Dosn't thou 'ear my 'erse's legs, as they canters awaay?
Proputty, proputty, proputty--that's what I 'ears 'em saay.
Proputty, proputty, proputty--Sam, thou's an *** for thy paains:
Theer's moor sense i' one o' 'is legs, nor in all thy braains.

Woa--theer's a craw to pluck wi' tha, Sam; yon 's parson's 'ouse--
Dosn't thou knaw that a man mun be eather a man or a mouse?
Time to think on it then; for thou'll be twenty to weeak.
Proputty, proputty--woa then, woa--let ma 'ear mysen speak.

Me an' thy ******, Sammy, 'as been a'talkin' o' thee;
Thou's bean talkin' to ******, an' she bean a tellin' it me.
Thou'll not marry for munny--thou's sweet upo' parson's lass--
Noa--thou 'll marry for luvv--an' we boath of us thinks tha an ***.

Seea'd her todaay goa by--Saaint's-daay--they was ringing the bells.
She's a beauty, thou thinks--an' soa is scoors o' gells,
Them as 'as munny an' all--wot's a beauty?--the flower as blaws.
But proputty, proputty sticks, an' proputty, proputty graws.

Do'ant be stunt; taake time. I knaws what maakes tha sa mad.
Warn't I craazed fur the lasses mysen when I wur a lad?
But I knaw'd a Quaaker feller as often 'as towd ma this:
"Doant thou marry for munny, but goa wheer munny is!"

An' I went wheer munny war; an' thy ****** coom to 'and,
Wi' lots o' munny laaid by, an' a nicetish bit o' land.
Maaybe she warn't a beauty--I niver giv it a thowt--
But warn't she as good to cuddle an' kiss as a lass as 'ant nowt?

Parson's lass 'ant nowt, an' she weant 'a nowt when 'e 's dead,
Mun be a guvness, lad, or summut, and addle her bread.
Why? for 'e 's nobbut a curate, an' weant niver get hissen clear,
An' 'e maade the bed as 'e ligs on afoor 'e coom'd to the shere.

An' thin 'e coom'd to the parish wi' lots o' Varsity debt,
Stook to his taail thy did, an' 'e 'ant got shut on 'em yet.
An' 'e ligs on 'is back i' the grip, wi' noan to lend 'im a shuvv,
Woorse nor a far-welter'd yowe: fur, Sammy, 'e married for luvv.

Luvv? what's luvv? thou can luvv thy lass an' 'er munny too,
Maakin' 'em goa togither, as they've good right to do.
Couldn I luvv thy ****** by cause 'o 'er munny laaid by?
Naay--fur I luvv'd 'er a vast sight moor fur it: reason why.

Ay, an' thy ****** says thou wants to marry the lass,
Cooms of a gentleman burn: an' we boath on us thinks tha an ***.
Woa then, proputty, wiltha?--an *** as near as mays nowt--
Woa then, wiltha? dangtha!--the bees is as fell as owt.

Break me a bit o' the esh for his 'ead, lad, out o' the fence!
Gentleman burn! what's gentleman burn? is it shillins an' pence?
Proputty, proputty's ivrything 'ere, an', Sammy, I'm blest
If it isn't the saame oop yonder, fur them as 'as it 's the best.

Tis'n them as 'as munny as breaks into 'ouses an' steals,
Them as 'as coats to their backs an' taakes their regular meals,
Noa, but it 's them as niver knaws wheer a meal's to be 'ad.
Taake my word for it Sammy, the poor in a loomp is bad.

Them or thir feythers, tha sees, mun 'a bean a laazy lot,
Fur work mun 'a gone to the gittin' whiniver munny was got.
Feyther 'ad ammost nowt; leastways 'is munny was 'id.
But 'e tued an' moil'd issen dead, an' 'e died a good un, 'e did.

Loook thou theer wheer Wrigglesby beck cooms out by the 'ill!
Feyther run oop to the farm, an' I runs oop to the mill;
An' I 'll run oop to the brig, an' that thou 'll live to see;
And if thou marries a good un I 'll leave the land to thee.

Thim's my noations, Sammy, wheerby I means to stick;
But if thou marries a bad un, I 'll leave the land to ****.--
Coom oop, proputty, proputty--that's what I 'ears 'im saay--
Proputty, proputty, proputty--canter an' canter awaay.

Thought Broadcasting

Silence is a silver ship
Traveling at the speed of the darkness,
Black holes are the edifices in which I
Build my thoughts-
Word by word,
Each and every syllable forms upon my lips,
And then broadcasted, aloud-
Thoughts are killers- thoughts can harm-
My thoughts can be heard from afar.
Within this room I write my thoughts
With a pen that is void of ink, or a pencil
That has no lead,
Invisible they are, but somehow,
These thoughts are broadcasted aloud.
Thoughts are killers thoughts control-
My thoughts can be heard from afar.
A silver ship with its sail to the wind,
A wild horse that canters across vast terrain, or
Pebbles that roll off of my fingertips,
That splash into the creek, one by one,
You can see, you can hear, as
My thoughts, broadcasted aloud.
My thoughts can be heard from afar.
My thoughts are a flame that only I can quench.
I am in control of what comes into my mind,
As my hands build the world from
The bricks of Time,
My thoughts control the world.
My thinking destroys those, whom I abhor,
My thoughts control the downtrodden.
Silence is a silver ship, or
The dome beneath which I dwell-
I build my edifice beneath this dome.
No one dares to enter, as
I have broadcasted a message to the world,
My eyes order the world away;
My thoughts are broadcasted aloud,
A bad thought can destroy, as good ones
Create and control,
My thoughts control the world…

Claudia Krizay

Red-eyed and tied to a railway sleeper
someone have mercy on her,
Stop the train.

I watch these silent movies which lack the
pain of sound but ease the brain and
she always escapes from the train,
the hero,
inevitably a man canters in and frees her from
certain death.

Breath fogs the lens with the cold mist of time,
I forgot the lady chained to the line and tried to
make Miss Pickford mine,
she refused me I think, now I drink in
these movies which move me to tears
where did all those years go.

I met her on the road
Exhausted just like me.
I asked her why she's walking
She told me she is free.

I told her I'm a pilgrim.
She warned me, don't forget,
You may be tired of walking,
But your end is 'lejos' yet.

I told her Santiago
Was now my Xanadu.
She laughed and said the Khan awaits.
I laughed and said I knew.

I've seen his horse on hills afar,
He canters while I walk
And Kublai champs his teeth and shouts
His sword spits while we talk.

He wears the forest as a cloak
And chains the wind as breath.
I see him chase me further on
He tracks me to my death.

I asked her where she's going.
To Santiago too,
But I don't seek the spires and peaks
I'm hunting one like you.

He's running as his boots get worn
And I champ my teeth and shout.
He's keeping eyes out to the hills
While my sword point seeks him out.

Her deep black eyes and strong disguise
Bled from her and she stood.
Kublai Khan afore me spoke.
I ran but 'twas no good

She spoke out strong and in a blur,
'You are not my prey.
For many men along the road
Flee demons every day.'

And she roared and drew her breath,
The wind took up her gait.
She took the time to smile before
Her horse flew fast and straight.

I watched her go, still for so long,
The road behind ignored.
I heard the wind blow on before
I turned and saw He roared.

The hill was crowned with forest
Drawn around his back.
He spurred his horse on and the steed
Cantered down the track.

I turned and walked, slow and calm
For I am used to demons.
Though on the road I keep him towed.
The Khan is still the freeman.

Winter canters  from a distance, irresistible she is,
                                    I'd roll in my tranquil bed with her,
              then, her embraces would  become an intoxicant,
                    making me dive in to the lake  of stupor she creates
                                              for me to swim with her.

There is much music in language
Words resonate, full like a gong
Meaning canters like a runaway train
And cadences lilt like calypso song
When poets open their minds to heaven
It pours its musings down from the rift
When their ears have heard the musical word
Their sombre souls uplift

She begins to sing,

Voice Billowing,
Like the breeze,

As Sweet-gum tree's prepare for war; anticipating the winter-tide.
Bleeding red complexion,
like great armies retreating; petrified.

Her soft, cold, breath
canters across my crimson face,
Electrifying the skin with pipe dreams of summer fantasy.
The moon pale with pumpkin pigments in autumn twilight,
Chanting songs that bring the still night scampering to life.

She sings,

With taciturn tunes
and mindful musings
Calling to frigid spirit's softened screams for freedom

She sings

And with the breeze she freezes time
and see's
like the wind
She is free.

She burns and drinks it in
She soaks up the sun with her skin
It kisses her hair
Changes her colors
Keeps her warm


Engulfed in a blanket of comfort
She closes her eyes
She is a goddess
A sunrise

Misunderstood
Soft Spoken
A wild ******* the run
She flees through the forest
With the heart of a lioness
She has a temptation for danger
An ache to fly away
Taste for a poisonous thrill  

The speed quickens everyday
Soon she'll lift up to the sky
She'll soar high with eager hungry eyes




Her heartbeat canters
She's certain of what she wants
But she must put on armor
A goddess must always guard her heart
Her heart is what carries her soul
And her soul carries his wings
She is the daughter of Icarus
Lover of Apollo
She'll take flight to the sun

When the cold comes she'll die
What is done must be done
No one dares to watch her fly
For she might find Elysium

Yet a goddess knows her place in the sky
She'll never be a victim of her father's lie.

drift lemons
on a beach of canters
for amber hyacinths

hurtful words and sarcasm
are given freely to facebook and twitter
an attempt to combat lunacy
becoming the purveyor of crazy
in a land of madmen
my crown cuts deeper than any ole thorn –
self-righteousness oozing from open sores and oil clogged pores
tis a snore
for the ******
they gather in droves, old ***’s lost in blow
both ******* and **** *******
I watch sickened, unable to curb my stare –
wave after wave of useless children
forgotten by the culture that forced their births
adorn sidewalks greedily holding out ***** fingers
begging for patriotic flavored candy
brightly packaged
hiding the poisons
brilliantly –
the brain dead society at large shuffles worn shoes
across roadways littered with magazine advertisements
and perfume samples
blind to their arrogance
building new homes on yesterday’s landfills
tearing down school houses of the past
for robotic manufacturing canters
….. I’ll not be riding the eternal hamster wheel without a fight –

Tell me Love, wouldn't it be great,
If there were no pain to speak of, no bitterness, no hate,
Only love suffice to ignite
A poet's heart to soar, take flight
To dream of wonderful and beautiful things,
Take flight wrapped up in angels wings,
To laugh your heart out and dance in the rain,
To sing away sorrows and forget all your pain,
To live, love and laugh and of sorrows forget,
For life's too short to fill with regret,
No despair to berate, only Love and delight,
That adds colour and sparks to the slow creeping, night,
No need to shoot, to punch, to take aim,
To throw words like poison in to each others brains,
Each accusation canters like a runaway train,
Each one of them is my disdain,
o love, tell me, wouldn't it be divine,
If you could see truth in my own heart like in thine,
No cynical riposte which ties me up in brine,
but to the path of righteousness each word align,
i believe in a god who looks down from above,
who wraps all his children in laughter and love,
i've seen him with my own very eyes,
Soaring and sauntering through majestic skies,
he is most caring and he is most kind,
who plants the healing flower in everyone's minds,
he is the one who will shoulder our pain,
wherever we find dismay and disdain,
raising his voice above the evil throng,
so all on the earth can dance to his song,
when we are down he will send his affection,
and make sure it's received in our direction. xo

Colors and Cravings
Cover ups and Canters
Con men and Crazy minds
Convenient and Casual

A breaking world

Whiteout on 250,
shallow shouldered,
deep ditched,
though straight as dope
and piped icing.
The wind knows the way
but canters,
canters and drags
this crate south,
south into the beams
of some some other
sad **** bent to the clock
and near death for a dime,
for a mortgage,
and some other
******* adherence.

Irony is not believing your mirror
or alternatively
sensibility at its finest
(not my line but I will add it – it fits)
bald head, wrinkles, skeptical eyes
are just the outside.
quietly, privily, absolutely
the inner me still canters along
well, not canter really,
just a steady trot
with frequent pauses for
let’s call it reflection.
trouble is,
as some of us know
and ruefully acknowledge,
time speeds up,
birthdays come so quickly now
last year’s card is still on the shelf
and the envelope too
If someone makes a time machine
I will volunteer
to see if it works

Tell me Love, wouldn't it be great,
If there were no pain to speak of, no bitterness, no hate,

Only love suffice to ignite,
A poet's heart to soar, take flight.

To dream of wonderful and beautiful things,
Take flight wrapped up in angels wings.

To laugh your heart out and dance in the rain,
To sing away sorrows and forget all your pain.

To live, love and laugh and of sorrows forget,
For life's too short to fill with regret.

No despair to berate, only Love and delight,
That adds colour and sparks to the slow creeping, night.

No need to shoot, to punch, to take aim,
To throw words like poison in to each others brains.

Each accusation canters like a runaway train,
Each one of them is my disdain.

O love, tell me, wouldn't it be divine,
If you could see truth in my own heart like in thine.

No cynical riposte which ties me up in brine,
But to the path of righteousness each word align.

I believe in a god who looks down from above,
who wraps all his children in laughter and love.

I've seen him with my own very eyes,
Soaring and sauntering through majestic skies.

He is most caring and he is most kind,
Who plants the healing flower in everyone's minds.

He is the one who will shoulder our pain,
Wherever we find dismay and disdain.

Raising his voice above the evil throng,
So all on the earth can dance to his song.

When we are down he will send his affection,
and make sure it's received in our direction.

Moments undulate stamping this hue
Syncopated with rushes rolling
My step canters in giddy impromptu
‘Cause the bloom in my arm’s unfolding

Notice too much more and I’ll be
Much exposed, transparent at last
I turn to catch a breath from what I see
Belief escapes quickly from my grasp

But remembrance wakes my mind
Through the swell of violins
That you are for “the one” of mankind
Decided there before life could begin

Maybe’s, yes’s, no’s, I stopped caring
My heart speaks softly, lowly, singing
“You are the one, that I’ve longed for
You are the one, my love is yours”