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  Jul 2020 pitch black god8
sir humbug
degree of overcast

so the day begins
and so will reman,
the week predicted
the same, only one
variant, degree of cloudy,
mostly, partly or just...

it saddens me deeply for
I contemplate all the lives
with this whether forecast,
or rather,
the absence of
the only variant,
the degree of overcast

9:34 AM
Fri Jul 17
Year of the Covid
  Jul 2020 pitch black god8
no fame, no claim, no name

who shall we say is calling?

I am a man of
no fame, no claim, no name,
an average sinner, absent glory

a few seconds of rustling bustle.

did you ever write poetry?

once. but everything of earthly substance,
destined to fade into the ignominy of forgotten
vaults, where time takes it time and erodes all
into dust.

here, every word preserved. there is no time
in the dominion of creators, and you are friend
are numbered in their midst, enshrined in many
hearts and eyes, and with every reading, each
reimagination, you are a reincarnated being
pitch black god8 Jul 2020
“leave ‘em laughing when you go”^

it appears that Ogden Poet and Joni Songster
have ganged up
on poor Pitch Black
to remind
that he who laughs best,
is he who laugh hardest
at himself,
and their vanity fair

the bathroom mirror chips in
with a
chiding chortle,
spasming him so hard,
mirror cracks!
right about where
the smiling mouth
and laughing rolling tears intersect,
under the nose,
landing in an open braying mouth

“Laughter is the corrective force which
prevents us from becoming cranks”

just a most excellent reminder that
gods come and go,
taste in deities is
just another fashion item

keep your admiration in check!
the people you praise
still put their pants on
one leg at a time...
And I suppose these are hardly poetry
More mad man ramblings
With no rhyme or reason
Asked who inspires me
I could’ve said Bukowski, Poe, or even Dickens I suppose
Yet, I listed the Jamadhi’s and Nat Lipstadt
All the way to the Edmund Black’s
Even the ever infamous DelleFemine
Who I usually disagree with
Yet, they are true poets
Who’s words demand to be read
How I aspire to stand amongst you
Tall and brave
For you are the poets of my world
And I hope you’ll be immortalized
Sitting godly with words filling all the spaces inbetween
There are so many more I could’ve listed and I hope those too shall live on forever
dinner Greenport-side, watching the shuffling ferries do
their sworn duty, a back ‘n forth wearisome toll,
while we sip a rose and a PBR, respectively and with respect

no enthusiasm afterward for anything but an early off to bed,
and slip into pj’s asap

me in my knackered wholly Hanes fundie knickers,
no thinking required
but she
retires, re-attires in a summery combo,
a gray sweat t-shirt and green and white
plaid pj pants

which she is unawares are my favorites
cause they lop off fifty years,
a teenage woman re-incarnate recreated
cause her figure now womanly full,
better than then

morning awake l, a disturbance of the peace,
recall a snuggling a wake up hug,
and her bottoms conspicuously
gone missing

over break fast I inquire
over yogurt and berries and a
smoked mozzarella omelette,
what happened to those plaid bottoms?
assuming I was innocent of any transgressions
as best I could recall

with a sheepish childlike grin,
that made look like she was twenty again,
to match the now yoga toned body,
she confesses:

forgot to tie the bowstrings
and they slipped down to my ankles

blessed and cursed I thought!

too much of a gentleman to take advantage,
AND my situational awareness was slipping badly,
but when a poem comes across,
ready and pre-writ,
I’m still young enough to grab aholt of it

and never let go

 (1320 ~ 1389)

The tide of my love
Has risen so high let me flood over


Close your eyes for a moment
And maybe all your fears and fantasies

Will end.

If that happened
God would become an infant in your


And then you
Would have to nurse all


(20th - 21st century)

the floodplain of my love
has spread so wide encompassing all of


Opened your eyes forever
And every prayer and wish uttered see

true realized.

Since this is inevitable
God, our parent, will have raised us well,

each ever cherished.

And then you and I
obligated to write His song, name it

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