Science
Has become
A new
Religion
Of our age
We read
Pill bottles
Like
The Bible
Chemistry
Is the new
God
Explaining
Love
Life
Death
If a priest told you to stop eating meat, would you do it?
If a doctor told you to stop eating meat, would you do it?
Religion or Science
Dogmas exist

when the poems don't come,
where do they go?

silly notion,
what's the commotion...
don't they just wait,
gestate,
till the time is right,
till one fires the starter's pistol,
they come when they come,
right?

no.

poems are journeymen,
cover bands,
looking for work steady,
airborne, breeze borne, atmospheric,
looking for a ready, willing & able
host and hostess

a recognizer of their properties,
willing to offer themselves up,
by adding the final touch
to a project that has
its deadline passed,
needy for a Caesar,
cut it out,
to come and get it

are you willing to add
your name to it,
cutting its chord,
let it pass from the airs of heaven
down the stairs
to an earthly audience?

are you willing to own it?

Euphony* * the quality of being pleasing to the ear, especially through a harmonious combination of words; making a phonetic change for ease of pronunciation

Hickory, dickory, dock,
The mouse ran up the clock.
The clock struck one,
The mouse ran down,
Hickory, dickory, dock

Trickery, diddly, rot,
This Diddy's life poems rhymed not,
The boys and girls all booed,
Your poetic life thumbs-down *******,
Trickery, diddly, rot

sipped his morning coffee.
thoughts about mortality and mean
saw what wanted not to be, the unseen,
trickery, diddly, rot,
brain refrain, relief not,
the **** clock ticking,
the mouse laughing,
at his euphonious nonsense

he wept for being found out,
the noises in the house
joined in
all mocking with accusations
you phony, us,
you, phony us*


another work day ended as it begun,
or began to end
teach felt
herself
for felt
tipped pen reach,
inky dinky in the dockers it  flowed,
now I am red-tro-graded,
bold letter, no fading,
F
for failing
to phony us

slipped his head under the water,
but the words auditory
and most un laudatory
feared not a drownery,
followed him down
under

For Helen
who wrote it first,
who wrote it better,
and in doing so,
makes me see more clearly
the why

~~~~~~~~~

no poem should ever be untitled
every face needs a name
every poem needs just
one read for completion,
but more than that, it is
a orphan still, deserving of,
due the
entitlement to be titled,
a parenting of sorts

what was the thought that born it
what was the emotion that conceived it
what was the sight that demanded sharing

this is the age of summary and synthesis,
140 and not one more,
so give direction, enable me to make
snap judgements, with so much on my plate,
we must predigest your concepts,
my multi-tasking slowed to levels unacceptable,
so I can adjudge you,
you worker poet,
before or never reading
after all,
why read anything untitled

more than this however,
for the few who chew
each morseled vowel,
ken each constant consonant,
celebrate stanzas that halt the breathing
and then,
god bless the whole child,
flaws and all,
they more than anyone deserve
your consideration in return

for the title is the essence spark
of you
and all the more so
of what you have  chosen *to share
of your essentials