I did not mean to write about death on a Sunday morn
He said that he didn’t mean to dial my number at 6 am
this awoke me from my dream
I was dreaming of being in California
Waiting to board a bus that was leaving at 2 pm
It was headed to New York City:

Poems can be amazing topic to ease the pressure of the day
Recalling an odd glimpse of a dream can be so puzzling
The dearly departed is never going to come back to us: unless
They are a part of a soap opera story line:
Somehow this mortal man ought to go and joined them

I wish that ***** would have called someone from the grave
And woke them up instead of me:

I just saw a not so love president in a recent photo
Standing alongside his daughter on graduation day
He too, look like he wish someone, hadn’t interrupted
His busy schedule, to pose for that photo session

I read a poem a day for inspiration,
How do you get your inspiration?

You can
Walk on love
Like you walk on water
You can break a heart
Like you change the weather

You can go the extra mile
You can drive a Studebaker
Blow all the tires out
Curse you maker

You can
Say I love you
You can say I hate you
You can never say enough
When life gets really really rough

So when you learn to walk on water
When you learn you can't love one
And then another
When you live up to all your lows
put down all your highs
you can let me know

Stop.  March!  Won’t America stand?
We’re listening.  Try pulling open
Hear source device
Pain pleasure journey inherited
Life lesson posse, turn away edge
Maybe rage offering dashed despair
Meek crashed.  Face aware.
Forced push depending
Strive.  weep.  stride.  Laugh.
Sure, seek.  pass highs.
What’s truth?  
Slice fired investigators
Suspicious, merciless House
****** time gathering law
Easy used evening clues
Taste Democracy news
POTUS does past reckoning
Keeps tweeting…beating…******…drop
Checks chanting window
Collusion breathing lies!
Enemy jaw pulse come-uppance…
Trump’s troubles, Hope coming
Sweet feel

The Moon Man sat
Upon a branch
Fat and jolly
Strong and staunch
Just sat there
Broke out his lunch
Put his banjo
On his haunch...

Began to strum
A happy tune
I asked my favorite,
"Clair de Lune"
He said he'd play it
And we'd spoon
It's gonna be
So HOT in June
The heat is comin'
Comin' soon...

He rested there
upon that limb
The cats played sax
Upon a whim
They were right
In tune with him
The Star-fish
Began to swim!

The Moon Man played
The crickets sang
Through the night
The music rang!
We had such fun!
The drums would bang
The tympany
Made beat and clang...

Then he got up
His full height
He made his exit
To the right
Flew off that branch
Into the night
now the fireflies
Hold his light!


SøułSurvivør
(C) 5/18/2017

which grasp
has hold entirety
depends
moody I am on
Beethoven
immensely beautiful
wandering amiss in his dreams
I feel voyeuristic
red faced caught
looking in the boudoir
glass at my sister
and her young lover
or among tall grass
with heavenly  harped angels
silent breeze clearing my forehead
on the shore
the birds whistle
soft the surge closes
on sand and makes love
with the sun glistening
rapture
and I blush again

Just when I thought there wasn’t room enough
for another thought or poetry in my head,*

Up came this documentary poem
The Wednesday of May 24 was the day
President Trump meets with the pope Francis
at the Vatican: smiles and pleasantries aside
Who’s coming up with these lies?
Who have ties
with Russia and Putin?
We the outsiders are still unclear
about another golden buzzer:
But under a crystalline blue sky is where
Pope Francis and the President meet
Here I tipped my pen to
MARK LANDLER and JASON HOROWITZ
Reporting….
The fraught silence in political history

I'd like to whisper in your ear some year
ask what dear, might make your ears hear
your toes curl
the  effervescence of a crystal stream
the psalms of a vivid dream
what has your short hair in a
whorl
when alone and it's just you and me
I'd ask quite sultry
right at the limits of
human hearing
my dear sweet what has
you in it's grasp
then
make a paper airplane
and throw it in the air
wait
wait for you
watch it's flow
its timid throes in the air
and catch it in your hands
the metaphor