Time flies like a baby fruit fly to a banana
buzzing through a brand new day through the fractal lakes
cleansing my body in peppermint amethyst vibrations
as the gyrations of the water ripple and drip down my back and waist
tickling the skin into submission--
I'm on a love mission feeling the splish-splash nefelibata mind
within my glowing gold-hazel eyes as I realize my potential.
The world isn't simply my oyster
my voice can make a difference
if I wish and believe me I've kissed Aladdin's lamp
but my mind is filled with vagary so I plant the seeds
in my magic garden and watch them grow--
burst through the ground and glowing
some like emerald embers
and others like electric chalcopyrite
as my third-eye shines and pops calico corn
crackling in the back the ideas simmer on the grill
near the chilled ZuZu Juju honeydew wine
while the electric blue hip panther cat croons
away on her guitar in ancient star languages saeng
when we were all just haranguing through the ONE-light
all bright sun's right to shine a vine of fire rays
into our future past selves
now aligned with burning designs of moons, suns and AUMS.
The animal pixie band manipulates the sounds around us--
the cicadas sing a lotus chorus while the tiger-painted rabbits rapidly
strum rainbow hieroglyphs on their magic harps
while the jazz sax racoons all dressed in jasper suede jackets
and backwards newsboy caps
play a theta vibration so meditatively
we dance in digambara dream catcher trance
of enhanced meraki enchanted atoms
and cells boiling in passionate blood.

After all the eating and dancing we play in the clay mud
recreating our animal forms and budding faces blooming
and swooning as our winged auras sling us
into the dusk sky
to sway and zoom in the rain.
later we enter Father Sky's cloud castle
for a peaceful night curled up by the azurite lightning fireplace
roasting marmalade maple marshmallows
with those rasta angel fellows token
on the diviner's sage sippin mugwort tea.
And as we third eye-gaze into and through each other
seeing our past and future time tubes
aligning into a sacred golden flower sphere,
we giggle like silly fox children
we've forgotten hours have left our pockets
cause to us it only seems like seconds have gone by...

Parents are the weirdest - of God's creation.

I mean, who on Earth would desire the responsibility of another human being from the time they **** in their pants to the time they leave saying 'what have you ever done for me?' ?

Who would, of all the things in the world, like their homeroom stuffed with stupid CDs and stuffed racoons, waterguns and Legos, dried acrylics and miniature utensil sets, ugly pyjamas and strange half-knit sweaters?

I need to know why parents don't object to their kids pooping everywhere.
It's either the kids are super cute or the parents are super crazy.
I'm sure it isn't the former.

A certain lack of imaginative faculties, in parents, is evident to me,quite frankly.

Think of it this way- if it weren't for us - kids, our parents would have been carefree playboys and playgirls, and 'living their lives' - cliché.

What weirdos really!

Their standards of children's safety too possess a particular oddity.
It's only the exact moment of physical contact during a hug that our parents feel we're safe.

Their sense of economy and finance is oxymoronic.
They love discounts. But they'll pay extra for whatever their kids wish.

I wonder how they resist TV shows of most sorts just because they won't have their kids watch remotely explicit content, visual or auditory.

I bet their sense of direction is most unnaturally affected too.
Why do they even follow their kids, when they know kids don't have a working GPS?

Do you have any idea, to what lengths parents go to make veggies seem delicious?
Veggies, Really?

Parents will have you take disgusting syrups and painful **** injections,
And claim they love you.

Parents will have you hit the books,
And claim they love you.

Parents will ground you because you do something they don't like (but they too did it when they were kids),
And claim they love you.

Parents will stop you every time you say a swear word (but they swear all the time),
And claim they love you.

Parents will claim they love you,
Maybe, because they really love you.
Oh, their weirdness never ends.

Parents may seem eccentric,
Their ways might seem a bit too bizarre,
Maybe that's how the people who really love us behave!
Yet, we're always rushing away from them.

If you have ever traveled in a bus, you'll know how absurdly keen the passengers are, to get off, when it stops.
That's how keen the kids are, to leave the laps of their mothers, quite literally the most comfortable place in the world.

Parents really are - the weirdest of God's creation.
And the loveliest too.

Being blonde is overrated,

but I dye my hair anyways.

Dark eyeliner transforms girls into racoons,

but I pencil it on everyday.

A big chest is a man's dream,

but my ***** makes up for it.

Scarves should only be worn during winter,

but I sport them year round.

Nail polish is a girl's best friend,

but we have a love/hate relationship.

Thongs are the sexiest undergarments,

but boy shorts are so much more comfortable.

It is a fashion sin to wear black and blue together,

but those colors shouldn't only signify bruises.

Wearing heels all the time means you're a *****,

Guess I'm the biggest ***** of all then.

Who cares what is in or out?

Break the norms

And just be you

Because I am me, and that's all I ever want to be.

I shutter in the nights moon.
I hide my self way before noon.
I fear, I fear, night will drift me away.
Moon! I gasp! Do you see me,
turn your judging face from me.
I shutter in the moons glow.
I fear! Which way should I go.
I see the morn only in my mind.
Its solemnly burrow within the trees
like a spy. Yet the cannot escape
my keen eye.
Day light!  Blasted day light!
Sneeks its glow upon me.
Yet,  comforts like a blanket!
But though I shutter in the moon light
And yet, I welcome a  
pleasantly new days sun,
Woot! Whoo! Comes my weak calls.
For by days sun I hunger no more.
I just peck lustfully blood from my
fluttering feathers, of nights telltale gore.
I am just a hungry owl,
Whoot!  Whoot! I cry.  
My beak shutters to softly croon
My calls fierce, again in nights moon,
Alass!  Shouts of fear from the mice.
from chipmunks from the baby racoons.
Hide! Hide! Hide!
For I will stalk you in the night.
You shall be my dinner before
day light.
Comes now too, my endless fear.
I float over fierce brown deer
Its mighty weight, yet, of me
it does not flinch,
Yes, even with my nightly, whoot!
Whoot! Over it  my eyes gauntlet glare
It just looks me over as if I am not there.
I flutter full, to appear stronger, but though
I am mighty to the new birthed young,
I am desolate to the ones more than I, so strong.
Whoot! Whoot! Whoot! I cry out.
I cry strong and brave,.
Yet, not a small beast does not fear as it
shows its self to me
They scamper, Ha! Ha! I laugh.  
Do they not realize their tiny legs will
not free them from my swooping outcome.
I swop, Ha! Ha! Silently I am upon them.
I since their heart beats like a drum.
Soon it is over. Their will is no more, but mine.
As I perch way up in this tree
Shutter I do of beasts, but so do they.
For in the woods all too is fair play
For that is nature's contract
guaranteed, to all forest prey.

All night I head inside rain water.
Getting back the women I failed.
My heavy jacket feels like stray cats.
Then A garbage can upon the street.
Becomes some other racoons ocean dream.
He opens the door in ring tailed underwear.
And forgets about the skunk waiting
Under the bushes ontop of spongy beardes of moss.
The business isnt worth the trouble
For me against the passion to find
Another way inside a house of plastic
Bins.
But mine is wooden and strong and Ill be able
To dry my arms and go another day
Of traveling through the pools
Of open water.
And singing here comes the rain again.
Let it fall again and forever until the streets
Dry in clouds of ambitious steam.

Tonight in yoga
While we take corpse pose
And are supposed to empty our bodies and minds
The teacher says:
Listen to the tide of your breath

I think of the beach
The color of mist
And the time I found a
Dead sea otter
As long as myself
And still beautiful

When I open my eyes the walls
Are saffron
And the ceiling is burnt orange

I think of the monks
In the art museum
Who swept their hands
Through a sand medallion
And then released the remains
Into a lake with lilly pads

And when I look out the screen door
I see a racoon, climbing down
After plundering eggs

And I think of the cabin
Where the racoons would eat
The dog food at night
And my brother and I
In footed pajamas
Would hold flashlights and watch them

And as we close shavasana
And sit up
I realize I am the least empty
The least dead
The most beautiful corpse

Out of Liquor
and out of time.
It's 2 AM on
someday
thats not a
saturday.

Outside my window
racoons climb through
the fig tree feasting
like untamed
royalty on
the heavy hanging
fruit.

I rifle through
the cabinets
in search of a
bottle.
The cabinets are
bare and I know
this,
but the madness
says there's more.

There's a deep
red stain on
the scuffed and
peeling linoleum floor.
It's as red as
that flapping flag
of anarchy.
It's blood and
I know it
but I choose to
ignore it.

The bars have
all closed and I can
hear my neighbor
has brought the
party home
next door.

I despise the sun
but times like
these I beg the
Gods for it's
arrival.
For with the
awakening of
another day
brings the opening of the
liquor store
and my continuance
in the way of the
hardened soul.

My mornings began
just as empty as
my bottles
from the night before
and I see no
real reason to
stop it all
now.

liked in my hole, liked like garbage
the racoons, the rabbits
looking in
singing my praises
can we all just get along inside
if my heart were still alive?

The games
The small-fry
Ketchup she squirt's

Talking heads
sugar on my
miniature flirt
tongue

Burger bands

Gimme_ Gimme
((Mini Macaroons))
Don't big change me
My eyes like
((Rocky Racoons))

Movie Mania
Beatles miniature
I want to hold
your hand
Lucy in the sky
No chip diamonds
Cool Hand Luke

American girl doll
Exchange for
my red bike
Twilight zone
dimension I_
Cannot read
the numbers!!!

I-phone oranges
compared to
small apples
That's me
Mini Cooper
Car drinking Snapple

The shooting
star
Just gas up
  V-Wagon
mini car

(Mini Bow)
ladybug
kissed her
Coffee mug
The red and
black dots
treat her
like a lady
Small bits of aroma

The smaller sticky
yellow
notes what votes
Mini-me camera
Mini hot_  Hollywood
dog dachshund
*    *    *    
It's mini
mealtime__

Adorable
Presentable
The Dollhouse
lodge Mini
Disneyland_*
No copying to
resemble

Mini Fruit
salad merger
Red Robin's Burger
were overly generous
Mr. Big
imaginable
so small
Superman's
flight of rage
So-Huge_ and long_
turned him if I only
had a brain
((The Tinman))
mentally touched him
Sprayed his oil can
in mini heart size

Hello Dollie
collector
magnifying glass
Handcrafted
Pleasurable kind
and small
Broomstick
Witchcraft

Miniature leader
Knock on
heavens door

The Doorman
The Penthouse
Mini Bavarian
creme
Me doughnut

The cool breeze
off her fan
Big thumb
((Thumbelina))
The mini frog
Hit too many
London fogs

Mini White castle
burger  chips off the
miniature block party
Meat tenderizer like trolls

Las Vegas
money slot machines
Those miniature dolls

((Minerals Top Ranks))

Gemology
produce
more blues
******
Adolf ******
generals
Cereal boxes
Sly Foxes Attention
How her
features met
his smaller
side_
Royal hot blues singer
Mini He pops dishes
All Banana nut's
When it
comes to
Monkeying
around

With_?
miniature swingers
cereal_

the silent of the night, is so serene
in this cold stillness, flue vapors
tickle the darkness, trails disappear

mounds of snow, piled high
slowly melt from underneath
waiting for the daylight sun
help to nourish the frozen ground

occasionaly, racoons, nights burgulars
slueth silently, scrounging for scraps
naked trees branches, fingers reach
sun's rays flex them in the breeze

patchwork of inkling green and brown
amongst the receding white
dusk of winter, slowly fades
gives way to spring, rebirth

What was that. A knock?
Sssh!
Listen.
I heard something.
Was it the wind, scratching across my pane?
The pine tree branch thumps its fingers.
Squirrels, racoons and mice scurry over my roof.
My porch light is a beacon of revelation.
The doors are locked against friend or others.
I will wait.
Fall asleep.
Dream.
A hut on an island in the blue,
No ghostly memories.