Red rooster strut your stuff!
Puff up your chest,
Fill the room with your allure.
Capture an audience with your grace.

****-a-doodle-doo
All the little chickies gather ‘around,
Admiring your strong calls,
Sharp claw feet,
Beautiful red face,

Like a stop sign to ward off intruders.
Little chickies now feel safe.
Are you, are you a red rooster?
Standing firm in your space,
No one dares to give you chase!

****-a-doodle-doo
Are you one of the little chickies
or Red rooster strutting his stuff?
Admiring chickies or strong rooster?
****-a-doodle-doo!  Who are you?

Jealousy, wha is it?
Jealous *******'s with dolla Bill's try to throw out a krispy one hundreds, but dose boy's not fooling ma self.
Jealousy, like reely wha is it?
Women trying to purposeful to hurte us.
And when dey Kant get what dey want
Dey throw out jealous merda,? Like OK
Merda yuo throw
I jus ignore da hata's and playa's.

A bird flew in through my closet
I had to let it go
out the window, it flew into the morning

Buzzing chatter sin and spirits
madly the dance carries on
inane questions with one word answers
reporting the days trivialities
carrying the glass
the deluge of phenomenon strikes at the quick
a deepening glacier through the amber halls
Independent motives form a scarlet solstice
The corner punch
a late coming truth
wrapped around a fly town mule to be found after the chips were down
and the explosives tucked onto a full chest
ticking away the blood buzz
Deceipt is easily repeated
Betrayal is a child's game of hide and seek
take the vows to the woodshed
smoke out the liar and the instigators
tell the mayor and the pauper that the world is burning
and to strangle honesty in a warm blanket, twisting the service
manipulating truth to serve ***** ends
Oh Mystic Mama of children unborn and never met

Chitter Chatter Chitter Chatter Chitter Chatter
platinum blonde birdies
chickies, full breasted youth fresh out of the nest
peep peep peep
sonic cataclysm reigning groove puckered lips and loose necks floating on a string in the whistling gale
My cornered ambition surveying doorways to fate, kind and cursed
the runestone heart scrying destiny
torchlight in a catacomb
smokefunk in a polar vortex
Lions patiently gaze savannas, so shall I, wait for the moments prompting,
a glance, a smile, the eyes are portals to new beginnings
will ours meet in time-space, energetic bridges spanning fate
feeling the flowing force flowering
a daisy, a rose
the scent of burning sage sealed into my clothing, my musk
open your palm now
kyanite slips from mine
polluted temples housing pure souls
speak of fires and nooks and warm bellies full of honey liquor stretched across a bear skin rug, naked,
run your fingers through my thick pelt of curly fur
let me taste your cold smokey lips
take a drag of you
inhaling embers that burn my throat with your incendiary nature

The grey lady of the mirror invites the forgotten man to the palace of pain,
entering into a crystal ballroom dancing blindly into past circumstance marauding as purpose and plan, dusty photographs and scratched records

Lean against the wooden ledge and dream of what could be
crusted sea salt collecting on unspoken thoughts
Nauseous vectors pulling weight against the grainy side
a sigh, a bored youth hidden deep inside
Come children, sway to the intoxicated beat
the pied piper of jazz rolls our frolicking feet steeped in cement
rebellious laughter pours out of aged caskets
barrels of wine flow forth into puddles on the street reflecting the twisted value of the vine, constant motion pretending to be holy endeavors of self conscious people flailing for purpose

Vast desert, without voice
only eyes, silent eyes
hands reporting, sketching symbols
code for a future age
Names and labels filling conceptual minds
Bass groove melting into permeable streams of fluid conversation,
as the wood beams stare silently above reflecting the glow of a mid-winter lantern on a snowy street
nimbly, we punctuate and nod in this, our confused jungle of intention
suddenly, the face of God appears at a crowded bar with jazz and a morraca's hiss
Wild sweet Annie goes down easy with the Corner Punch lost in Lucey's Summer
taking a last ride to Courtland alone along the Mazerac mile riding that same Fly Town Mule on Sunday
Visions of Columbia and Ohio Gold send Blood Buzzing into my dome
With every Call the desire rises for the forsaken, like a memory wrapped in past life
With every stranger passing through the entry way, my hunger for the liar grows, thirsting water from the dead

The big secret
to producing
perfect eggs
is to let them hatch
into wee chickies,
christen them Buddy
and Isabella
and
love them
for the rest
of their lives

If you do not follow the script the script-writer will have to **** you
He will play the lonely broad-hating nut, but really it will be a coup
as unborn infants, burdensome babes, America “righteously” aborts
Fear not witches as aborticide is a mother's right invented by courts
The fiction is that the impregnation of our women needs no cohorts
as it's the natural law law of land, that bench law inevitably distorts
Photography elongates legs & entirely removes battle scars & warts
Chickies 9-heads tall prove truth in advertisin' ain't what it purports
The ropy trails spanning blue horizons ain't what the media reports,
Query not Jax aerosolized army tanker jets 'cause T.V. offers sports
Most of the stuff Sam's Walmart peddles is ****** ***** imports,
as China builds factories in Wyoming, who'll be manning the forts?
Respectful people used to refer to constipation as being out of sorts

If you do not follow the script the script-writer will have to **** you
He will play the lonely broad-hating nut, but really it will be a coup
as unborn infants, burdensome babes, America “righteously” aborts
Fear not witches as aborticide is a mother's right invented by courts
The fiction is that the impregnation of our women needs no cohorts
as it's the natural law law of land, that bench law inevitably distorts
Photography elongates legs & entirely removes battle scars & warts
Chickies 9-heads tall prove truth in advertisin' ain't what it purports
The ropy trails spanning blue horizons ain't what the media reports,
Query not Jax aerosolized army tanker jets 'cause T.V. offers sports
Most of the stuff Sam's Walmart peddles is ****** ***** imports,
as China builds factories in Wyoming, who'll be manning the forts?
Respectful people used to refer to constipation as being out of sorts

If you do not follow the script the script-writer will have to **** you
He will play the lonely broad-hating nut, but really it will be a coup
as unborn infants, burdensome babes, America “righteously” aborts
Fear not witches as aborticide is a mother's right invented by courts
The fiction is that the impregnation of our women needs no cohorts
as it's the natural law law of land, that bench law inevitably distorts
Photography elongates legs & entirely removes battle scars & warts
Chickies 9-heads tall prove truth in advertisin' ain't what it purports
The ropy trails spanning blue horizons ain't what the media reports,
Query not Jax aerosolized army tanker jets 'cause T.V. offers sports
Most of the stuff Sam's Walmart peddles is ****** ***** imports,
as China builds factories in Wyoming, who'll be manning the forts?
Respectful people used to refer to constipation as being out of sorts

It's the sharp smell of saturated soil
Watching a puff-chested robin pluck a worm from the earth.
Violet tickled feet hop the spring marsh,
And sharp yellow trills sound like the nearby
Rambling brook.

They come along in mostly threes and fives.

Time ensconces her like petals.
Scrolling through one life we see
Petals wrapping left, or right:

Flying forward, hear the chickies cheeping
She feeds their yawning beaks a worm
The cowbird, now, she's noticing

Rustling petals tell their story:
Macon is her winter home.
The southern air smells slightly sweeter

Flipping through the days and seasons
Petals welcome blackened fruits
The fetus of inimic feature
Is pregnant with shadows of the past.

It's how her collapsing body made room
For everything that has been.

And heading eggwards, backyard feeders
Summers spent in Pennsylvania
Followed rounds and first palms ever...

Waketh I, to pungent earth!

Baby robins are good-natured
I suppose in life, they must commit some grave crime
So say to all these blackened fruits of mine:
Trophies for participation.
Help me down into my place
Be the wet-nurse of my

"But trouble started with the inordinate boasting of heroes' wives who taunted their less fortunate sisters with particularly nasty remarks such as: 'Chicks and chickies, that's what you are'...The situation was not improved by mortified rejects who roamed the night, serenading heroes' wives with suggestive reflections on empty beds and the like...which led to immediate acts of reprisal, the heroes' wives arming themselves with their late husbands' weapons and assaulting their detractors in public." Fr. "A Far-Out Book: The Hero Maker"(1959) by Akbar del Piombo