Take nothing for granted, little kids,
It was library day for our kids,
Lateral epic lit. for the kids,
(The kids' librarian was off her ****),
Reading new wave kids' lit.,
Such as "Paddington was ******",
Then there was a new book for tots,
Titled "RIP Spot",
And an epic for libraries to fill,
Called, "Bye, Bye, Blinky Bill."....

Now it's story time for tots,
Here's our new one, "RIP Spot',
(Lift the *****, there's the chaps),
RIP Spot, the street dog,
We dehydrated Spot,
(Life the *****, there's the chaps),
Froth, Spot, Froth,
Yes, read along, tots,

Read along, little tots,
We all starved Spot,
He was a street dog,
(Lift the *****, there's good chaps),
Rot, Spot, Rot,
Now we can count his ribs, dear little kids,
(Lift the *****, there's the chaps),
Happy maggots, Spot,
Spot is mort, poor Spot,
He was a street dog,
(Lift the *****, there's the chaps),
Mort, Spot, Mort,
Now Spot's on his way to Heaven,
His ribs were more than seven,
(Lift the *****, there's the chaps),
Have some flies, Spot,
Rot, Spot, rot,
They opened up the Pearly Gates,
Poor Spot wasn't too late,
(Lift the *****, there's the chaps),
Look at Spot's halo,
There's two more books to go,
Spot has sent us a card down here,
"F.U., Society, you didn't care,"
(Lift the *****, there's the chaps),
Rot, Spot, Rot,
You were a street dog,

Ooh, are you all sad?
Two more books in this bag,
Here's "Paddington was ******",
(The kids' librarian is off her ****),
We'll all read along  now, kids,
Paddington was ******,
The tots were, by now, totally miffed,
He was their childhood hero,
Now a drunken old dero,
Rolling around in the gutter,
An alcoholic ******,
Society didn't care,
He was only a homeless bear,
Now the tots are totally miffed,
Paddington was ******....

Now, here's our last epic book,
This one's worth a look,
"Bye, Bye, Blinky Bill,
His mother forgot the pill,
Perched on a tree up the hill,
Blinky Bill ran under a bus,
****** on Eucalyptus,
His mother forgot the pill,
So, Bye, Bye, Blinky Bill.

We took nothing for granted, let's say,
Kids' librarian got the sack that day!

Here.you can have this one easy, I wont struggle i wont even look.Here you can sharpen your pencil and jot me down in the book.Here....... cant spell CAT less I give C and T to U. And you think creation bubbles and boils in you. Sad sack of !!!. .....When I wanted my turn? oh no, you were way to busy reading tea leaves, mumbling mantras,consulting the zodiac Now you want me to rub your head and tuck you in bed,pull your blanky chin high and then tuck it, Hmm, too easy.

Verses with curses, you call that a  poem ?
Here. right here between the C and the T. good boy.          Now. Shall we begin the beguine.

                                                                                                  There once was a man from Belize  
                                                                                                  Who was stung by the poetry bees.
                                                                                                  
                                                                                                  He read books to distraction
                                                                                                  But couldn't get traction
                                                                                                  less I pushed for action
                                                                                                  To clear up his  those from his these..Duh
So Here. go visit Nantucket. Dont forget to take a bucket !!!.
Next stop Limerick.                                                                Here we go again. Next time I crawl back
                                                                                                 try to at least offer me chair. A " hey dude it's
                                                                                                 good to see you" or I swear I'm off again like a                                
                                                                                                 ***** shirt. Just you and that keyboard and                        
                                                                                                 blinky the cursor.Blink, blink, blink................
There.I finally got that unchested.
Feel so much better now, so Here take a letter now.

Here you can have this one easy.

with flowers for the moonlight
the fright she bid goodbye
stars and leonids sparkled the night
like a wino in the midst with acquired dreams
I audit this blinky blue eyed sunrise
the two little satellites melted away
musical notes insured by a common man
harvested by the embraceable grim reaper
in this bizarre love pentangle
they arrive with their swarm of locusts
the thieves of silence!!

Pac-man is like
                                                  nom nom nom
                                         nom nom nom nom nom
                                nom nom nom nom nom nom nom
                       nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom
                       nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom          
                       nom           Inky            Blinky                          nom                   Pinky              C­lyde                
                       nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom
                       nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom
                                nom nom nom nom nom nom nom
                                         nom nom nom nom nom
                                                  nom nom nom

Oopy Doopy, Super Sloopy.
Loopy snoopy, pants apoopy.
Lippy hippy, slippy dippy.
Nasty-nicey, normally snippy.

Loosey goosey, chocolate moussey.
Usually *** goofy as Gary Busey.
Hinky-stinky presidential *****.
Winky-blinky, dangerously stinko.

Hippity hoppy, flippy-floppy
Get a mop, it never stops.
Laughy gaffe-y, riffy-raffy
Face as gross as rotten taffy.

Whammy-bammy, scary scammy
Mammy-jamming Uncle Sammy.
Lumpy-dumpy, far from humpy
******* up future jumpy bumpy.

Glossy boss, a frightful loss
Ungathered moss at twice the cost.
Serious gap while the country naps
****** sap giving us a slap.

Frightening nooses tightening,
Rights denied like summer lightning.
Ignoring Popes and Snopes
Hopeless dopes put us on the ropes.

Immune to our cries, elected guys
Make horrifying decisions most unwise.
Like black magic before all our eyes
We’re leaderless as freedom dies.

In a world of concrete
and televisions
there is no room
for love and liberty
only hyperspeed delusions

Screens project illusions
colorful and negative
******, ****, war
pure destruction
revolution

Communication boxes
with buttons and blinky lights
musical tones to let you know
that your mother says hello
her voice and face is not enough

Letters are overated
conversations are useless
chivalry is ridiculous
and a smile is anything
but friendly

Neighbors are irritating
too much or too little
of this
that
or the other thing

Knowledge is power
accessible, unclear and confusing
nothing makes any sense
everyone is stupid
but everyone knows everything

Convenience
is inconvenient
never good enough
fast enough
or affordable

There's internet
for computers, tv and cell phones
books in every format
knowledge through every source
but it's all lies, right?

No one knows the truth
no one can believe it
everything is a lie
and everyone is trapped
between televisions and concrete

Nature is forgotten
or locked in fences
near park benches
trimmed and controlled
to particuliarities

Consummables are consumed
without recognition
of the quantity
or lack thereof
until there is nothing left.

Used and abused
people and animals
plants and minerals
oxygen and gas
depleted, destroyed, enslaved

There is no room
for love and liberty
in a world ruled
by delusions
created from concrete and televisions

Bedtime, little moonbeam.
See the stars? They're sleepy, too—
all blinky-eyed and snuggled in
like you need to do;

but the very, very moment
that you drift off into slumber,
the whole world sighs and smiles
at you, its dreaming little wonder,

and the bunnies in their hutches
and the sparrows in their nests,
they sleep, too, my little moon,
all fuzzy, warm and blessed

to have spent another perfect day
with a perfect girl like you.
Now tomorrow waits to meet you,
and I'll be waiting, too.

The day's inertia grips an old, cold body.
Too dangerous to doze while ice melts.
Early morning commotion at the brain station.
An unnamed bird tweets but lacks followers.
Gesticulation of unknown parts. Shake the
waking brain: dissolve the haze of logic.
A Day Of Decision: to shave or not to shave.
Curse all the rules you learned in schools.
The difficulty of simultaneously breaking out
and in. White boys with hoodie-heads clearly
ignorant of color wheels. Each word waffle
in the mind meaning means. This craft makes
crazy but air and fire clarify these lines.
Poets voluntary outlaws in American eyes.
Who needs shrink wrapped verses? You are
implicated in whatever you choose to read.
Do not interrupt and demand exegesis;
we do not deal in scripture or litany;
you may only get the interpretation of wolves.
Only this blinky moment of alphabet unites us.
You are changed by this reading
if you get my memeing or not.
Armageddon is your beard to scratch. Have at it.

Gone are the days,
Of disobedience and innocence.
Gone are the days of, an-
Instrumental violence.

  Morning to the silky soul,
And to the shadowing shades of impermanence.
Morning to the dewy doses,
Of painting all accidents.

Long out to the zenith,
Of red bridges, and bluish seas,
Like a rolling stone troubled all alone,
To Bleed a maze of moss and broken violins.

But a mundane mourning for the silky soul,
And there are,
Some adjectives to condole.

These parts of an analogous appearance,
And moving along with,
some blessed rings of smoke,
A glassy, grassy stairway to the Vincent skies,
To the blinky stars, and stormy tales,
Moving alone,
But All alone, with fairy grooves and blooming dales!

What have you been seeing,
You poor disgusted being.

By the road,
below stale black cloud.

On the wall,
busy people.

with blinky little gape.
waiting...
for spare scrape.

not mine, it is hers
and she is gone now.

She took me in
I took care of her and she taught
me how to love unconditionally.

Now in her chair I sit sad and uncomfortable.
Around me surrounds a heavy air.
A memory of our last saying,
I love you.

I made a promise to her, on her dying day,
to take care of RJ and Wally ,
Miss kitty, Mandy, Trouble, Blinky, Inky, Nod,
and two more grey kittys.

I will try, Marge. With all my heart.

I know they miss you.

But, not half as much as I do.

my assassin hisses from behind his curtain
there's nobody here
with a stand up comic's grin
so he turned to practical jokes
got the gods tumbling spire over minaret
suffering a vigorously impious scorn
the pit bull lobby eventually had him banned
for making life into a pastoral meadow
but reposeful bliss eluded him
instead an agitated bliss on all his channels
being it was a game of hobbled feet
marrying truth to insanity
and created a race of juggling pundits
ringing like temple gongs
inherently bourgeois anarchist epicureans
wanting what is best is not always pretty
but nothing padded his gaze
observe the scale and the detail
the ruling class toiling all night
gave us minds and wills and forgetfulness
arise from the dead said the angel Mr. Blinky
kiss my sassafras *** said Billy Nitro
Scamper his Mongolian chihuahua
barking and snapping in emphasis
the times of laughter are over
he decanted in all silliness
so **** it laugh anyway
this is a limited time offer
you've read this you can't unread it
but what choice did I have
chronically coming up empty handed
flapping in the wind and no ******
vast and complex was Blinky's hypothermia
from deep within the Putumayo
a million chimeras cried for blood
the lava flowed round Pele's feet
upscale and chic descended to shopping cart
as the armless Venus glided towards him
fresh from a dump in a highway pay toilet
all love and germs in a clueless crescendo
freed him from omen slavery
Pol Potted the world of its many *******
Venus pulled him close
her hot breath made his hairs dance
she exhaled softly
you don't have to scream
to keep yourself awake
she could read a phoneme
like the moon in the river
as they pronounced us man and woman
their chief hipster said crazy man crazy
you are a freak like us
act accordingly

From "Pageant of Naked Mischief" available on Amazon

"What can I say"
said the wind to no man
it just is and has to be
like fires on the beach
with cool family you found
under a jar of blinky gravity
systematically tearing at our reality
supersymetrically
super intentionally
wheeling grace, the never withers,
slithers through our childhoods
like a puppy you can't help but pet.
knowing that life might be just a smile
on a dead man
an illusion
substitution for what is "supposed" to be?
And the secret to being happy is bared to us
like the perfect answer to a
Cards against Humanity question.
To see the beauty in this perfect clockwork.
we live in
believe in
see in this, human perception is broken we say.
It shouldn't be this way we plead.
We can't see such a thing as our universe.
Not as it truly is.
We have designed simulation sensories
to interact with its perfection,
biologically.
Can you see, what drives us, pushes us,
is the universe!
this multiplicity of energy
the true enigma of the soul
this soul

I was clicking through the Sonogram Network
checking the rear-view to see what's next
it may be reality but is it a necessary reality
where anything out of the ordinary is signal
oh boy another uninvited anomaly
feeding time for my forehead demon
meant I had to go on vowel patrol
because the network was ancient with consonants
and invented malicious contours of meaning
that could be written but not pronounced
knowing that thoughts control other thoughts
if that were a key what lock would it fit
his crime was an addiction to accuracy
saved by measurement time and again
then another accursed round of inner blackmail
and extortion from the catacomb moralists
civilization had gone tiger ******* mad
riding the carousel beast to their doom
leaving the steps of their TV studio ziggurats
slippery with fresh blood and beating hearts
for the contemporary retro-futurists
storming the fortifications of ignorance
with the Sunday horoscope as a map
he threw up his shrugging hands
in collective handcuffed exasperation
sleep with a pistol next to your yarbles
if you want to make a difference
in the modern world paranormal or not
now that daring had devolved to hypochondria
storming the fortifications of ignorance
with the Sunday horoscope as a road map
the ******* had so many hidden agendas
underlying rather than lying per se
making me listen alert to my muse
because her beauty sees through me also
only in a manner I can tolerate
guardian angels scream in my face
all is derived from something else
oh well enough flickers and you have light
the air becomes pearly and serene
an explanation or two never hurts
**** the covert menace go play
rattle cages make the parrots squawk
how many ideologies preach fun
the last thing he said was
no time like the present
as moonlight bore into the earth
and sanity had become a necessity
even if there is no reason
there soon will be

Dusty tile floors,
blinky fluorescent lights,
the serenity prayer,
stapled to the walls,
this place is not home,
how did I end up here?
All alone in the dead of night,
this is John's place,
I don't know who John is,
but I need his help,
somebody's help,
please, dear God, get me,
out of this place!
As I shiver,
and choke down the tears,
sending up my prayers,
into the air,
life is never fair.

i will stealth mob your eagles,
court him blind,
and make him a kafka
toward the libido of the crow,
shadow caste, shadow
usurper, the last remaining
worth of tongue,
be it, the remnant of tongue,
and tree fathomable in
felling..
             mob guise: mob rules...
i alone harvest the shadow
grist: take a picture! then
disappear!
          icon of the unfathomable
perfection in second bound....
blinky my love,
    and take to no second
steweard for a cause of resealse!
as you die,
i dire in the craft of your
lost breath... as i count,
in being my own.
         may i be the tongue tied
allowance of suggested release...
in the scattered
   quake of "thought" -
yours the least absolving truce;
faked magic
              for the most repetroire
of endings reaching
for the lost grin in grimm...
& co., to no unearthed chance
to explain the imbued cranium
in gothica construct...
                best explained.
i have you image,
lost within the reflection,
  of the tears i shed to account
for a puddle's worth of mirror...
i have you image,
lost within the reflection
of your face lost, intact,
inside the mirror of a chemical
mirror of a puddle,
laboured over in the territory
of the jackal joker...
dead concerning laughter:
dead with laughter alone,
with death bound to allow the remnant
of life: with laughter alone,
does man complete his ultimate
despair.
but i have you... my swindling
companion, the sweetest
care to be kind, as that which,
forgave, while being forgotten,
gave way to forgiving:
in latitudes of prison;
may we both, be minded, as mistaken,
and serve out time,
in the servitude of that:
of what can be said - equally shared;
scout's honour... you hear?!

It's no surprise, I got lost
Got lost, right spun in your eyes
Merry go round and the tilt a whirl
Your amusement rides parked this girl

Coulda got through the gates a bit sooner
Spent fewer dollars on games
But your shiny, blinky lights and attractions got me dazed
Now I am lost and totally fazed

Not sure if it was the one that brought me head over heels
Or the one that whipped me right round
But I'm feeling anxious and a little sick since my feet last touched ground

It's no surprise, I got lost
Got lost, right spun in your eyes
Merry go round and the tilt a whirl
Your amusement rides parked this girl

Don't need a new toy or any trinkets,
Nah, I came here just for you
Didn't know it was Buller's day off
I was wheeling for two

It was wrong for me to assume, the *** is just me, I didn't know there was no second cup to this tea party.

It's no surprise, I got lost
Got lost, right spun in your eyes
Merry go round and the tilt a whirl
Your amusement rides parked this girl

REMEMBERING COLERIDGE

"Ok! Can we have..."
my mind shouts

from its directorial chair
megaphone in hand.

"A MIRACLE OF RARE DEVICE
over here!"

BUT OH! THAT DEEP ROMANTIC CHASM
is still in her caravan.

"Ok...cue camera No. 2 &
where...

where are the SUNNY PLEASURE DOMES WITH CAVES OF ICE
can someone please. . .

. . .get the ****** SUNNY PLEASURE DOMES WITH CAVES OF ICE
please!

"We've got a Coleridge
moment

coming up on his next
footstep!"

"Are all you brain cells
following me!"

Memory goes through wardrobe
dressing each thought

in perfect Kubla Khan
costumes.

"Ok...cue footstep 2000 &
waitforitwaitforit....2!"

"Ok people..!" shouts my mind
"...he's going to remember the

Coleridge any second
. .    .nOW!"

"Cut to...OH STILL UNRAVISHED BRIDE OF QUIETNESS!
wot...wot....cut CUT!"

"Ok...who pressed the Keats button!"

And so it is that a Keatsian personified urn
of Greek extraction

finds itself in Xanadu

as I cross the road
and almost get knocked down

by a ****** big No. 69

and a cursing cyclist
in spangled blue latex.

*

What it is like inside my brain as I try to remember the bits and bobs of Coleridge that bob up and down in the stream of my thought as I try to cross a busy road. The mind is more interested in salvaging the lines of the poem rather than coordinating the feet in order to cross the road still in possession of my life. I survived to tell the tale but...only just.

I guess I was remembering the old comic strip THE NUMBSKULLS that tinkled my pink when I was a young fella me lad and both comics and poems jumbled around in that little mind like so much bric-a-brac or emotional flotsam and jetsam. And so the lines like shipwreck sailors get washed up on the shores of my consciousness.

Our "myriad-minded Shakespeare" as Sammy said of Will and could have been said of me in this poem but not as successfully as either Shakespeare or Samuel Taylor Coleridge.

The Numskulls is a comic strip in The Beano, and previously in The Beezer and The Dandy – UK comics owned by D.C Thomson. The strip is about a team of tiny human-like technicians who live inside the heads of various people, running and maintaining their bodies and minds.

The comic strip first appeared in The Beezer in 1962 and was drawn by Malcolm Judge. In this version they lived inside a man's head rather than a boy's head. The man was never named, but the Numskulls referred to him as "our Man". There were six Numskulls during this time. The 'Mouth Department' was home to two Numskulls, named Alf and Fred. Luggy (Radar) looked a lot like Cruncher, Snitch looked like Cruncher as well except Snitch wore orange, Brainy had no glasses and had no hair apart from around his ears and wore black, Blinky looked the same except he was bald and Alf and Fred had two hairs on their head and wore black and yellow.