there's no point writing out what poetry is... if you don't actually write it.*

a whiskey prior noon,
too soon, too soon,
too soon?
i'll be cooking a turkey curry later,
a whiskey prior noon,
too soon, too soon,
too soon?!

rhyme or rhythmic, perhaps the latter
in Dante's trinity of rhymes -
poetry of the near-illiterate,
who never read as much as could
have been -
thinking it out as origin and originals -
a man without influence is
not worth reciting -
                                   he'll still have to borrow
the life of a Henry VIII somehow,
whether he has or hasn't read a book
concerning the man -
while the Vatican emerges as the gossip
library of all the European royal families,
and indeed Henry VIII dubbed
Anne Boleyn's cow dangler *******
duckies - i think it's due to the fact
he quacked while he suckled the *******
like a pre-mature **** not producing ***** -
seriously, no milk;
and as honesty goes, ******* literature
does it for me, patron saint kenneth rexroth -
self-education moulds the self into a
pristine sequence of surprises -
there the pop of a balloon,
there the weeping clown...
there the giraffe on stilts!
indeed even at university entry point
where i deposited my self
i came back with debts!
idiotic treachery of teaching the politicised
version of language,
as language per se simply called grammatically
sound, in politics simply versed "correct";
two satans from Syria while Solomon
had his harem,
                          a third from Poland,
they say the holocaust,
6 million if not more citizens of the world
with polish passports - mind you
they took the Diogenes quote
into left and right parallel readied for a march -
Apollo listened then laughed at
the failures counting to 13 - laughing
while the words 'too the moon!' were eased
out from his helium filled lungs.