Donuts on doorsteps of Chateaux in Chesburgh
Coffee sipped black and enjoyed super strong,
Evening on terraces’ gold light at sunset
Wish you were here, babe, to **** up the song.
Glint in the eye of a softness and ****
Laughter rings loud at the humour in air
Magical moments, when cups runneth over
Sand twixt the toes and sweet wind in the hair.
Move to the beat of that rhythmical rumbah
Twitch as the petticoats flash as we glance,
Spinning in sensuous glide with the music
Sweat running down a wet back as we dance.

Memories flash of those magical moments
Tasted with relish of tang and no care,
Donuts on doorsteps of chateaux in Chesburgh
Laughter in eyes and a song in the air.

M.
Europe 1979

Choices, so many choices:
Nordic noir or French comedies.
Bluegrass but not country.
Right wing or left wing:
What is useful and what is not?
Random violence doesn't help the plot.
Summer but not autumn
Moss gardens but not lawns.
The grass isn’t always greener,
Or didn’t you know?
British country houses or French chateaux.
Fishing for trout but not bass.
Sailing but no boats with gas.
Cycling but not motorcycles.
So many choices on which to pass.
San Francisco but not Las Vegas.
The Caribbean but not Florida.
Watching films of the desert but not being there.
Admiring the stars but not flying there.
Impressed by the horseman but not the cavalry.
Settling for Ubuntu but too tired for Kali.
Lumping things together is a bad recipe.
Living in Boston but not New York.
Eating peas with a spoon and not a fork.
Living like Dickinson but reading Walt Whitman.
Staying inside is nice; but run outside, shouting if you can.
Watching Downton Abbey on TV but not the screen.
Drinking mocha latte coffee but not tea with cream.
Loving travel round the world but hating the trip.
You can go exploring with your eyes but not your lips.
Deciding what's worthwhile isn't hard; just be resolved.
Critics tell you this or that, but can’t decide what's art or trash.
East or West Coast—why get involved?
Shuttle between them in electric hot rods.
Don't get bogged down with picking a god.
Followers always end up dead and all that matters
Is where they bury or burn you or scatter,
Whether you are declared saint or sinner.

But if I were one of them I would reconsider:
You can be a prophet, the calf that’s golden,
If enough of your votes are stolen.
You can even rule the world
If you ruin lives, steal countries and hurl
Thousands of lies online. These are the stakes.
"Lawyers, guns and money": that's all it takes.
The only real price will be your soul.
But do you believe in it when you get old?
Better make a simple choice.
Speak simply in a honeyed voice.
I read the news today,
Telling me which words to shout,
Make people ignore that time is running out.
Learn to step on them and which crimes to flaunt.
And how to get everything I want,
Then I can enjoy it as the storms rage round,
Live on the mountain as the sea waters drown
Everyone else—do I only need to save myself?
I've got a bombproof mansion underground.
I can hold out fifty years in such a spot....
I would be safe and comfortable,
But then, maybe not...

Maybe it's your smile
It takes me places
And I stare for a while

Maybe it's your eyes
All those gazes
They create fireflies

Maybe it's all of you
Every time you leave my side
I  feel so blue

You make me smile
Even if you don't know
Why I stare at you for a while

You make my eyes glow
Even when I can't see yours
You make me wish I was the princess in your chateaux

You make all of me shiver
Just with a small glance
And I wanna be with you forever
Please just give me a chance...

The hoofs and horses burn in the twilight,
As you count breaths between the stirring Of bees.
Oncoming traffic like a beads on a string,
The Woodworker's rasp,
The beekeeper's screen,
Diamond headlights,
Oncoming rain,
A transparent light,
The stirrings of leaves,
Gravity ground in a ceiling of sky.
In a dry place, the Oracle's
Lost meaning,
A hole in the center of the Sphinx blind eye.
I ply my hand to broken wheel moonlight,
A servitude of stars,
These muttering clouds,
A musty collection of shanties and shacks.
I caught the last sleep to black and white rails,
Slap boards passing, a flickering screen,
In a a theatre of stars and orbits,
A string hang on a ceiling so sweet.
As dogs and birds welcome Blue Heaven,
JESUS SAVES plasters Route 10, Is it West Mex or East Tex
Or is it the same?
Dark buttes, silhouettes, bare bulbs and bugs.
Ariels deep in dark desert valley,
The scent of box elder set in the sun.
The Oracle of day draws you in deeper,
Like a reptile burrowed in the heat of high noon.
A trial by fire, a light like no other,
What wildflowers lurk in the Devil's dark garden?
Witch grass and juniper smelling like rain.
A limestone Chateaux dreary long hours,
In a place surrounded by four walls and a bed,
Scavenging shoes in the dark of the day.
Black spiders in closets hunt along runnels,
A quivering fly caught in a trance.
A brief disconnection,
Ten thousand night and five Fridays ago,
So said the tombstone to each blade of grass.
Gravity Good Mother, teach us a lesson, tied to this tether,
This searing vibration,
A rust belt corrodes the American Dream,
As gulls wheel industrial blight.
Cherry Blue Jewel, the last drop of water,
Glass curtains cover the winnowing storm.
Twilight and half moons,
Long shiny autos,
All the starlets rise with the night.
Pieces and fragments, in abstract arrangement,
Aged black men fishing rivers of cattails.
Asleep in the dusk, a tinkling currant,
My own echo leaving a hollow in air.
Times emollient, 5 beads on a string,
Pharaohs and Pharisees,
A beekeeper's screen,
Shadows caught in a quivering dream.

oh no here I go on a never episode of an
enchanting rant again
staring......
Yoooou...ans Me( dont wory I  bruought plenty of  whining
den nenenaw
dent dant dah!!!!
annnnlets see
with a special
apperance by
Nope thats it
letz jump right in shallow me
ya know what i hate?
sometimes everything.
not always though .
and you know theres never nothing
there is always something
except when im in love and cooking....
on the right burner Jackson
knaw what I mean
creating the most spectacular french cuisine
1000.00dollar skillet with kobe beef in it
oh yah baby
flame on
fillet mingon
chateaux briand
a bernaise so smooth I swear
the women sitting there watching
you like mmm
maybe Im on the menu
feeling like a Chef
anda
mashed up
Super ****
Sous Chefner
makin things
at the mansion
fur the bunnies
woe
oh
no
ok
where was we
Dont even wanna know
no I wanna go back to the mansion
cause now im hungry