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  Jun 2014 Mark Upright
Path Humble
****, here I am again

suffused by incoming sunlight floods,
blonde tresses decorative,
and a
refrigerator light dim surprising,
******* a future fest,
when in search of ordinary milk and coffee

cherries, grapes, watermelon,
cole slaw, caramelized walnuts,
Spanish Marcona almonds,
chicken defrosting, and wine,
a pink rose,
blushing like me,
at the amplitude of love and blessings
I have uncovered,
and that covers me,
while she sleeps,
I sip first coffee and
her love

and more than suffused,
I am effused,
unable to contain all this,
what I am feeling,
like my water broken,
pouring tears
and I wonder who is

this idiot

that forgets to say
thank you
for what he
has been given,
and who in return
can merely offer up
a pauvre writ,
a love poem,
of salt and sweet
2014
  Jun 2014 Mark Upright
Path Humble
from the bed shared

I offer ask,
"would you like me to reheat yours?"

and she answers no hesitation

"no sweetheart, I'm good,"

not realizing she just
simple and easy,
through her sweet goodness,
reheated my love
for her
1- 2 - 3
  Jun 2014 Mark Upright
Still Crazy
grade my writings in magenta,
no red arrogance for me teach,
blue note jazz margin comments,
unacceptable marginalizing pithy succinct notes,
always cute, hard hitting,
even in day to day black or Bic blue,
refused!

give me ochre, amethyst,
give me the colors of a new born morn,
give me words of encouragement
next to that nicely writ,
without a self-serving
high faluting exclamation point,
astride my D, my F,
a polite professorial funk you

in azure gold
leave me,
write me in colors of hope,
even claptrap deserves
a nice funeral

because gentle teach,
this thought I preach,
what color would you like me
to grade your students in,
your writs,
when next I look
twenty years from now?

will you not leave
me,
be,
in
the color of better days
enthused?
For you teach, this I do profess...
  Jun 2014 Mark Upright
Still Crazy
for Beau

this mixte bag of nutty facts,
compote of this's and that's,
fragrant but yucky tasting potpourri,
sordid assortment of
seemingly unseemly
random collection of
facts, whoppers,
recipes and formulae, and his 'n her
stories (my fav!)
useless motorized drivel,
running around my head

that you have with me creme-filled,
data conglomerated,
transformed by mongol hordes of grey cells
urged on, nay transformed,
by **** and beer into
a magnificent miscellaneous mile of jumble,
virtuous and verifiable grab bag of
ever so humble,
tuneful melodies of a medley of
snatches and patches
of Jagger and Liszt,
a verifiable pastiche of
vital and downright dumb
Factors and Factoids,

I thank you suchly muchly*

musta taken years, maybe even
decades to collect and codify,
this assemblage of verifiable factoids,
after-all, took you twelve to
feed me in eye dropper ingestible quantities!

though with Wiki this and Wiki that,
I coulda save us all some time,
and since it is all on the Internet,
and any way 99% I forgot
like a cell phone number

no matter, I can reads and counts
and writes term papers downloaded,
but caught my eye you wrote
of a mutton stew denominated as
hotchpotch,
but we variant truants,
ici, aux Etats-Unis, on dit
and spell our salmagundi as
hodgepodge

but in summary summation,
thanks for teaching me creative thinking,
for without this skill,
I would but be,
a tool
of Wikipedia
and not its creator

P.S.  It's gadzooks,
not gad zooks,
according to Wikitionary,
even them Oxford fellas agree,
tee hee,
you could look it up
on the internetsky,
Teach....
Mark Upright Jun 2014
not a religious man
at times, I pray,
times, when the options are severely limited

look, get it, that makes me hypocrite,
instagram-man, shooting photo prayer upwards,
propelling them with all deliberate speed
skywards
thinking a passing angel will pluck'em
and hand deliver them to the correct
deity who will be good mood groomed,
thoughts fly, wishes returned bountiful

mark me upright or not,
mark me man with need for solutions,
mark me asking where should my eyes turn,
when there are none who answer,
mark me not,
for I have already been marked
Cained by life
Mark Upright Jun 2014
there is no perfect man,
there are the simple, the plain,
the whole of himself,
just so, contented in who he is,
needs not be, better than...

then he is on way to
upright, up and right
for the shades are clarified,
and those troublesome grays,
somehow have answers

his end is not peace,
his start, finish,
and all that is in between
one and the sane,
in simplicity comes
a joy of acceptance,
and therein is his path

— The End —