.there's about a million Poles in England, give or take, since the introduction of the A8 in 2004... what's the trick of being a minority ethnicity? apart from the physiological similarity with the natives? you mingle with the upper-tier of "migrants" of Britain... you go to an Catholic school and mingle with the 2nd and 3rd generation Irish... you go to university and spend time with the Scots... you dismiss the Welsh as the boot licking crowd of what's Britain... but? most importantly? you speak the native's tongue better than the natives themselves... you allow yourself a chance to make your diacritical application a patch-work puzzle of pronunciation... i know that i speak two languages... but i can imitate three forms of accents... 2 in english, but only one in Polish... well... 2 in Polish... but not like some foreigner learning the language in Krakōw in some summer school... two languages... four accents... the countryside shyness for diacritical markers for urban folk... a complete disregard for them... 2 languages... 4 accents.

i'm not really into finding a drinking buddy...
what's with people using strong
alcohol to socialize?

             the moment i start talking after
about half a liter of whiskey
my tongue turns into an oyster -
   rather than a prodding rod -
a lance - you name it...

     once there's a cage on my speech -
i dare not put on the beer goggles
when i take to language -
  un-speaking what the natives speak...

kestrel eyes... mollusk tongue
   at that point...

     but it's nice to walk into a supermarket
and talk with a fellow ginger
about a product...
    ****! i knew i should have given
him the recommendation about
the henry westons' cider...
which would have went like so:

oh don't worry that it's 8.2% -
it's not Carlsbeg export...
believe me, you won't mind it...

the cashier?
    like my selection of whiskey...
eh?
    whyte & mackay...
the best **** on the block...
smooth whiskey...
   bells?
     we agreed, too smokey...
the famous grouse?
    ever get a hint of chocolate on
that kosher glug of
the highlinds?
                
       **** me... it's like one of those
moments when you play a song
in your head...
roxette's, from the seminal
album joyride: small talk...

             he mentioned some sweet whiskey,
warned me: might as well be
drinking Kentucky bourbon...

        what was that other song?
ah...
            from the movie inside man...
not being gay or anything:
but **** isn't Clive Owen
the morning cockerel...
   Washington isn't bad, either...
chaiyya chaiyya (bollywood joint)
remix...

George who?
   what was ever so big about Clooney
among the ladies' fantasies?
it was always Owen, all the day...
looks being one thing...
but the voice?
             close second,
                Jerard Beutlé(r)...

too much blah blah...
but when a blah blah moment comes,
and two people know
what they're talking about?
brilliant! please! more of it!
i can have a minute with someone
and then sink back into
my conversation hubris for a week...

i once "forgot" and didn't really
say a word for about a week...
               but honest to god...
this is probably the most mundane
"poem" i've ever written...

               either i haven't drunk enough,
or i'm thinking of something
completely different
to usher in the night.

A question that should be on
Your mind this evening is why?
Why are the people of Greece--
Why is the nation of Greece--getting
Spanked & punished by their EU
German & French economic overlords?
We should be saluting tonight’s
Referendum NO vote results,
The Greek electorate voting against another
Devastating round of economic sanctions,
Voting NO on more years of austere living.
In fact, it should be U.S. foreign policy to
Support complete Greek withdrawal from
The European Union. That’s right:
“Euro No, Drachma naí!”
The EU is fiscal tyranny,
Led by the EU autocrats,
Angela Merkel & whomever is sitting in the
French baby high chair these days.
Isn’t it a strange coincidence that the
EU whip, always seems to be cracking on
Their swarthier brethren,
Their southern European members,
The Spaniards, Portuguese, Italians &,
The Greeks.
The Greeks have had enough.
One would expect nothing less from
These fiercely independent
Hellenistic people.
And you can **** the Greek people
Up their ***** all you want &
Many of them might like it, but
The Greeks will survive,
Survive as they have for nearly 3,000 years,
Give or take a Kalamata olive or two.
We breathe the air of Greek culture,
Deep respiration of so much of
What we still call learning these days.
We owe the Greeks: it was
Greek inception of so much
Math & science &
Countless other right-brain
Spatial ability & logical precision; not to
Mention so many left-brain contributions in
Sociology & ethics,
Politics & democratic government,
Geography & religion,
Education & philosophy,
Sculpture & art, philosophy,
Live theater & literature.
We owe the Greeks.
Had we interceded with the Brits on Greece’s behalf,
Reminding them that we bailed out their sorry ***-cheeks
After two 20th Century world wars, perhaps
The British Museum might have Fedexed
The so-called Elgin Marbles--
Those boosted friezes,
Jacked right off the
Parthenon façade,
Should have Fedexed them back to
"Eleftherios Venizelos,"
Decades ago.
George’s wife, that foxy babe
Amal Clooney sure thinks so.
We owe the Greeks.
The world owes the Greeks.
Let us all help the Greeks.
Let’s encourage them to quit the EU.
To Greeks I say: trust & patience,
You’ve got the sun.
You’ve got the sea.
A clean white landscape,
Ouzo & Retsina,
Spanakopita & Moussaka.
The Greek Islands:
Crete & Mykonos,
Santorini & Corfu,
Rhodes & Ios
Samos & ****** . . .
We owe you.
We love you.
We will come to you.

Women are always saying, why are there no good men out there anymore?
I say there are plenty of good men out there.
Good men with great qualities.
Might not look like Brad Pitt but strong enough to never quit.
You can't wait for a George Clooney you may go ******.

You chose to go out on a date with that handsome man.
Who drives the fancy car and wears that fancy watch.
That handsome man wined you and dined you.
Took you back to his place where you ended up staying late.
You left in the early morning hour, heading home for a shower.
A few days have gone by, that handsome man never calls.
You're feeling sad and rejected, thats what handsome men do.

A good man would not have rejected you.
A good man who drives an old pickup truck.
Who worries when the rents do.
A good man working to make ends meet would sweep you off your feet.
Good men aren't hard to find.
Just open your eyes and you just might find.
That there are a few good men out there.

I look like my dad.

My mom looks like Audrey Hepburn,
with a dash of Twiggy thrown in
for good measure,

but I,
I look like my dad.

(My dad, for the sake of clarity,
looks nothing like Audrey Hepburn
or Twiggy.
He’s more the George Clooney type -
which is a great look for George Clooney
and for my dad -
but not
for a girl who wanted to look like
Princess Di,
or Cindy Crawford,
or  Julia Roberts,
or Gisele…)

A woman now,
wiser now,
older now,
I look in the mirror and know that -
all things progressing as they usually do -
a time will come
when the mirror will be the only place
I will see his face.

And I hope,
when that time comes,
I can still remember

how to look at myself through those eyes
that knew I was beautiful long before I even knew my own name:

How to look
like my dad.

for Nave*

Busyness makes one idiotic and forgetful.  And we nearly sunk the night
didn’t we darling, leaning on the wrong swing.  

(It is always the peach tree.)   Katrina doing her Harpy on Fullblast thing
with such deftness and professionalism she leaves us no room to respond

to legs and offers of spread cheese.  And poets cave in like lonely black holes
if they cannot response as fully as they have peaches in their coffers to do so,

or at least they think so and so do we so I escaped to shower, and tried to make
the water hot enough to round me straight again, but my skin still gets in the way.  

I wanted to peel off everything and douse my soul straight in the hot and the lavender, questing
for a readiness beyond the pale, some state rare, and infinitely usuable.  

It was only when, and this is true, when I decided to make a list of
why I love you that the water went in

and the lavender grew instantly between my toes.  And Rosemarey Clooney
danced you in to me and you were a happy Papa at last, and we knew enough.  And there
was finally room enough to
mambo home.

the soft grass tickles
my bare feet
as I walk across the bluegrass
and I realize that it may be
a bit sterotypical for a girl like me
a sundress wearing
sweet tea drinking
southern girl like me
to tell you that Kentucky
is not a place i want to leave
but heres the thing
I've got all my teeth
a pretty full vocabulary
and a 28 on my ACT
and here in Kentucky,
we're hobbits, not hillbillies
we're more than just a basketball team
and maybe in the dictionary,
its Daniel Boon and geography
and home of the KY Derby
but hell we've got Johnny Depp and George Clooney
and the beautiful mountains and trees
in Eastern Kentucky
and we have culture and cuisine,
and so many things
that if you still think I'm stereotypical, then maybe
I dare you to see what youre missing.

Love the name.
Got upset
When the man called out, Seen.
Stupid man.
It's Sean, and not Shawn.
A year older than Gerald.
Two younger than Kevin.
Two older than me.
That's Sean.
Daddy wrote home about us.
Maura was working at the hospital.
Sheila was finishing highschool.
Kevin won the Science Fair.
Sean plays ice hockey with the All Stars,
All over Canada and the U.S.
I found the letter, penned in '62,
A jagged European cursive. They tend to write the same.
I've seen the words, run together to hide the spelling;
With JMJ's and TG's sprinkled like manna throughout.
The last page was missing,
Just when Daddy'd write about Gerald, me, and Marlene.
Gerald with his Beetles haircut.
Me, mimicking ( probably mocking),
Some unknown priest, to my father's delight;
Marlene, the wee pigeon, he missed most when he worked
Away from home.
Jimmy, The Bruiser, wasn't here yet.
The last of an Irish brood settled in Canada.

I discovered it in the spare room at Granny's and Frank's.
There was no mention of Michael, Eucheria or Particia.
He exaggerated about the harsh, six-month winters here,
And our proximity to the North Pole.
Suggested Frank try putting copper wires around Granda's wrists;
The Egyptian mummies didn't exhibit signs of bone deterioration.
Daddy was hard-pressed to be proven wrong when he concocted.
Sean had a drawer full of ribbons, medals, trophies and plagues,
And a large S, his Senior Letter.
He also had sideburns, a much smaller nose, and,  smelled
as good as he looked,
The Elvis dip-curl, the Connery swag, the Selleck stash to Clooney cool.
Sean kept a disposition of hidden pains secreted for others.
A heart of tears.
A spirit of adventure.
I love Sean, I recall.
He is always welcome here.
Drops by sometimes.
It's always a great surprise.

Let’s face it: we’re not all George Clooney.
Most of us need a little help scoring with chicks.
Our *****—the archetypal genital signal—
Are hidden from sight, &
****** wagging
Will get you arrested.
Perhaps, pheromones may be the answer.

Dr. Winifred Cutler’s Bio:
(As read by Don Pardo, postmortem).
“Biologist and behavioral endocrinologist Dr. Winifred Cutler was the first to establish the presence of human pheromones in 1986 when her team removed sweat from human underarms and found that only the odorless materials that contained pheromones remained.”

Blessed are the
Underarm Sweat Removers,
A Labor cohort
Soon to be SEIU smorganized . . .
Organized, smorganized. | Karen Koedding, Productivity ...
https://www.linkedin.com/.../organized-smorganized-karen-koe...LinkedIn Organized, smorganized. Jan 7, 2015. 209Views; 11Likes; 3Comments. Share on LinkedIn; Share on Facebook; Share on Google Plus; Share on Twitter.
Ka-Ching.
Ka-Ching.

And Andy Stern’s suggestion,
Probably the best for anyone
Searching for a new mate, or
Wanting to move up,
Move up to a new relationship plateau,
Move up to a higher class of ******?
Open your nostrils.
Take a deep breath.

Bio continues:
“Dr. Winifred Cutler
Founded the Athena Institute in 1986,
Selected that name
Signifying the mission;
Helping women increase
Wisdom and skill,
Relative to
Their Bodies,
Their Health,
Their Wellbeing.”

Why not a Nobel for Dr. Cutler?
Testimony follows:
“Pheromones magnify my mojo.
I wear the love potion that makes
The most gorgeous gal in the bar--
That kind of gorgeous gal,
Usually out of my league—
Makes her look my way.
Welcome, my fingers
Touch her siren shoulder.
She turns,
‘What do you want?’ she asks coyly.
‘Um, want to dance?’ I manage.
She grins, looks me
Up and down—
Mostly down—
And says, “Not really.”

The verdict?
Apparently, the scent of pheromones is
Still overpowered by nerves.
Let’s face it:
Women can smell fear.

get your ***** ******* grubs off of me,
i am not going to bargain
a cartesian dualism with the notion
that the body can overcome the mind
with exercise gimmicks:
you, *******, guinea nimwit!
        i used to slap my grandfather's
sheen on a bold, but otherwise
bald cranium for jokes,
  and flick his remaining hairs into
the air to reveal a hidden jack
nicholson, i also called the police
and had him institutionalised with
psychiatric aid, for throwing my
grandmother through a glass door and
breaking her arm...
       me?! you'll get more
apologetic "nuance" about drinking
from a priest than from, me!
         i turn ugly, silently,
       i just abhore this antique deal
with descartes,
               i don't know why why that
the body can overcome the mind...
or why blankety-blank trivia is to solve
the matter...
or whether pumping iron helps...
      by this point i''m not writing:
i'm coal-mining, i'm digging...
               the body, however perfect
will not unravel the problems of the mind,
attaining body antics perfected only
stalls the otherwise still present:
problems of the mind.
                       toxicology reports read:
adrenaline *****.
             sebastian mc'queer miss-match
between a cocktail waitress,
  a ******* bunny and a bartender named:
shteeve.
                 ******* waste of time
by my rubric of arithmetic...
  but at least ben affleck wasn't the worst
batman,
      we all know that george clooney was.
we have finally arrived at a loss
of mind-body dualism,
   we have achieved a dichotomy,
finally!
       we can, for the first time,
fathom clear segregating posits,
indicators,
                    membranes!
whatever noun you use -
                 the joke about schizophrenia,
is that it's not a joke concerning
        premature depression -
premature depression is more unusual
than premature dementia -
      there's the bicimeral theory
to begin with...
           unless of course you're dealing
with snowflakes who want languaage
as rigid as possible,
      readied for the acceptance of it,
like any type of i.k.e.a. put it together,
yourself, manual...
the mundane aspect of the whole affair
only breeds a gagging effect,
like choking on a 12" **** with your nose
pinched-shut,
  ******* disgusting;
  if i really wanted to draw a straight line
i wouldn't necessarily obligate language
to latex ******* *******...
           i'd be the one
adding oil to the fire, and wanting
unadulterated chaos,
  before the hell-fire focus of: inferno...
for language is just that:
   i abhor the term poet,
i prefer the term...
                               pyrotechnician...
i do not write poetry:
   i cement myself in pyrotechnics.
    i abhor this dualism -
            this notion that a sick mind can
be mended by being worked on by
a invigorated body,
      or that a sick body can be mended by
being worked on by an
invigorated mind...
   odd... to have such vehement emotions
surrounds a mere idea...
that there is no mind-body dualism,
but that there's a mind-body dichotomy...
and that there's only a mind-mind dualism
that, given the cartesian concept brideges
upon the res extensa: the extended thing,
whereby the mind-mind dualism
disintegrates when the notion of a, soul,
is involved / invested in,
perhaps as concrete rubric, or perhaps
as a mere cognitive, hobby...
  let us simply add:
   there are those who bow and pray and
pay due diligence to a god...
  while others, neither procrastinate themselves,
nor day allegiance to a, deity -
for there is so much more involvement in
entertaining the thought of a...
deity...
             and these cognitive
acrobatics never allow for a yawn
to be present, in their ritualistic endeavours,
with due need, or due, cause.

p.s. i think people really underestimate
schizophrenics, the abnormality of it
is fascinating...
      as is the case with the endeavour of
finding a soul, or as i like to call it:
the osmosis of psyche overpowering the mind,
and creating a mind-body dichotomy
rather than enforcing a mind-body "dualism"...
psychosis.
                   it's a shame how people
under-appreciate a mind-mind dualism...
a dualism, split, yet nonetheless whole...
     cf. julian jaynes...
                      but what isn't fascinating
is premature depression...
   that's just plain ******* tragic...
i can understand depression in old people,
who have actually accomplished something
in their lives...
but when it concerns youngsters?
completely unfathomable and
                    uninteresting to me,
on the basis that it's so abnormal that
it's suicidal and completely averted to
the otherwise schizoid exploratory tendency
of reintegrating a disintegrating form
of language structure... perhaps that's
a post-modernist statement...
but the "sane" always cite
being perplexed by language that's:
   non-instructive; b'aah b'aah...
******* herds, do we always have to whip
them into submission and cohort?
  yes, yes, the open end hyphen grammar
   -cohort-, that's transcendental grammar,
it's not supposed to be a noun,
rather, an adjective by-and-of-itself
revealing of the submissive character of
strict, military, discipline!
my ambition was never to write
a ******* i.k.e.a. manual for a: do it yourself
take on a folding chair!

*** without passion, is like dancing without music .
Not much fun, but kind of amusing,
Lying there upon your back,
Has the ceiling got a crack?
The shopping list is planned at best,
Thoughts of George Clooney, in your head,
Just hoping now he'd hurry along,
Not fumbling around, getting it wrong,
Still not cleared up the plates from supper,
And you really just fancy a nice hot cuppa.

What Is It With ...
  
... " Modern Women " ... ???  
That Makes Men Want Them .... ?  
  
Cos' Women These Days ...  
Drive Men Round The Bend ... !!!!!  
  
I CANNOT Contend ...  
With ... CASH HUNGRY Women ...  
Who Just Want A RICH MAN ...  
To Buy Them A ... " Benz' " ... !!!!!  
  
I Work With TOO MANY ... !!!  
Who Talk Such NONSENSE ... !?!  

" Clooney's got ***** ! "  
  
And ...  
  
" Brad is a HUNK ! "  
  
THIS Is The Problem ...  
I CANNOT ... Defend ... !!!
  
These Women Are LUSTFUL ... !!!  
For These .... " Pretty Men " .....  
  
Men WITHOUT Character ....  
Men Who AREN'T MEN ... !!?!!  
  
Do You Get The Point ... ?!?  
I Won't Say It Again ... !!!  
  
But NOW You CAN'T TELL ...  
Who ARE ... Men Or Women ... ?!?  
  
These Hollywood FOOLS ...  
Just Keep On TAMPERING ...  
With What Is ... GOD GIVEN ...  
  
The Body They Live In ... !?!  
  
These People Are FAKE ...  
Kind of Like ... " Robin Givens " ... !!!
  
Just Look At Poor Mike ...  
The IRON ... Ring TITAN ... !!!  
  
Before He Met Robin ...  
He ... DIDN'T NEED BITING ... !!!  
  
Ladies THESE DAYS ...  
Are Simply ... " Inviting " ...  
Men To Just ... BUY THEM ... !!!  
  
Now Isn't That ... FRIGHTENING ... !?!  
  
Lap Dancing Clubs ...  
Are Now ... EVERYWHERE ... !!!  
  
Women Are Selling ...  
Their Bodies Like ... " Shares " ... !!!  
  
So ... What Has This Done ... ?  
For Men Wanting ... "Care" ... ?  
  
Put Them In A Place ...  
Where They'd Better BEWARE ... !!!!!  
  
Your Girlfriend or WIFE ...  
May LOVE YOU TONIGHT ...  
  
But When You're Out Working ...  
She's With ... OTHER GUYS ... !!!  
  
Showing Her Body ...  
Right Down To Her Thighs ...  
  
And If They've Got CASH ...  
It's The ... ULTIMATE PRIZE ...  
  
HELL YES ...  
Girls WILL LIE ... !!!!!  
  
To You And ... THEMSELVES ... !?!  
  
Guys ...
DON'T BE Surprised ...  
  
Women Are ... " Crafty " ...  
SOME Really ... AREN'T Nice ... !!!  
  
Fellas Pick WISELY ...  
Otherwise ... PAY THE PRICE ... !!!!!!  
of Getting A DUD ...  
Whose Version of Love ...  
Is ... Marrying You ...  
For MONEY Or ... DRUGS ... !!!!!  
  
Disses ... NOT Kisses ...  
And Being ... DISMISSIVE ...  
  
These Are ... " Misdemeanours " ...  
I ... CANNOT Forgive .... !!!  
  
I Try To Enlist Intuitive Gifts ...  
Before ... Ending Up ...  
In A Bed With A ***** ... !!!  
  
This Piece ...
May Sound ... BITTER ... ?!?  
  
SO WHAT If I Am ... !?!  
  
I'm STILL NOT Suggesting ...  
ALL WOMEN ... USE Man ... !!!!!  
  
I Have Got A GOOD ONE ... !!!  
So Far She's Been ... " Cool " ...  
  
This May Be Because ... ?  
She KNOWS I'm ... NO FOOL ... !!!!!  
  
She'd Probably Say ...  
She's ... " Used to my ways ! "
  
Believe Me ... That's Cool ...  
But Maybe It's Cos' ...................  
  
I've Got A ... BIG TOOL ... !!!  
  
I Use It With CAUTION ... !!!  
My Girl Takes PRECAUTIONS ... !!!  
Cos' What We ... DON'T WANT ...  
Is To ... Go Through ABORTION ... !!!!!!!!!  
  
Some Girls Nowadays ...  
Use ****** For PLAY ... !!!?!!!  

FELLAS ... Start Using ...  
Your Tools THE RIGHT WAY ... !!!!!!  
Cos' ... TOO MANY Girls ...  
Are Now ... Turning GAY ...  
  
"I don't need a man !  
I've got a New Plan !  
I'll pay my own bills !  
Do you understand ?"
  
"Hmmm, Destiny's Child,  
have poisoned your mind !  
They do need a man,  
I think you will find !"
  
Lesbianism ....  
Is Now ... RUNNING WILD ...  
  
When Compliments Come ...  
They FROWN And ... DON'T Smile ... !!!  
  
That's Why Men Like Me ...  
Are Running A MILE ... !!!!!  
  
Rather Than Chase These Girls ...  
Who ... Act Like A CHILD ... !!!  
  
These Girls With NO BRAIN ... !!!  
Will ... NEVER Attain ...  
A Man of TRUE SUBSTANCE ...  
Cos' ... These Men ABSTAIN ...  
From Dealing With Women ...  
Who Like To ... " Play Games " ...  
  
Cos' Women Who Do This ...  
Are Simply ... A PAIN ... !!!  
  
Women SHOULD  ...........  
REFRAIN From ... THIS ...  
  
Saying Things ......  
That .... Just Don't Sit ... ?!?  
  
Like .....  
  
"Virgil, you don't seem romantic ?"
  
"Stupid Cow, that's because you're married !"  
  
I LOVE ..... " Romance " ..... !!!  
I LOVE To ...  " Dance "  ... !!!  
  
I LOVE To Get ...  
In ... Womens Pants ... !!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
But ....  
  
TRUST IN THIS ... !!!  
  
It's NOT A Living ... !!!  
Girls THESE DAYS Are UNFORGIVING ... !!!!!  
  
As I End .....  
This Is ... THE BEGINNING ...  
  
of Things I See ...

... " IN " ...  
  
... " Modern Women " ...

Interesting that we older men now flag our own decline
Composted in this shameful ruse enacted over time.
We point to prime examples of our keynote men of age
De Niro, Keitel, Clooney, Hurt…all class acts, on the stage.
Take Clarkson, Rush, O’Toole and Bean…they brim like vintage wine,
Having come to terms with baldness and the sagging paunch decline.
Like them, we’ve learned the lesson of absurdity of life,
Where the trick to aged contentedness, is to pacify the wife.
An awareness of fragility in that pending death is near,
Is offset by the peace of mind of subdued *** and beer.
We say, to Hell with gradual fade of hairline, health and wealth
When a crystal glass of single malt can smooth it all by stealth.
So quell the racing, thudding heart, lean back in wisdom’s shine,
Secure in that with shaky hand…We can still quaff vintage wine.
And should the youth lose patience with a hesitancy there
We can usually still their arrogance with a knowing senior stare,
And should there be a question of a competency still?
Remind them their tomorrow too.. is running fast downhill.
Don’t sweat it with the walker, for it all arrives too soon
And sweetly on the wireless there was Perry Como’s croon,
Take comfort in the fact that soon they’ll put us out to grass
When oblivion comes creeping in Altzheimers foggy clasp.
To tabulate the good and bad within this lifetime’s span
Leaves the negatives predominant, should truth reveal her hand,
It becomes a bit obsessive when the mind’s allowed to dwell
For around the corner, probably, …. is a one way trip to Hell.

M.
Pukehana Paradise
Auckland NZ
May 7 2014

a drinking duel to George Bush I lost once
a woman to George Clooney
I spent many George Washington's
foolishly

Listened to George Harrison sing about
My Sweet Lord,
and related more to Thorogood
One scotch , bourbon, beer

I wish I was funny
as George Carlin,
or had the clarity
of George Orwell

But my name is not George.
I am not Patton.
Can't sing like Jones.
Or compose , like
Gershwin.

I tried to change my name.
It did not help.
so , don't
call me George.

liberal FIasco!! get out of my hair you nibbling twittling tweeting frenzy!  Circus of sole, circus of politicians, dancing with strings, with grins of overnight whitening, of dance, dance, of orient!  Whose in charge, and who is next!  Of line!  Not in the sense of the actors call, no, no, of the line of parliament!  Of the line of veto power!  and the veto power rests in the lap of clooney, whose approval is spoken with a glance from the camera,

Liberal fiasco!! you shuddering thorn in my hat, away with you, where did you come from?  that democratization of art, took it too far, press press press for your issue issue issue, for the children children children,oh you noble big headed liberals, of charity, of farting and calling the shard charity!  you poopsicles!  walking around with swirles on your head, prefer the taste of baby green or delicious brown custard scream?  you pompous boils, of anything but honesty, of swivlling chairs you are, you Oscar, call yourself stone!

Rev it up
revelations
Poems
I am starting to heat
Like a sweet ***
The thirst to quench
The sun stays never to be
switched
Like a birth
glowing rich
The procreation bloom

Egyptian words
Do they really need more room?
((One Day Creation))

575 Haiku 24/7
A spiritual touch
of the Rumi
Kabuki
Whom he?
Through me
His poem
Knew my assumptions?
Run around  to Sue-me__
Mooney Cafe George
Clooney

5-Loves too many?
7-Moves money talks
5-Doves peek woo
Love me do
You know
I love Poems
More than you

Loves five fire tribe
and words enlight
The punchy resolution
That's your flight
Shes higher love doves
He craves all her words

((Divination))

To resist the
temptation
Fruit punch someone
got a hunch
One Stanza not a bunch
The Nutcracker Ballerina
Italian Archetypal Piza

Celestial Poems
Mystical poetically
loved
Hierarchy of her
poem potent
well-fit glove
Such words to build
Strength with
dignity such a rarity
Her patience deep set
With such potency
The Republicans or
Democrats
Higher than the Penthouse
or wearing ballet flats
Poems need to be heard
Robin-joy to the world
Double breasted
he's suited

Please no copycats
Poems cheek to cheek
The dancer true
romancer every
poem week
Fred Astaire
Madame and
Monseir fresh
baguette
Poem goes deeper
then the crust of bread
Don't underestimate
the difference
How words can
make lives change

The world so
Parametric
We are all
Programmatic
Poems and loves platonic
Shakespearian force
With style and
gravity
Meet her sexuality
Make the transition
The sonnet sailing
Fourteen lines
Let's not get greedy
((With All Assumptions))
Not to be disturbed
please no interruptions
Poems are our lives
You wear the crown
Leave them
unwanted ones
for the class clown

If George Clooney were a fisherman
would Amal have taken the bait?
If Angelina had been a char
Brad would have given her a tip
or maybe the slip
and that would'a been it.
If Montgomery were disguised as a ***
Alice would go home when her shift was done.
If your boyfriend worked down the sewer
would you go all the way down for the cure?

Do ya think Melania would'a said I Do
if he couldn't afford his daily hair-do?
Set for life or a set up for a life of strife
at the house of white?
Would Tiger be putting more *****
if Wood's be zipping it all the way up?

How many wolves in sheep's attire
get through the BS detection without
as much as an ounce of rejection?
How many I Love Yous slip down the loo
only to end up at the other end of the grand sue?

How many roses does it take to say it
when you no longer can locate it?
Makes ya yawn doesn't it!

Still we're all chomping at the bit.
Would risk it all for just one more hit,
a total hissin' fit
of the I Love Yous.

she used to sing around the house
songs from the Hit Parade
there was a little transistor radio
slim, dark green with a telescoping antenna
kept on the kitchen windowsill
she would listen to music
singing along while cooking and cleaning
or going solo a Capella
Rosemary Clooney, Della Reece
Frank Sinatra, Andy Williams
Jo Stafford Weston
she told me that when ‘Daddy” was in the hospital
he had his favorites
Don’t You Know and You’ll Never Know
he asked her to sing them again and again
her singing came from a good place
somewhere deep inside her
a place where she could just be herself
apart from life’s responsibilities
far away from the roles of wife
and mother to too many children
leaving behind the frustrations
of carrying on in poverty’s face
if only for the moment it took
to sing a song
she would sing about pyramids and sunrises
about a lady with an enigmatic smile
cheating hearts and when she might fall in love
and we learned all those songs  too
as her hearing worsened
she stopped singing
as if she lost a piece of herself
she’s gone now
but we still have those memories
a musical legacy for her talented children

White smudges like maps line the walls.
Crinkled bills sit on the counter.
The shades have wiped away the sun.
And humming drifts through the room,
Without a greeting.

Air sits thick upon the chest.
A pencil skipping skillfully to the tune,
Of Rosemary Clooney.
A single bead of moisture glides towards the desk.

One single tear of a paper takes us from Monday to Tuesday.
And it's here we find ourselves.
Again and again and again.

Until everything changes once again.

The line up at the movie theatre is long.
And the rain crosses
the scene in diaganol lines.
that's when I saw her
so frail painfully thin and cold.
her face had been pretty once.
she still had the most beautiful blue eyes.
almost too big for her now gaunt features
she carried a sign
two children and homeless please help.
I recognized her as she got closer
I had seen her a week ago
at the bus station in town.
Then her sign read
cold and hungry please help.
someone threw a handfull
of loose change at her feet
she knelt down hurriedly
trying to pick up
every single coin.
I had only twenty dollars on me.
But suddenly the movie banner
with George clooney and
Catherine zeta Jones
smiling down at me
lost its apppeal.
I ****** the note into her hands.
she looked at me with her blue blue eyes.
Then i had to walk home
in the rain as fast as I could.
For I had an overwhelming urge
to hug my teenage daughter.
and tell her I loved her

(I fell for him right away.
I have no idea why.
He is no George Clooney.
That's for sure.
My mom and best friend
Said are you sure honey
He's a bit funny looking.

And he has rough edged.
I said I will clean him up mom.
She gave me her told you so look
of disapproval.
But he made me laugh nothing ever bugged him.
He used to laugh at problems.
Nobody will give a **** in fifty years
He would say his rough edges sparkling like a diamond.

He would say on Sunday mornings
After he made love to me
I am smiling ear to ear honey..
I just made love with the sexiest woman alive.
He made me feel beautiful.
How the heck did he do that.

When the kids came
He told them they were beautiful and smart  just like your mom.
,they adored him.
Perhaps almost as much as me.

I got very sick
He carried me around nursed me back to health.
Even mom said he's not so bad.
He cried when it looked bad.
Don't you go and die me honey.
I am lost without you.

But he went and died on me.
And I did not know what to do.
He hid his sickness from me.
I am a bit run down
Need a tonic
A bit of vitamin F would good for me.
I laughed and we made love.
Until he couldn't any more
And I knew...I knew.

His last day he held me close and said
You know something honey.
If I had been offered another ten years but without you
I would say no thanks I will wait for her in heaven.

.I have tried dating again
But when I get home
I fall asleep and he's back in my dreams.
Boy oh boy it's good to hold you he says.
And I say
Its always you honey.
Only you.
And the sleep
is peaceful and deep once more.