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watch over the colony
shedding their lives
to pay for a lend

cover your ears
don't humor the calls
but cully the fear

"please, we are freezing
there's not enough food
our children are ill"

hush little ones
your leaders have failed
shame on the lot

this is your trial
and We are the judges
sitting on hands
The Legislators vs the people
bass sic cully, plucking strings iz a ja
Cane Nines Har Able
   To Out Best playing cello yo yo Ma
so stated by this fretful pa

Ode per pooch pounding ruff
   sounding sub woofer.
Whew - all done taking a leak
   behind bushes of favorite vetch
tub bull patch so now,

   arf goes me dog gone
   bark a roll and ruff sketch
shod ye be least bit interested in this retch
in this faux paused muttering mongrel,

who (despite viscous rumors to the contrary)
nada a leech nor letch
boot actually quite a "good" fetch
and a fine prairie home companion –

even if yar tail got docked
   with out anesthesia by a pretty lass see
still...Yukon feel melancholy
nonetheless juiced buffer end me
like ya know throw
   a ***** en re:coe Fermi can catch.

Me - iz one hippie dawg,
who sports hair reed style like a veil
longish, and minimally groomed,
asper an antagonistic,
sans brothers Grimm tale

with no intent to rant nor rail
searching fur gallivanting
   female nursery rhyme minus a quail
boot...with jack and his pail,

which known storybook
   quite old as a rusty nine-inch nail
stating dogmatic, humanistic and lyric words
once adored by this older Socratic male

offers himself as a bona fide
   potential Petsmart call soul mate hale
and hearty without any major Def Jam ***** fail
yore, beardless yet scruffy,

   I wear spectacles rather bifocals bare
lee stay put on me snout
   to see the world more crystal clear
especially when chaste
   to impress a ***** in heat -

   like ye mud dear
whom height welcome
   letting me nibble on one or t'other ear
of yours, now trotting along on my yipping badinage
whim per with poetic trademark flair,

which doggerel seems unstoppable probably
from a malfunction milk bone shaped cerebral gear
aye attest trademark viz
   somewhat long wavy, course brown hair

might also involve well tangled follicular roots
affirming me to hear snapping jeer
ring boxer bullies, which floppy mop top in tandem
to firm undersized gluteus maximus or hmm rear
oft times incites other mongrels to stare

yet, the ability to camouflage
Ike **** sitter a bonus, akin to a camel lion
or if you prefer chameleon,
this trait stems when Aztec,
   my faux pas amidst Mayan

Runic ruins, where traipsing
   for long stretches of time
ah stopped to chat with Ryan
a local junkyard hound, which
   at human years over 100 keeps on tryin

to survive within
   dog eat horse meat world,
where canines sprang from wolverine zoo
and as a complete stranger introduced muss elf
as "man's best friend" to you

from a place in mind known as xandu
which could afford room enough for two
if ye would only stand or sit in this queue
similar to waiting in a cloistered pew

But better grab a place
   before places number few
from those who utter yabba dabba do.
I blithely admit not to be a stud
just a recent emigre hoisted himself out of the mud
from that antediluvian flood

like some garden variety muggle
   with a male member dud
but rather a regular bovine chewing his cud
and just wanna be a companionable bud.
no intent to be neither indecent nor lewd,

which rapid-fire reply
   helps my anxiety-riddled mood
unsure what level of interest exists
   toward this ordinary dude
for reasons and rhymes,
   i scratch my flea gnawed head and brood.
most people find my poetic attempts unclear

and get quite frazzled - with nostrils that flair
like some fire breathing dragon
   filled with rage and glare
all on account of human desire for friendship,

and some woman for me to care
which closeness worth
   far more than gems, jewels and trinkets
so...if a safe risk taking mood,
i would be interested for ye to share.

literary enjoyment and
   entertainment primary reason i write
from a little known wayfarer
that trawls the virtual seas this night

whereby my being pitched to and fro
which forces necessity
   to hold on with all me might.
care not for this playful male
ye seem quite desperate a guy to nail,

I could benefit from someone
to play the role of inxs bare naked lady
and super *****
   (ah bet she iz jist a cheap trick),
this jack rustle of no trades
   could enjoy a gal to hold his pale.
oh...fair and lovely princess

   in this surreal and virtual space
might thee put down the drawbridge
with mush ado of a quick pace
and no need to feign shock
   nor surround thyself
with defenses to brace
against some maliciousness on my part -

just a wandering troubadour able, eager, ready
willing to show his smart pedigreed fact sheet,
and maybe even other parts of his anatomy
with dignity and amazing grace.

Sangfroid persona makes joie de vivre
the perfect human to adopt, and more fun than a wii
ill that chased a monkey named zee
row, who aims tubby yar beau.
Most everything written
(and learned ya in school)
     Yukon **** sitter, (and bet
     your bottom dollar) tibia bunch
     of contrived information

     all details bu...bu...bull...low knee
     within this poetic missive
after spending a lifetime crunch
ching numbers, the following
     singularly just my hunch,

but despite minuscule
     approximate i.e. kid size lunch
meal, (sans two clenched fists,
     and weighing about 1.5 kilograms),
     not much to munch,

yet if smacked in the kisser
     by a pugilist visited
     square in the jaw deadly (Judy hush
     hiss) sucker punch
whereby the unlucky

     recipient may see "unlucky stars"
     after brows severely scrunched,
thee above poppycock, and potentially
    "FAKE" though (Ripley deed lee)
     believe able to ye,

nonetheless behooves me
to segue-way (by Segway) to pre
sent a "TRUE" revelation see
(gnome hatter, aye
     cheese silly contradict

     mice elf alias Stuart Little) prithee
please just accept what I write
     with a grain of salt
     (from the Sultan Sea),
cuz yawl do yarself grave

     injury and lodge a gree
vance against this harmless
right ham handed cree
chore from the outer limits
     of the twilight zone, thus

I STRONGLY ADVISE thee,
     NOT to stake eh knee
     un mensch chin hubble cogitation,
and figuratively swallow,
     hook, conga line

     and sinker thine highly suspect re
dunk yule us gobbledygook mee
cully (meekly) reed this
     more so asthma
     childish entertainment, hence oak key

jist put aside any urgent task
     to revel as sigh bee
devil logical syntax
     with sum man tricks
     playfully wasting yar

     precious time free
cully (freakily) inventing outlandish nee
incoherent yawping, towering,
     and brutally butchering,
Brooklyn speak (homer over

     mayor later mother), she
nearly always... er added
     letters "er" at'er the ender
her sentences - er stain?
Wk kortas Feb 2021
The fifteen-seater bounced and bobbled on the landing strip
(The arrival delayed a touch, as the single runway
Required one more scrape by the snow plow)
Coming to a more-or-less steady stop
For the brief but brisk and uncovered walk
To the crackerjack-box terminal,
Then, after the requisite tears and hugs,
Tumbling into the back seat of the ancient family truckster,
Driving in the dark past those houses and convenience stores
You assumed were still there,
Those changes to the lay of the land
(Subtle to those still around, downright abrupt
To folks who’d cast their lot elsewhere)
A thing resigned to the light of day,
And after the catching-up small talk
Devolved into the realm of the awkward,
You’d ducked out to head for the Cow Palace,
(The entrance to the bar still festooned with the sign
You must be this tall to drink at the bar,
Probably in its third generation of half-kidding)
For the just-a-couple-but-several-times-over,
Catching up on the particulars
As to who’d hooked up,
Who was no longer a couple
The general goings on in their circle
(But something lost in the translation,
Certain names not coming to immediate mind,
Certain nuances which now escaped him)
And come closing time they’d settled up
Then piled into Cully Scott’s ancient Lincoln
Eight of them all told,
Drunk as lords and high as kites,
Beyond legal or spiritual redemption,
Somehow not barging through some guard rail
And straight into the Kinzua Creek,
Pulling up to his front door just shy of four A-M.
He’d navigated to his room,
Which was spinning more than just a touch,
And when Sunday morning came,
His parents were unable to rouse him
(They’d half-jokingly checked for a pulse)
So they buttoned, zippered and scarfed themselves
In a manner befitting a bright but brisk January morning,
One of those days which moved you to opine
That it looked lovely from the warmth of the couch,
And as his parents departed for a warmed-over sermon
(Preacher’s handiwork endlessly re-cycled, after all;
Likely all involved able to repeat it word-for-word)
He’d remained under mounds of covers,
(Fast asleep, though he’d later remember
Beingly vaguely cognizant of the bells
Calling the faithful to services)
Sleeping the sleep of those
Resigned to lesser, somewhat intermittent epiphanies.
Classy J Jan 2016
To old to make much of a difference, To young to understand life's significance. To tired to awaken to my surroundings, To stressed to appreciate everything that is around me. To under appreciated by my colleagues, To determined to become just another person that has succumbed to being melon cully.  To over worked to see my good work, To entitled to enjoy all my perks. To needy for approval, To prideful to go back to faith and get a revival. To many things to do or to say, that I can no longer see that I have lost my way. Too much thoughts seep into my head, am I truly alive or am I just the walking dead.
Eleete j Muir Mar 2022
Life and Death form the grand spiral of time
To take heart, diamond or garlic, and cully sleep
Providing the baptism for the dead who will
Not understand the sword and sorcery of the
Eternal Tables avowed solipsism upon the astral
Realm of unmanifested being.
A deity twin-saviour, an ineffable Tuat
Child of the child- The axiom of the
Four Last Things; A fetch whom obsecrated
Anubis and Abraxas to combat the
Hell's on the one hand and to sustain
The Heaven's on the other,
An aletheia spirit return carrying a
Hand of Glory which licked the expanse
Carnal dust to link metempsychosis
Assignation and arise a spiritual gewiyya
That a saint in heaven would grieve to see.







ELEETE J MUIR
Friday the thirteenth, (September
tooth house hind nineteen)
dark shadows winessed scads of bats
(base sic cully lobbing soupy Matzo *****)

eyeing yours truly as seldom seen
human sacrificial cuisine,
which dime a dozen story true story
red within tabloid National Enquirer 'zine.

Minus blood ******* mammals more averse
than bill collectors or insurance companies
bared fangs greeted yours truly courtesy
of bloodthirsty nurse
triggering instantaneous qualm
ordinarily, I dune hot feel averse
nor nain availing one arm or the other,

wherein needle tip doth stick
prominent vein, yet an idling hearse
unwittingly induced heightened alarm,
on flip Wilson side... sense and sensibility

awoke regarding no impact upon purse
anyway death could never as worse
compared to hand to mouth
***** deeds done... dirt poor curse.

A deep inhalation induced relaxed state
courtesy ujjayi breath
filled lungs to alleviate
(yea right slim/fat chance analogous
to one sniveling, mutering, groveling...

writer wannabe called upon to curate)
quirky rhyming scribblings
attempting to pass muster
easily, joyfully, worthily...
declared poet laureate

hence hastily erected castle
in the sky fate
meeting divine heavenly lorded
tailor tete a tete

gradually alleviated helter skelter
mental condition within pate
experienced sudden calm
displaced initial panic, thus great
ecstasy donned "FAKE" trumpeting guise

knowing within short shrift
death would assimilate
me, while providing fancy feast
where Desmodontinae
would undulate

this vampire weekend,
aware I prevaricate
and horrible anecdote purely
meant to demonstrate
how believability easily
wrought to fascinate

(ha) captive audience,
he/she exhibiting skeptical trait
might doubt claim (mine), who as inmate
within human zoo forced to risk death
defying daredevil metier height
figurative tightrope walker I gyrate

balanced on iambic foot in toto
all the while able to coordinate
vaguely flowing continuity
eventually metaphorical
erythrocytes coagulate.
I'm searching for that long ago
When joy and youth was mine
My once upon a time
Memories I will never forgo
Reflecting,
I find different perspectives..
In the my worst and best days..
I don't need to know what the future's saying..
My hindsight says.
Because, if the past could talk it would give me these directives.

love yourself more
Believe in yourself to the core.

Stop trying to make everyone else happy.
You're not a puppy.

Eliminate toxic people from your life
They are particularly rife.

Where  passion, purpose and skill collides
Abundant bliss resides.

You are good enough!
Don't be afraid to voice out. Be tough!

Don't shy away from things that brings you out of your comfort zone.
You're not a lone.
Think rationally.. don't let your emotions
Control your decisions.
Never give into a bully.
Don't be  cully.
You're allowed to feel
But, if in the process you break..
Don't be an emotional wreck
You ...All by Yourself can heal
Thank you for teaching me to Keep my head held high
And the readiness to face any challenge that comes nigh

— The End —