I had a dream, but,
  awoke into half-conciousness and continued  on,      
           psychedelically candy visions,
where lemon trees grew apples,
            weeds were harvested to smoke:
the skies there, never black, were
                              blacklighted with Ultraviolet,
your face glowed with moonlight!
   eyes were shining bright with hope-
               televisions gave the news, that Peace
was sold on every corner.

            Then, I ran and leapt- like gravity had not been discovered yet!-
I guess, I had caught a vision of Heaven, then,
    woke up!

Standing before me
its green boughs reaching high,
I wonder the Christmas Tree why?

Does it stand for the
history of man-
his goodwill?

Or, for the world
of the future that
awaits, still?

'tis glitter , 'tis tinsel
a peaceful glow,
do they come from a world
you and I know?

Pledge, to me Christmas tree,
that you stand for tomorrow.
Where hope and  brotherly love
replace turmoil
and
sorrow.

I offer a humble offering, a not very well written song,
on this eve of Xmas, my heartfelt wishes
that Santa Claus visits, each and everyone.

Let me gather you all in the square,
and sing sleigh and jingle bells
while gathering rosy cheeks together
and sing to humanity.

Ole' Saint Nick on his sleigh is around
the corner, remember, when we were three,
how we anticipated.

Let us hope and suspend disbelief,
hear reindeer hoofs on the roof,
for just one Xmas,
again!

is wishing all little boys have shoes
     is that we sing everyday
the way we do today

My wish is if Jesus
       came today
he would be proud of me.

My Christmas wish
           is to end all misery,
is to be like him.

I strive, as we all do,
             to attain heaven on
Earth.

That does not ever
            mean it is
impossible.

Bach's "little fugue"
            played while figure eights
whistled in my head,
               along with mathematics
to an un-equilibrium point
           where self-confidence
meets self-doubt.

So, in
illusions created by the exact same demons
that saw the bottom from the top
and the   pope as part of a conspiracy,
I created a theory, and ended in a padded room.

I painted spots on walls not assimilating
anyone others works,
became my own victim,
committed to rationality
while acting eccentrically.

Visions came to me, I sought refuge in them,
things I saw the real world calls bug-brained.

There I envisioned the cosmos as a limit imposed
on one's relation to self. I saw the dynamics of  human conflict
as interludes of forced sanity.

I went as quick as I came.

forced into what I don't want to do
I enjoyed the chorus arranged in my head.
Like a game between people I don't understand.

I sneak into Princeton and proved the existence of God. in red sneakers unaware my theory was economic realism.

Then I rejected voices.

And won the Nobel Prize.

a bean or a pod having motivation inside recreating
life more energetic and clever than any parent
then get ate or flushed down ten million toilets
infiltrate society with words because it is in sewers
sanguine and quixotic indifferent
a breath is toxic to me
I venture Walter Mitty like fantasies theorize
tomorrow when I forgot yesterday,
introduce substances to discourse entertainers
abstract the emphasis transcendentally
blue-sky enterprises authentically created  as I
turn around and cry.

a treatise on compatibility this is theoretically
presented
by a linguist with limited trigonometry sense
   and since the heart beats and is 360 degrees
I sought out a tangent to measure her with
    or sine to figure out logically
whether we were compatible
             like functionally
on a straight line or tangentially
    perpendicularly
in degree and cosines or measurement mathematically
similar
then found no co-efficient to portray
her smile
fell out of my array
with nothing else
to equal
her.

To all at Hello Poetry!
   So many poems are written to woes.
I challenge you all to write humorously,
  lift my spirit.
Make me laugh, because I am in need of, laugh.
    I create now a category a challenge to smile for.
Post and create
       and all smile!

Do not stand at my grave and weep
by Mary Elizabeth Frye

Do not stand at my grave and weep:
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starshine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry:
I am not there; I did not die.

dead bodies while alive poor Porphyria
strangled by her own hair
which could be no Fairy tale ,
jabberwocky, listens
as does that famous semicolon concise;
By Ezra Pound.
  creepy
innocence or infamous
we all get to sooner.
On to Popeye
"Farm Implements......"
title and poem supplied by Ashbury,
hang  an albatross but don't shoot it
Mr. Coleridge,
it will hang around your neck.

her eyes were blond
a breast of Valentines
awestruck, we was by
*** that stuck out into yesterday and a face that
would make you     kiss her dad,
a friend of mine, stuck an elbow
into my rib and said, she's lookin'
at you. I knew she was.
But, was it because i was droolin'

wisdom. love
of logic does never presume, dear heart.
Regressive thoughts are justifications for psychic visions.
follow a chain a progression into axioms into infinity,
it could revolve forever, and get to where?
I state, for I am, I know the thought.
For what I know is a circular statement.
I build rational, I reason, look more at the past, then the future,
I still have more probability, philosophically,
of predicting, or becoming my hope,
eternal.