In a year, three hundred and sixty-five days
Who came up with all of these things?
Now nobody asks but doing what it says
Following all the weird rituals it brings.

Christmas day falls on the twenty-fifth of December
How do we certainly know that this is accurate?
Nobody cares how this made its way to the calendar
Maybe we doubt, maybe not, all we care is to celebrate.


IB-Poetry©️
3/2/2018

A dashing horse
is always one step
ahead
of the rolling dust

In the Year of the Horse
one ought to make
365
hoofbeats

It’s been three years
But your birthday is still programmed into my calendar
And even now I have to fight back the urge
To text you and say
Happy Birthday
and
I hope you’ve been doing good
and
How are your family?
It’s been a while, are you still you?
- I wonder why you’ve been avoiding me for so long -
If there is a crime I could have committed that I forgot but you never will,
And I don’t want to be friends again:
We are both too far adrift from the familiar shore that had bonded us in the first place,
But it goes against my nature to leave this stone unturned,
and I have seen you turn your nose up, turn tail on sight of me,
Like I am a disease you could catch just by saying hello,
As if you have never been part of my life before,
And I am baffled every time just the same as I was the first day you decided we were both finished with the other,
But somehow,
through it all I have kept a reminder of you in my calendar,
Three years later, worlds apart,
Even now I type out the message,
Imagine pressing send,
Knowing full well that you wouldn’t respond - if you read it in the first place,
So I don’t.
I delete every word and send them out into the universe;
Tonight, this one is for you.
Happy Birthday, G, and many happy returns.

Here's the hint I've been asking for,
of a top secret event and more.
Speculations were all over the net.
Maybe some of people even bet
about all the possibilities
and how about the probability
of a calendar or video shooting.
The album cover would also be suiting.

But here comes the little hint,
of some photographic print.
Looking elegant in every tux,
like a model of Grand Deluxe.
The bomber jacket, coats and shirts.
Oh dear, not forgetting those two birds,
on a body smooth like a baby's ****.
Oh what did he do, our Captain of Pop?

who needs to learn
to wrap the tides
while the fisherman
cast the net of fire
from the darkest seabed
locked the doors of events
to keep an ancient calendar
still glowing on it's eyes
but within the time
the firts cry came
the lips of the ocean
became reluctant to return
for us to be afraid
to saw the wraith

of the fish

Why are babies aged by the month?
Oh Jimmy is 14 months
And Oh Sally is 22 months old now
And blah blah blah

And once we reach the terrible two's
Our ages are so important that we now broadcast them in half years.
How old are you Jimmy...Beaming, he declares "I'm 6 & 1/2 Yrs Old!"
How old are you Sally...Shyly smiling she boasts "I'm 7 & 1/2 Yrs Old!"

I think by the time I reached 9 yrs old,
I felt it was no longer cool to announce my age in half years
How old are you Jimmy...In a yodeling  & cracking voice he replies "I'm 14"
How old are you Sally...."I just turned 18"...Well hot **** your all growd up!

14 months and 22 months are still 1 year old in my book.
But the 14th month old crawls and the 22 month old walks
6-1/2 is still only six but when we're young we are always in a rush to be an adult.
And in our teenage years we become "know it all's", but not really.

Ever heard "Yeahs she's 10 going on 21 yrs old."
Next time you open your eyes she's off to college.
14 year old Boys dreaming of four spinnin' wheels
And now he's driving the baby home from the hospital.

Time has a wonderful way of showing us what really matters.
Time is free but you can never get it back.
So slow the hell down and enjoy your life, your wife, your girl friend, your boy friend or your significant other, your kids, your grand kids,  your family and your Friends!

I am May
home to fey
orchard ermine,
pear leaf blister,
rhomboid tortrix,
light emerald,
lackey, vapourer,
fruitlet mining tortrix,
small eggar and lappet
folded wings are
doors attracted to light

collect my fragrant
white flowers,
red fruits
and bathe
in fleshdecay
to fold into lovemake
give birth
avoid my blades

I always ask blood
of the careless

I will always ask
of you
what you do not wish to give