i wander along the walkways
where the tame animals are fenced
and where the loyal crowd climb
up to the big top
i'm paid a pittance
to put on a little show
before the big one starts
i never tire of
petting the elephants,
the tigers, even the
tiny black spiders
that crawl along
the picket fences
my hat is a paper mache affair
that keeps coming loose
till it looks like part of my hair
i have shoes too big for my feet
and most days my smile
is only half complete
people see me
think i'm a good **** for their jokes
let's taunt this
doddering, nerdy bloke
nobody laughs at me except
when i cry
it's like i'm back in school
the poor picked on guy
i'm silent like Keaton
quiet no riot
though sometimes i fear
a bully might sneak up
and give me a beatin'
but bravely i forge on
happy when i hear
the roustabouts warbling a song
or an elephant yawning in
the early dawn
i don't complain much
though i hunger occasionally
for a tender touch
i think of my lost loves
but that just makes me cry
i pull out my hanky
and daub while
the people get
a good laugh passing by
my life is here
but one day will go
and people will then say,
"you don't mean THAT poor Joe?"
and maybe the band
will strike up a tune
and maybe not
fame i have never sought
luck or no luck
life's just the way
the cookie crumbles
so let the acrobats tumble
the trapeze artists take
their flips and the
lions roar at every crack of the whip
i remain a clown
of no renown
who rarely hears the clapping sound

Hear the eee eee eee and the eee eee eep!
black sheep gathered on a curbside street
to blow piccolos from cavities deep
to let jaunty tunes fill the skid row streets.

Don't skim those keys
like your fingers are feathers,
Press down the loud pedal,
Lean in earnestly and
Do beat those hammers;
Break the glass of your voice,
Croon wooden lines from an
old folk ditty if you must,
but jump on it!
That fin I gave you
nestles in your pocket
and all I hear are a piano tuner's
pick...pick...pick...
Lift this shroud of night,
Be God,
Open the heavens--
your fingers bouncing aflame with
the apocalypse of daylight!

eyes following hypnotically
each cigarette
one after the other
new ones quickly lit from embers of the last
motions endlessly repetitive
tantalizing dog into a
trance-like state
object to object
dragging him along
hooked on the girl's wieldy chain

the butler
brought in
the tray of libations
and it seemed
her ******* were
thinking me as
I thanked him
and wondered if
I must choose
between his
unfamiliar hug
            or
her gaudy ****
so I moseyed
over to a
corner and
tried to
explicate the
dinner gong
tolling across
the mansion's
badlands like
strident
smacks
ringing
out of a
*******'s dungeon--
I could almost
hear the ****
Piper getting
paid or asking
to be--
Well, I guess,
after all,
she was holding
my tray,
wasn't he?

I do think, darling
If you fixed me deviled eggs
Such work would show you loved me.

lacey sea foam tossing through windy air

aging man with walking stick and poet's mop of gray hair trudges through sand...
halts, leaning on his stick , observing an old woman with shriveled body
and age-riddled skin stretched out on a giant towel trying to get a tan

[Title Card: Maybe this man, old tattler, esteemed former laureate, is wondering if he could make a sonnet out of this sight. ]

he walks on, stooping to pick up a conch shell near his feet
looks at it, turns it clock and counter, peers into it

holds shell to ear
starts slow meditative amble towards mist-waving distance

[Title Card: Doesn't it seem he might be hearing humming of every thing's destiny in the brittle pink alleys?]

Don't mind those creeps.
What do those creeps know?
How dare they trample
The FLOWER of your SMILE
And turn it into such a
STAB of solemn GRIEF!

at first little squeaks asserting...(you thought nothing of it)
you wanted it this way and did your bit

bit when tiny fingers and hands started the gotcha grasps!
you were defenseless against the kickings and a sudden lash

how you dreaded those crazy boundings from side to side
that made you think you were in for a rough ride

and today fists pounding madly with fierce blows
as if a future dictator were warming up in embryo!

i

Wherefore has this unspeakable evil arrived in our midst?

A racist highway patrol trooper by name of Brian
loves to see how all these black folks are dyin'
Is much maligned for his own terrible ruse
that recently put a black woman in her noose

Amur leopards
Blue-green eyes, soft sleek spotted fur
Amur leopards
victims of man's greed intrepid
to show off coats for him and her.
Stop the hunting, help save for sure
Amur leopards

a mourning dove is
not a morning dove unless
heard in the morning

destiny
maps
dreamers

Let us
seriously consider
bringing back
the horse
as a
means of transportation
in our cities.

Sound of bacon frying.-------No, it's not raining.

Melodrama is when you are allowed to laugh at tragedy.

I believe all animals have a human component to themselves. Hence they can be rightly called human animals or human beings. Let us urge science to look further into this hidden phenomenon.

rivers
papoose
crossbows

Tad Cummins
Elizabeth Thomas
A beautiful ****** odyssey

We need to re-think our rights of ****** privacy and society's ****** witchcraft.


We need to re-think our ri

Watch how the sun will  slowly sketch it
in charcoal, then lay on colors, then give full body
to what, a few minutes ago, was
the thinnest apparition...

One time I dreamed Aphrodite rose from the sea...
All naked and glistening was she...
"Why all the clothes?" she asked of me. "This earth and sea are made for the free."
So I shed my shirt and trunks and into the waters blue I sunk...
Then felt an arm embrace my waist as she led me o'er the dunes in haste...
Toward an island of leafy trees and greenery where naked men and women frolicked through the scenery...
A land without cries of war...
Just a lovely waterfall's roar...
Quickly she took both my hands and we danced to nature's gentle band...
The merry breezes whistled and birds were brightly singing...
Yes, one time I dreamed Aphrodite rose from the sea and showed me in naked splendor how to be free!

In this world where some people
have turned their backs on beauty,
on the right to human dignity,
on the very breath of life itself,
there are men and women of peace and vision
who exhort us to hear the music of the spheres,
to feel true heavenly light
in the renewal of Earth's daily light,
to sense divinity in the mysterious darkness
upon us every night,
the moon above a guiding light.

The people who stand deaf and blind
to the destruction they rain,
unaware it shall backfire
on their own kind--
to them a message:

smell the flowers
walk the shores
undress beautiful women
fill your hearts with humbling sights
read the ancient poets
take a deep breath for the gift of life
STOP THE KILLINGS

We send messages as bombs
We're the new terrorists of the moment
What horrors might this foment?

Under a tree while
sun burns as on primal day
shadows dance with wind.

Menopausal women gather under the tall elms
in a green sward of cooling breezes
Nearby the rushing river is so a-tonally melodic now
As they forgive their ignorances, their mistakes
Their dilatory dreams, their half-steps that backlashed

Their quenchless unseen fire now
the consoling measure of their days
of their secret songs
knowing for those who need,
nothing dies

Obama struttin' with
some barbecue?

Ain't nobody's business
if he do!

a seashore sight of
rapt delight is when you think
you spot a mermaid
pretty and slinky with smiles
lounging there in lapping tides

Quaalude Bill I'm called
'cause to many hot ladies
I slipped a pill or two
then each lady
I shamelessly balled

I loved every one of them
in my own way
but deeply regret how
I went off the track
with my mad zest
for ***** crack

Oh, they did flash  me a bit
egged me on
but that's no excuse
for my despicable ruse

I don't ask the ladies' forgiveness
What's done is done
I rub my tired eyes and try to calm
my uncalm  heart, ask
might we not walk a little again
under the ancient blessings of the healing sun?

Yes, Freddie Gray, now it's the clock, the clock
Justice will come with the ticking of the clock
Soon full justice for those deadly hard knocks

Even at 5 years he was haunted by a restless beat
that fused into a narrative
that went fetching for words to rhyme
to make complete

His voice a kind of squeaky twang
that leveled into low and high registers
he couldn't seem to tame
much to his parents' shame

He'd stalk about the trees in his backyard in Duluth
like an urchin on a mission
hugging his inventive rhythms to himself
and exulting in their satisfactions

Choiring sometimes with the mourning doves
he thought made a beautiful rendition
his blowing sweetly his imaginary harp
while other birds joined in with very few flubs

though often he'd roll in late for supper

passionately red
held by its mother the twig
its father the tree

Charlie's hat
Do you know where it's at?

Where did it go?

Is it bobbing in the middle of the ocean
in limbo?
Or smashed down on the curls
of a naughty *****?

Some people say a greedy Joe
bought it at auction.
Others say it must be in a museum somewhere-
common fate for a relic of silent film fare.

Charlie's hat
Where did it go?
Do you know where it's at?

Why where it's always been at!
On the top of his head
and will sit there eternally, at that,
along with his winsome walk
and heartfelt smile!

So for all those feeling low and blue
beckon him to doff it at you
for a great laugh or two ...
or three...
or four...
or more!

buttered noodles O stay hot you quickly cooling wrigglies!
and you, naked geisha
sing me to sleep-
but disobey your decorous caresses

i am walking towards sunset and gower in hollywood, california

an aged man tap dances for me in the echoing garage of a foreclosure

a bug is sleeping between the quick and the dead when a raindrop falls on it, jolting it flamboyantly

a small boy with perfectly combed and pomaded hair, and carrying a briefcase, follows proudly his mother (?) down the sidewalk

a ***'s heavy load is thrown over his other shoulder in a bright spank of sun

a rare yugo parked in the driveway of a duplex, egg splatter drying across taillights and rear window

the crass bebop step of an old ******* nearing the ***** section of the sidewalk newstand

a sudden gust of wind flattening the fur of a standing collie

a silver/gray tourist bus passes slowly, the voice of the driver unintelligibly droning energetically

i open the screen door of roscoe's house of chicken and waffles, and see a vacant table by the window

Whistling away on a morning in May
He lets the kids feed his parrot, Rainbow
Who perched on his shoulder, calls "Yo! Good-Day!"
Drawing a crowd of coin droppers to the quaint show.

Depression? Rainbow helps him attack it.
And ole Bing , great whistler, to inspire him.
From what sad depths pour this sweet sweet racket?
As lips pursed in rhythm drown voices grim!

Now the seasons tease,
Mock predictions, yet still bode
Spring's eternal fire

Careful, the naked woman in the
bathroom mirror stands behind you
as if she has something in her hands
she finds difficult to show you.
Does she want to turn you to yourself?
But what would you find that you
do not want to know?
Or is she about to suggest again
a couple months separation?
That 3-day no speaking moratorium
did neither of you any good.
No, you don't look at yourself
only at her through the mirror.
Careful, do not ask the mystery
of her distant downcast eyes.
Ah, just as you are about to
snap off the lights
to end this little scene
she holds up the busted TROJAN!

comedy
satyriasis
tragedy

She loves to shake her humongus caboose
while she chews with one side of her face
on a plump *** of tobacco...

and spits the juice
at any kindly folk who
dare walk up to this wacko.

Half-sane near the Seine
with my Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum
who lifted her skirts
to give the lie to the Oriental Lie,
I thought it apposite that an insane
clochard stood a speaker's distance
and masticated franc notes like portions
of ****** "pain" while he ogled
the impenetrable ideogram of
The Beast With Two Backs penetrating

such fast moving clouds
as if fleeing my craven
need to poke a stop

a zillion people on one bicycle
is not cutting corners

Her black body in motion
Chromatic vistas giving artistic delights
Hands with palms glowing soft moonlight
Feet with soles glowing same soft light
Black body in motion
Beautifully twirling
And so forthright!