Where do society's extremists abide?
Rallies and Racists go side by side.
BBQs offer up well-done bigots;
On Jordan's lap dance the zealots.
Dogmatists rant in wild front rows,
True believers don't put on such shows?
Sexists cower in coastal Compounds,
Sects marry often in Salt Lake towns.
Troglodytes tan beneath southern suns.
Sepratists hold their final stand
On this side of The Rio Grande;
Fanatics occupy far Left and Right,
Partisans Op Eds are meant to enlight.
Mysoginists grab till they have blisters,
Huns and louts date brothers and sisters.
Philistines take our private spaces,
And whistle-blowers can't show their faces.

Of all the ists I know and abhor,
The musicist is a bigoted boor;
A connoisseur I abjure,
Who chooses tunes he insists
Are superior than my interests,
And disses tunes I like best.

So now I'll lay my needle down,
I've turned the table that goes round,
And plead musicists won't hesitate
To enjoy the tunes... don't discriminate.

Beulah gave out
Blossoms this spring
As big as sunflower heads.
They entwined the branches
Like the ribbon enclosing an expectant shower gift.
It's fragrance was the extract
Of an unbottled aroma
That is the Magnolia tree.
I rooted her in the yard
Four years ago.
She is iridescent for a brief time
Past mid Spring.
She has many Springs to go
Above the green growth below;
Many seasons beneth
The blue Summer skies above;
During the Autums ahead,
When I am dead,
And colder than Winter snows
Below her;
She will be there.
Rooted with care.

The Coronation is
A
Royal
Pain
In
The
Cosmopolitan
****;
The crowning achievement
of
Royal Navel Gazing.
Chuck it (them) all.

What we are aiming for
Is a good ways off; in the clouds;
Someplace yonder in the boonies;
Beyond our reach, or, in the middle of nowhere.

It is a pipe dream we’re lighting,
So remote we don’t see the smoke.

Our goals are far-flung;
Like another world’s offerings,
Where the deep blue skies are unattainable.

We are reaching for the higher fruit,
For a single bed in the Ivory Tower.

Visionaries are blinded beyond the pale;
Beyond the bounds, a good ways off;
Instead of grasping for the unearthly, the Utopian,
We must look next door;
Not at the moon or Mars or some galaxy
A million miles away,
To find what’s in our reach,
And grab it.

When I met you,
I knew,
You belonged with me.
Throughout these years,
Alone or apart,
No other woman
Lived in my heart.

When you met me,
I knew,
I belonged with you.
Apart or alone,
No other woman
Shared my home.

Whatever happened,
Whatever didn't;
We understood,
Together,
We're in it.

Not so sly as they are:
spent,
wasted,
burned out,
depleted,
beat,
petered,
done for,
empty,
sick of,
enervated,
******,
stale,
exasperated,
fatigued,
drained,
bored,
fed up,
worn,
haggard,
flagging,
narcoleptic,
weary,
feeble,
debilita­ted,
incapacitated,
indisposed,
torpefied,
paralysed,
atrophied,
stupefied,
soporate,
obtuse,
And
Finished.

I believe in her.
Not in supplication or prayer,
But because she cares
About every countless hair,
Every fallen sparrow
And unopened flower.
I believe
In her power,
Her daily miracles.
She cries wet tears,
Her heart beats blood,
Her hands open and close
Around **** or rose.
She's no ****** deity;
She's not ascended beyond reach.
Not an image of pity,
Craddling a bruised and ****** body
(Though she would).
She is flesh and thought.
I believe
Because she is.