men in hats, briefcases, heel-toe black clicky and shiny shoes
on leashes lugged,
Yanked by noisy hounds passing by
stop, sniff, snarl-toothed *******…

then one caught my scent,
“Five minutes more sleep,” I implored
"Find another dreaming fleshy mess of bones!"
And leave me to my pearl.

But it’s a universe that simply will not wait
And suffer fools for sleepers,
not a moment more
Yet for my many sleepless minutes after,

Dusk till dawn, and still beyond,
it’s always,
                  five
         minutes
more

1
Why is 6 wary of 7?
Because 7 is a 6 offender



2
How do you keep
an idiot in suspense?