POETRY HELPS THIS GARDEN VARIETY HI BRED
   TO SUBLIMATE UNMET ****** NEEDS PER ME
WHETHER CASUAL OR INTIMATE -
   WORDS HELP RELEASE ANGST
   FOISTED UP UNWITTING READER
   TO SOW SEED CONNECTION
   PERHAPS EVOLVING INTO
   A PHYSICAL RAPPORT WITH NATURAL X2C.
------------------------------------------------------------­--
    homage to simple pleasures
   like health of body, mind n spirit at base
within fit ethereal, dye ****** corporeal being that doth encase
in tandem with unspoilt terrestrial grace
i decided to share three poetic endeavors
   for a change of pace
images thee can imagine and trace.
----------------------------------------------------------­----
MOTHER NATURE’S SUPREME DISPLAY ™

A strand of pearls clung to slender tree limbs
bejeweled woody flora prismatic orbs
tell tale sign recent cloudburst cleft darkened heavens
rained watery life source liquid
downpour laced branched canopy
awash with molecular droplets
requisite to feed burlesque Vaudeville bluster
exquisite gala performance unrehearsed

unscripted ubiquitous theatrical performance
received limitless encores toward Gaia screenwriter
whose infinite scope
(wrought upon the natural landscape palette)
exceeds the finite abilities of those bipedal *******
human organisms imbued, whose dilettante debut
(dawned these last seconds on clock face of geologic history)
might witness curtain call on their final act.
------------------------------------------------------------­--
MARQUEE MOTIF ™

Neon lights broadcast sold out show of one Matthew Scott
expert stage craft presents quotidian  shows without sound
sole audience  forcibly revisits this biography performance
private owner lifetime supply of entire stock season tickets

(to one smash box office hit after another improvisational)
lightning speed mime hologram flashes life capsule oeuvre
corpus trials and tribulations indelibly recorded upon spool
sibilant auditory oohs and ahs from vindictive ultimatum

only one take each scene despite personal abysmal reviews
and serious consideration to hire professional management
accompanying actor, director, producer, projectionist writer
kept preserved upon cranial medium - so called gray matter

extant within the guarded and private repository Fort Knox
until the eventual disintegration from cumulative memories
become totally obscured with the thickening fogs of old age
and the curtain comes down on the final act upon  mortality!

the rush of the music blaring from the speakers
waves traveling through the air and down my spine
giving me goose bumps as the build of the sound intensifies
feeling it inside me
hold my breath for just a second
releasing into a pure joyous dance
my body in sync with the rhythm of the beat
peace of mind within harmony

this mere mortal frequently feels:
   a. like joost another brick in the wall
   or b. feels comfortably numb while alienated
   in this condemn nation
with the sounds of silence

   written on the virtual subway hall
n wishes he could escape
   (like that eponymous spoon
   running away with the tine e fork)
   2 the dark n far side of the moon
   jumping without Humpty Dumpty fear 2 fall.

joost as an *** side (wit me only intent 2 *** till late)
   let me playfully close this email by readily admitting
   that voluptuous women with plenty of junk in the trunk
   (or 2 employ more outdated term zoftig)
does readily prompt a top notch rating of google times ten

   for those queen of denial big a$$ bot tum gals
   who possess buxom build plus smart n able 2 understand
   how 2 cosign via trig
anyway, for your edification, i wish for nada qua non
   one snarling day vid growl joining me
   in monogamous ****** gig
which latter mental ability

might not in the least matter 2 moost men
unsure if my poetic reply you will find *** abominable bore
   or be prompt an oh bomb in a bull barrack 2 dig
   this common joe just biden his time
but in a nutshell with no intent to be impolite,

   mine eyes (no surprise nor insult meant)
favor gals whose ***** happens
   2 be outlandishly big
   in tandem to the searing roe bust english language,
   which this simian i.e. **** sapiens doth adore.

from::the fool on the hill, who lives along
abbey road near penny lane
across the street. Eleanor rigby, Mister Kite,
the virtual nay burrs o this human grain
plus Norwegian wood, the latter actually a great dane.

postscript:
words my (ahem) pen ultimate live aim
while trying 2 steer clear of reese sieving a wagging
   virtual finger in blame
neither at some fellow nor destitute dame

since chance circumstances of existence akin to being frozen
   in some space/time paradigms frame
attempting to extricate our selves playing lifelong game
which message offer in this poem rather lame.

email moi, which means
   applying cerebral muscles to flex
fire off a brief bull a tin i.e.
   preferably a brief text
    to TRACFONE NUMBER =
215---370--8929

somewhere
deep within
the heap of
habit,

a forest dusk
hum echoing
through ages
and time,

clean as a shroud,
pure as a womb,
await the embers
of a bonfire...