On a Saturday morning
I write,
as rain outside cleanses earth.
While rain feeds plants hungry
As rain calls all to umbrellas
And while eyes swell
to let me know a poem is gelling
to be released.

On a Saturday morning
I write,
as a bathroom run is ignored.
While my hunger has to wait.
As the moments melt away.
And while my fingers dance
on keyboard making way
to birth a poem.

a moon
on dusk
flattery would
sprinkle Saturday
to swing
in the
auto tunes
and flash
the songs
heard with
ear and
capture her
rhythm with
the exposé
surreptitious in
a wager
of synergy

demons and angels.
horns and halos.
wings and wings.
even the pharaoh,
born with Plato,
sings and sings:

“I long for heaven
as well as hell.”

these aren’t just sevens,
they’re eights as well.
the time will tell.

—————————————

o’, thank the stars for darkness,
thank the lord for ghouls and goblins,
thanking god for satan’s roar?

playing the cards of hearts
to flash in clubs with diamonds,
save the spades and maybe score?

what more is said
for parity?

win the best and lose some more
for charity?

nevertheless and neverthemore
the wrongs go right
for parody?

enter a death
to save a life,
and lose the mind
to get to therapy?

nothing is left for days
and nights bereft,
we fuss and fight
for clarity.

nothing is left for days
and nights bereft,
we fuss and fight
for clarity.

Snowy white Saturday morning.
All is calm and peaceful.
As the big flakes of snow drift down,
They give the ground a big blanket
Everything is so peaceful

Despite the stillness of the world,
Thoughts, still, destroy everything tranquil.
Minds filled with terrible thoughts,
Ideas that demolish all things good.

The snow falls white on the earth.
Blood spills from tired veins,
Turning crisp white snow to a ****** mess.
Red hot blood thaws the frozen snow-covered earth.

Sleeping peacefully, covered by the snowy blanket,
No more thoughts, no more ideas.
A final breath on a
Snowy white Saturday morning.