Silly Rabbits

What the bad news was
He found me too late:

For us to start all over again,
Meant diving into dark waters
I offered no guarantee
Didn’t need sweeping off my feet

Everything was going according to God’s plan
Not man’s evil deed:

In the mist of everything, I knew trouble
Was up head: Rings would be taken off
Snap photo would be taken out of wallets
And nights of cold showers before going to bed
The refrigerator would be empty once again

Because he found us:
The man who flew to high
nights would be like a silencer

Facebook on liners would be his friends
And the house of Jericho would tumble down again

I choose freedom; he took a leap of faith
Don’t cry for me: cry for him, from love to disgrace,

It took thirty odd years for him to look good in the mirror
but it took a few second to look bad in her eyes

It took me one year and I  fix it.
Lost time pencil in:
True love of a good friend

Don’t cry for me; cry for him:
I offered no guarantee:
I offer no sideline referee

Didn’t need to be sweep off my feet
Man’s evil deed wasn’t meant for me
neither being a relationship referee.

Squandering the nations wealth
selling
photo opportunities, they're
outsourcing our health
and it's
all done by stealth,

they're tossing us in at the deep end
while they toss themselves off at
the weekend,
you don't believe me?
so
sue me
but
them are the ones that you voted for
men that are noted for
having
extremely peculiar vices.

Strangling upon the reflection
of self,laughing as ones own
hand engulfing  the voice trying
to expel the words of
                                  "Help me.

Amusing, ones own words
                   crying for comfort.
But finger tips swallow regrets.

Her demons spoke upon
         her fingers, play things
of woeful intentions.

"We can help you find fulfilment,

Her hands are stronger than one first
thought, gripping me to sleep.

A mind stays awoken, within the clasping
moments of ones self devised demise....

I, harbor danger.
Forever attempting to befriend the beast within
My grip, white knuckles, too weak,
She burns sharp as acid through the cracks in my fist,
Poison trickles through veins, taught.
Panic.
A Grasp of desperation,
Stumble,
on the edge with no choice but to balance
on the tips of broken glass.
A thing of beauty,
pride or disgust.
Both,
it must be
everything at once.
Terror swallowed in the dark
Demented
Chaos

prefer celery to carrots
light scrunch over an orange hard crack,
straw red over berries bluest,
coffee over tea,
skies white clouded
over
all clear, unadulterated uni-tone,
blondes, brunettes, redheads,
even pink or blue haired,
well, ain't going there
(wink wink,
too smart for that...)

but that's just me

colors viral virulent  over manhattan grey~black,
a good Pinot over a glass of Jack,
beach and sea undefined
over lake delimited, outlined bounded,
ocean caught fresh over farm raised,
city slick over country sweet,
striped bass over monk,
tuna bests salmon,
but both miso coated please...

Italian Indian Ethiopian
Sushi and occasionally Chinese,
all grand,
but my kosher deli and dogs, pickles,
yellow mustard ball parked,
tops them all
especially when serving
all-you-can-eat
over tasting portions...

but that's just me

right over left,
naked better than ****,
polite over rude,
Rembrandt tops Vermeer,
but his light nonethess,
extra over ordinarie...

Swiss over white American,
Gruyere beats goat cheese,
citrus tops apples,
sweet melon my
secret passion,
paprika and oregano,
never ever cilantro,
milk over OJ,
especially, grade A
milk of human kindness,
all flavors

love my poems centered,
(except for this one)
with no sugar added,
but a lot of cream and sweat,
both a necessity, not a luxury,
prefer mesmerizing,
crafting hard, laboring,
me writing, you imbibing,
leaving you oohing and loving
me
because of the appreciation built in
over
ditties that are semisweet
sugar nadas that populate the
easy come easy go away
poem of the day

but that's just me

like myself hard
cause when I melt,
to a child's grin shyest,
laughter silly me provoking
it is ever so better so...
tears, any kind, don't mind
laughing and sorrowing pouring,
let genuine be my only test
speed limit barrier unlimited

sorta saved a street crossing
phone-occupied-woman yesterday,
put my arm across her body
fast hard, unasked
so she wasn't
bicycle crashed,
both looks well received,
the *** and the gratitude,
but latter over former,
if I had to choose,
but I dont

but that's just me

Joanie M. over Judy C.,
Amy over Adele,
Eva Cassidy over all...
Zombies over Beatles,
Blunt over Taylor,
Rhyming Simon over Billy Joel,
no typos over flaring,
glaring no caring...

your poetry over mine,
cause it amazes,
cause mine,
just old familiar crazies,
just runaround Sues from yester pester days,
transcribed for a someday later
future grimacing laugh of
good god did I write that!

but that's just me

wrote quite the many
literary escapades
this morning,
like the yore,
good old days,
when every glance,
remark passing
made me run
to tablet them
in perpetuity ASAP

placed them before you
scattered thither and dither,
like all that jazz notes
running hands over planes geometric,
most just average,
but all there in hopes
you would love me better

but that's just me

sneaking inside you with
a wink, a tink-ering whimsy,
a stupid smile, a wicked sinning
humongous grinning
with a belly laughing,
havoc raising, me crazing,

*but that's just me

Give me a Purpose, with a Reason to keep Persevering here.
Give me the Heart of a Lion, and with the Love that never fades.
Give my Heart an unlimited amount of Love for those who's lost.
Give me your Knowledge and Wisdom to show others who you are.
Give me your Peace, your Strength , and your Heart for the Lost.
Give me your undying Love for all whom needs you which is all.
For there is not one person, whom needs you not we all are sinners.
Whom does not deserve your Grace, and Mercy as well Lord God.
We are all Slowly dying, while we are Living in this here Life here.
For not one shall Live forever except you Holy One the Christ.
For we all are Slowly dying while Living in our own little world.
There is nothing that can save us, except you the Holy Savior.
Whom stole our Hearts, while we were yet enemies of each other.
Yet you still Bless us and Love us, even way back then Lord.
There is nothing that I desire more than to Feel your Presence.
To know that you still are Leading me toward home in Heaven.

style; perhaps my frenzy unedited
kind of poetry contrasts with
those whose whims are more whimsical
a four line acbd or my liberal taking of conjunctives
and splices my way
contrasts ;
tell a story is my parody
give a scene make it half real at least give character
with ambiguity, let the reader finish it:
prose a theory argue it halfheartedly
when the theme is never that ,
between lines is much of
the daily things, so in my poetry.