I am in everything.
I am in nothing.
What am I?

Two identical vehicles impact head on in a collision where both vehicles were traveling at 70 MPH. This impact is equivalent to 1 car hitting a concrete wall at what speed?

You are in in a haunted jailhouse, when the storm outside knocks out the electricity. Just as your turn on your flashlight, you are seized by two ghost wardens. You are treated very poorly.

They offer you a choice of being decapitated, shot in the head, or strapped into the electric chair and executed painfully.

Which would you choose?

According to what do you judge merit in a world where worth is in the judgment of the witness?

Punk steam

Where the hushed
august moment
marries night to
day, a frightening
thing did take place;
thru this house's empty
space, skimmed a most
morose ghost,
and gazed in
upon your face!

She sat across from me
many years away she did seem
Time and Space still commingling
and once thought by me to be conspiring
to keep us a world apart.


Helpless was I in speech,
or naught had I the words to speak,
to this angel amongst the millions, one individually unique.
A falling star from the heavens, shrinking as she streaked
across the sky in many diadems, singing like an Old World lark.


Might I drink of your glass where it is sparkling,
I brought myself to ask finally.
The kinetic bubbles are tickling
the senses with emotions so sweet
as they pop under my nose sprightly
in the candlelight that is shining
thru the unfurled dark.

Instead she offered me her eyes innocently,
two clear craters full of life indeed,
they danced in the dim moonlight that evening
and revealed a guiltless smile within me
upon the release from Grief that she was offering
as an escape from my conservative soul now set free.
Thru Space and Time is now flying
Cupid's hurled dart.

My muse's absence saw another bloom
Saw I review of a praise, richly gathered.
Defer your attribute with golden plume
And dearest phrase is by all wit shattered.
I think nice aims while some write words,
And like untutored youths pipe amen
To every hymn that alert ardor affords
In shiny form of discriminating pen.
Hearing you praised, I say it is true,
And to utmost praise I add much more:
But that is in my head, as thou loves you,
Such words are final, they hold rank before.
Then others for sake of words give relief,
Tho my silent thoughts do indeed speak.

A woman needs her needs 2 be met.
A man, wants his large ego stroked.
Be tender men, til she's really whet
Her appetite. Wait until it's soaked
Before wanting your dish be served.
She doesn't want your dish to come
Before she's had her appetite curved;
Really fulfilled by proper attention.

Her appetite need be proper licked,
In need more than your easy dish;

Take the time to get to know her likes
Before you just stuff her with the same
Dish she could get anywhere she likes.
Passionate suitors know how to tame
The appetite which pangs with time.
Go slow. Be generous in your love.
Be a master chef for only her. Shine
Will come when you polish thereof

Your skills at satiating true hunger.
Real men know what a tongue's for.

What is red and smells like blue paint?

What is white and smells like bananas?

How kind & lovely dost thou build shame
Which, like rot lies in the aromal petal
Doth see the allure of thy flowering name
Yet, in a sweetness dost thou sin entail!
Thy lips do speak the romance of thy days,
Making immoral mention on thy sport,
One cannot criticize but in a type of rave;
Naming names confirms a sinister report.
Yet, in a heavenly house such vices willed,
Which for their residence chose them thee,
Where Beauty's shroud doth veil such filth
All things turn fair, (far as the eyes do see!)
Take care, fairest dearest, of this advantage;
The sharpest wits ill used loses their edge.

Tho I stand victorious by the world's edge -a true conqueror! you yet know how frail mine heart truly is; and my feet dangle in the waters of The Earth Mother, and freeze cold as The Underworld fires hiss! Thence, or thereafter, My Lover, you aim to put me to bed, so my head lies nestled in your chest, as you do slowly stroke my head. My heart beats a bit faster, as you let me know my worth... and I glide my hands gently down your neck -so cherishing the lace, before the bare skin like alabaster is-unearthed, as if to let you know how delicate your life really is: your very vulnerability; how easily I could take said life into my very hands! But rather I protect you from all the evils of Reality, from the depths of Hell. I guard your preciousness with my everlasting life, if anyone tries to hurt you, even Death himself, they all shall crumble at my Will. The sharp edges of my eyes will dull the blade of any knife -for I remain... The Immortal Lover still.

All thoughts of a fond wish -into Reality
Resolve. They are but servants of this, my Passion,
Or -This Dear Love.

Often in my conceiving I replay moments
Unpassed, between the hours of silence -prostrate,
Restless beside my dreams dashed -spoken hereof.


The evening glare steals the scene merging light and dark,
Whilst I intend to let her perceive my intent of heart, my Feelings buried deeper than she could e'er know.

Many woes hath she for her years, therefore how can
I let her wear these troubled fears alongside me in this
Chamber of guarded Hurt, or this secret abode?

And sometimes from this wild hearth, I ponder my own
Worth when compared to hers. She could hath my all.
Will it be enough?      -I do not pretend to know.

My dearest flame is now roused out of her dreams, and her radiant eyes, tho cloudy skies they once were, now shine their resplendent streams, brighter than the midday sun in summer. Now is mine love at the ready, yet let all the undefiled maidens therefore keep attending; and tho I keep now all my actions fast and steady, I pray to Thee that I now nor ever, shall to her name offenses bring -and that, my friends, is what love most true truly is!

Accustomed to the night,
      I walk thru the puddles
Made up of my sorrow.

I smell yesteryear, static white,
      Vanilla Fields, and subtle
Time beneath the bow.

Your hair once would
           Fall around me,       pleasant
       Sounds of yesterday


Da-da-da   -da da-     da-da-da

All notions of emotions that do compel,
That due me so truly in tremulous motion
Set. Set this blessed mortal coil into action,
And true they do my spirit save from Hell.

So why in my wide-awakened nightmares
Dost the lost choose to give thus to me,
The angers and dangers of abstained Pity,
Refusing, or confusing Love with scolding stares?

When midst the bliss of enjoyment I do naught seek
Their advice, a vice they claim will change me.

How many round trips between a fire and a water supply would it take to put out said fire if it takes 5.5 gallons to extinguish it and you have a 1 gallon bucket?

Beloved Mortality,
I do not make haste
To ask my leave for
Impatience of thee,
Not in truth, despair,
Or in disbelief did I
Espy what others grieve
And seemed to fair a
Worthier world for
Me: but forasmuchas
I shall pass, and pass
Into a forgetting, I
Pass nonetheless.

Lo! I remain much consumed by thoughts of death, and see the bones once draped in mortal flesh; and hear the rude creatures upon the steps, neath the sun that in the  Western sky sets; and drift across the turbulent air, where I smell the deadly flowers there by the currents fair, (and so brought to bear,) to me - in my serpents lair.

Therefore walk the walk when you talk the talk. Have no enemy but Satan -Love thy neighbor!

Who states most, which can state more
Than this fine praise, that you
Do adore?
Ye whom saw dun beauty
All her store.
Which should illustrate
Where I do pour?
Bare poverty within sad pen
Does dwell:
But a loan could lend a sum
Some vainglory
Yet I still do address you  -if ye Could tell,
That you are you, 
And this is me,
 Such glorifies thy story.
Let me but effigy what in you be Writ
Not making dim what He hath Made clear;
And such a silver shall fluff this Bright wit,
Making your silvers cherished Everywhere
You to your beautiful dank
Right be a curse,
Seeking dolor silvered, left  silver Dolors.

.

Naught mine own angst, nor the apocalyptic soul
Of the universe in dreams of what may come to pass,
Can e'er the length of heightened lovers' shrivel,
Suppose a penalty to an enclosed room devoid of glass.
The waning beam hath been rediscovered from the veil,
And the somber prophets mimic their very own prophecy;
Possibilities now deemed certainty by seers themselves,
And order or peace proclaims olive branches a - plenty.
Now with the dew of misty time-honored and worn Time
My love feels new and fresh, but Death to me does cling,
Tho, despite his scythe with which he reaps, I'm alive!
He adds insult to injury upon those he the end did bring,
If the world forgets the names of writers whom toiled,
Yet many poets meet critical acclaim & enjoy the spoils.

Among, or in dispersion thru,
The great misty and smoky view,
Of a springtime gaggles' morning peal
Sets the pageant as all seems surreal.

By candlelight, and hearthside fire,
With shadows dark out in the mire;
Which knocks me out if truth be said
When looking out by windows ledge.

I hear the windy banks call my name,
As I begin to drift, and start to dream,
Of all the passing most precious things
That I see, which do so have effect on me.

So I am poor, but withhold the only key
To allow thee this, my dear safe treasure.
The rich will not a moment closely study,
For dull is the point of frequent  pleasure.
Therefore are treats so posh yet so thin
Since rarely coming in  ages they bound,
Like valuables sum men give on occasion;
Or gaudy gems placed just so in a crown.
So  the moment arrives to peek my chest
Or peep this, my only treasure assessed,
Thru a lil locked spyhole it's 2b revealed.
Make a blessèd instant instantly blessed
-None outside to unfold the pride sealed.
Adored are you whose merit gives scope;-
If had a Victory; if in Poverty, (stay broke.)

"Everyone has issues, even if we don't subscribe to them."

Gift to me gifts, sure! not your present pleas
-If truly ****-poor posture deadens Grief.
Wish duly this, you're not sure, pressing needs
It's to me this: pure, hot, for less than these.
Which doobie hits? Forgot your lesson, Steve?
This truly is, more, (not for questioning.)
Ne'er take me for the motley foolish things
Where late thee adored me, got me by the cruelest means
-There may be morphine by the tulip leaves.
Share, make me more, free not the ghoulish wings.
Swear they need Morning Time, it's the newest tease
Where maybe pure themes rhyme with the truest ease.

Available in paperback on Amazon for $5. Written by me last year, it's a short cautionary tale full of suspense and intrigue. Please check it out. If you're an Edgar Allen Poe fan you'll enjoy it.

Could I,
                   Should I,
                                               Would I...
Pick this tiny rose for thee?
Take a life to see you fulfilled?
Clip the thorns so that
No blood will seep?
Watch it live a while and
Quickly wilt?

Could I,
                     Should I,
                                              Would I?
I can,
                         I shall,
                                                   I will!

I remember the first time we met
It was a night I never will forget
I politely asked you if I was the
One you wanted or really needed

In telling me you proceeded...

I need some time
To think it over.
It will be just fine
Come October.

The days progressed
And so did we
Love became you
As did it for me

And in telling me you conceded...

I need no time
To think it over
Everything is just fine
It is October.



But problems arose as
Will happen
We drifted apart
And you asked what would
Happen

And I responded then...

I need some time to think it over
"Maybe" it will be just fine
Come October.

I ponder when so much which grows
Grasps in virtue but a single moment,
That this theater portrays nil but shows
Where the stars in cryptic spell comment;
When I note that mankind does increase,
Encouraged or judged by the selfsame sky,
Boast in young blood; but on high decrease;
And waste a courage on an expired memory.
Then the vanity of this changeable stay
Sets you wealthiest in bloom by my sight,
Where immoderate hours consider decay
To distort thy youth into blackened night;
And, battle I with Time since it is you,
What he took away, I suffused it new.

'Tis daybreak, a Summer morn; and as an orange flare Rises, it seems that the skyline burns, and billows sail Away whilst the windy currents do go on... eagerly, as
The desirous, bright star parts the sky this very dawn.

Take your time,
Read the book.

The cover sure
Is very lovely,

But know...
The beginning,
Know the
Premise...

Get to know
The Authors.

Don't skip
To the
******.

A great
Book
Is so
Much
More
Than
That.

Gentle pity upon a waning moon, twilight
Soon to beckon me through an eerie tune.

But, Lo! to thee, hath I spoken thus too sweetly?
Lo! I see, cats eyes can catch light -she, my meaning.

My friend said his girlfriend was proving
Difficult to satisfy. He said he tried Everything to get her where she wanted
To be, but she just wasn't reaching the
Heights she desired. I offered to help. I
Said she likes it when you...


For some reason, he got upset and threw
Me out.

What did I say?

The gloom in her tender garden
Of memories stains me just as well.

Torn, yet this stretch of night
Is not counterfeit to the eyes.
Purple heart bluffs, as ides
Of each month come hastily by.

Men of conquest, men of honor,
A call to glory is a call to clangor.
Yet still is the restless nightmare
Alive for the wounded warrior.

Post me fellow hp members your responses.
Mine is " I'm kicking my ***; do ya mind!??!" -Liar Liar
Well, one of my faves from Comedies.

2 8 4 6
3 7 2 5
4 6 4 4
5 5 2 3
6 4 2 2
7 3 2 5
8 2 4 2

I am fire, burning, burning for another chance at love.

What lingers, is invisible, and is sometimes silent as it is expressed?

Who will trust my lyric is so just
If be it thought just satirical farce?
As it is, many think I merely jest
When carrying the line in new arts.
I could ink the glamour of lovely eyes
And with devices tally up ladies graces,
But generations would claim I tell lies,
As angels keep to themselves such faces.
So if my aging lines keep to their page,
Tho slighted be, by some quick of tongue,
I could coyly claim ladies be all the rage;
In an expanded measure of an new lay sung.
But were these graces just borne by my writ
None would be just in my eyes to try me by it.

"Hell must be contagious, because I catch it from you nearly every day."

Once The Garden, then a grave.
For Original Sin, Eden became,
Our Innocence' resting place.

I am given to an unfamiliar direction, disturbed into one in need of sympathetic sorrow and affection, left to fall to ruin in a mode, a condition of the dejection -by the one whose tenderness once was, but by no thoughts is considered to be anymore. A shadowy ghost that was long ago and once before a primary source to my hearts little store, but to its succor she could not have been made to allot anymore; and by her own admission she never will put in again -for I have received well not a thing. Now, for this, my heart's made harder, that ***** of mine which I had to barter; that part of me that at a time had been an inviolable origin of gentle utterance, reflecting bright moving points of light divine and made of true substance: but in every sense, I am one who has become most poor. Without a home, without a cent; alive in Him, yet dead to her.

It's not of consequence who you are, you live: fly quickly... amidst the fields by my gentle vault: trample not the daisies where I consult, hearing the climbing vine and ivy.

I watched you stay. The singing dove did moan. Yet don't chase it from my tomb. To bid me well, save its freedom. Life is great: oh let it fly oh darling one.

It was under the mistletoe at the door, on the cusp of love you died, a maiden right-so dear-already far from thee I did love tonight.

So my lids closed out the good light. And here I stay alas for evermore -with angels beings deaf to dreams- in the remembrance of Night.