I've starting speaking
To the walls again--
They tell me everything and nothing.
As I lose echoes decorating
Dander-lions with leaves.

I'm slow to the boil and takes a lot to **** me off.

WARNING: Stop reading if you dislike vents.

A truth we all know but WONT discuss IS race relations in America *****!!
How did it come to all this open bigotry and so many stupid racist comments?
****** shame that my race still don't get that ALL people are created equal.
Maybe other regions get it but not my area with it's tons of racists.
In my area people believe all blacks lie, steal, cheat, live in ghettos,
black is the wrong race and white is always right and superior. BULL!!!
I will never be ignorant and speak ignorance like I hear in my area
"Ship them back to Africa their homeland!"  
Wake up! Africa is everybody's motherland!!!  
My dander is up because stupid racist bogus flagged a video of a friend.
Not bad enough they call venues so the lady can't get a local gig or they
posted bogus mugshots of convicts on Craigslist faking it was her.....
ATTENTION people from Northern Michigan: YOU PEOPLE NEED TO
RETHINK WHAT YOU THINK AND SAY ABOUT MINORITIES!!!
****** she's proving she doesn't need Northern Michigan to get her music heard?
Calling venue to get her fired and lose jobs didn't stop her from singing.
You can't flag this and to remove like you did on Craigslist.
I stopped posting on Craigslist after all the **** talk about my friend.
She got targeted by ignorant racist assuming ALL black women are like the
Kerry Washington's character on Scandal. Betty's not a bed hopper and
she doesn't ***** around with married men. I can't speak for Kerry Washington.
Betty doesn't speak ghetto talk as my area calls it and she's not like the stereotypes
racist paint all blacks to be. Blew their minds that Betty's a hell of a lot smarter than
them and she's not lazy, ignorant or the N word they love calling blacks.
Fed up with the racism in my area, Northern Michigan and the nation.
****** because anonymous ignorant went to Youtube and flagged my friend
Betty Ponder's new G-rated video for inappropriate content and got it removed.
Inappropriate content my ***!

In Brooklyn, in these hectic times,
if Mom-hood gets you down
you need a little pick me up
so you won't fret and frown.

When we boomers were just babies
Mom might have a glass of wine.
Just enough to take the edge off
and leave her feeling fine.

But Generation X and Y
are more like Cheech and Chong
when baby gets your dander up
It's time to light a ****.

A little **** of Mary Jane
gives Moms a pause to sigh.
"Good night Moon" is a gripping read
when Mom is flying high.

Put the little Prince to bed
before Mom has a fit.
Motherhood is stressful
she just needs to take a "hit"

When the" little terrors" get you down
Just think - "this too will pass"
sneak off and roll yourself a joint
We know you have a stash.

Trees hold the deep earth together way below with crooked fingers of the underworld and catches foul above
Upward to the heavens on finger towers,
clapping on winds they shake their dander
And the makers of green bras on mountain tops

They are the landlords of ground,and air beasts, and
incumbent giants of the ages
They whisper being puppeteered by winds of old
They are the alchemists of oxygen
They are dangling playgrounds
They are the Autumn crunches beneath our feet

Trunk etchings by bards, trees reflecting
cultures' dissemination
We walk under penumbras that deny the scorch of summer
as cool water douses fire, so too, shade douses heat

Watching trees in my pleasant reverie I observe how they
help break the carpeted land, bringing about a  certain diversity in moving tranquility and rustling of their songs

I remember her distinctly,
she wore green flannel & cargo shorts,
Che cap & a stuck sunflower,
her braids exploded from under it.

She was proud of her antler-handled side knife
& jump boots, traipsed around
like she was on the nature boardwalk,
I heard she stalked Sasquatch once.

That girl was
the consummate outdoors woman,
she knew all about trapping,
skinning & first aid,
could make water
spring  from the ground.

Her grin was infectious,
a true aura of love hung
like dander around her,
her sensuality screamed
silently from her twinkling eyes,
the color of azure.

I was with her for one summer,
then I moved out of her sacred-valley.
Every time I look at the stars,
I remember her campfires
& the times we spent
at Moondipper
in each others arms
tasting marshmallows.

I'm that pretty kitty
Sitting on your windowsill
Leaving dander on the glass
Looking more than my fill

My fur is brown and black
My claws are sharp as knives
My teeth are quite sinister
And I've still all nine lives

You've never paid me much attention
And I ceased attempts to receive it long ago
You go about your day ignoring me
And I stare covetously through the window

I know you can see me
Every blue moon, you'll wave
We actually get along in a way
But not enough to sate all I crave

I wonder if you'll ever notice
My stare is unadulterated jealousy
But you never seem to notice
I also envy that naivety

But I'm just the pretty kitty
Perched up on this windowsill
All I want is to be seen from inside
But no one ever will

I've only eyes for the inside though
I've got my friends on this side of the glass
And they look at me, bemused and disgusted
Because, in all ways and forms, I'm obsessed

But I'm different and I'm on the wrong side
And I'm just the pretty kitty on the windowsill
But I'm not comfortable with my own kind
And with yours, I'm just good for visual appeal

So I'll sit here on this windowsill
Gazing enviously
Because neither side fits me
But it fits them perfectly

The FBI chief, Mr. Comey,
was loved by Trump like his best *****.
For he went around hintin'
about emails and Clinton,
making Trump fans excited and foamy.

But then Comey provided reflection
upon Trump aides and Russian connection.
Trump did protest and howl,
stamp his feet and cry foul,
for the tide has turned since the election.

Trump thinks Comey is guilty of slander,
though his Hillary probe raised no dander.
So I guess Trump's excuse
is what's good for the goose
simply does not apply to the gander!

So why Donald Trump am I hounding
through this verse and this poetic pounding?
It's Trump's hypocrisy
that so motivates me
and we're used to it!... That's what's astounding!

September has no pet dander like the midday sun.
it burrows into heaven's closet of Blue... and no one -
suspects the gremlin of Time, of feeding the stray
Reality. On the down low.
It's always-
" How You Like Meow ? "
or nothing at all.
and September

in the dark honey, the knees of bees and afterthoughts coagulate in burnt gold and warm blood.
the air is made of dander and random. the dog barks a virus you check for fleas. and the north star -
is violent. in the blemish of symmetry, the ruling class of ravens, flock to your discord,
they adorn your wretched gorgeous. they engorge the zenith
of your curse.
javelin happy, the stab behind the eye that sees too deep is delight's dagger !
the imminent ruse of a persistent Truth and an eternal Lie.
the  Macbeth in your chicken soup.

and the Soup.

I miss you.
and the sick satisfaction of adrenaline.
the openness of your pantry
and sensitivity to dander that remains solely to your house.

jovial but once this year
I have exiled myself to other islands
to watch in golden telescopes

some others fill the gaps in which I made
yet I’ll blame you
for my own banishment

I am a prime example
of brains before beauty
putting my heart on the lines of loose leaf

Serotonin production ceased when steam was industrialized
drown me, dopamine
save my friendship

it caught the corner
             of my eye

Pavlovian neck twist
jarring synapsis
                  tears followed

was it a ghost
or flickering dust particulate
                   sent me
                             crashing into your picture

sitting crisscross
considering memory’s place
longing to touch your finger
              

                               soft sunlight played
                               dog dander and field burn
                               swirled in the long evening

the radio crackled
long forgotten songs
        played on vinyl

once again they fell
    
                  Is today your birthday?
                  Anniversary?

numbers blur
last year’s calendar
still hangs
         rectangle wall stain

emotions wipe away
mental images persist
a face through the years

               suddenly I stand alone /

to a dusty shelf I aspire
collected among your beloved works
my spine illegible and creased
pages molded and dog eared
i rest eye level
in your drawing room

i was yours originally
as much as i was my own
no
i was written by a three greats something
a man and a woman
far removed from me now
and was lent to your three greats something
passed down to you
now found cloistered
three shelves down

as per the sensibility
of three greats aunt percy
you would expect the syllables
bound within me
to be replete with ratiocinative reminders
but my binding betrays me not
bloviative bacchanalian blabberings
are the texts contained beyond my cover
but you wouldnt know
the dust proves it

but i dont mind
purely delighted
to be covered in dander
and the skin that used to make you up
that i might be found when you need me
or that i might remain in your family
for at least one more generation
but
if you need a quick ten spot
if youre really hard up for cash
if. you. need. money.
i know a really cute used bookstore

I wonder what this world is coming to
When we have to overcomplicate everything
All I hear on the TV of late
Is ‘bare craic’ as my northern Irish friend would say –
“I can’t understand this  credit crunch,” she said
Poignantly, (neither could I) “I think I’ll take
A dander down to the shops.” And so she did
We were out of milk
And living off salami
I picked up the paper
And I realise nothing is without a price
Or a fate
They are the two certainties
So is death
And the price is not so hard to see either.
The American bigwigs sit round a table
Complaining what is to be done about the financial crisis?
Each eating a $16 dollar muffin with their $8.48 coffee
Wondering where oh where can money be saved?
And they’ll get back in their private limos
Drive past their second addresses
Back down to Bel-air
Lock themselves in their villas
Count their bonuses
And sleep happy
After doing jack ****.
While Greece is going down the crapper.
I can see the solution
Can you?
Or is it just me?
Or can you see it to?

Yellow plums with sweet
flesh and sour skin
bleed down chins and smell
of summer swims and sneezes.

Once upon a time, a girl.

The grass seed and tree pollen
and dust and pet dander
and prickly pinecones and banjo strings
and the transition between analog and synthetic,
between automatic and didactic.

Ears perk like dogs at impossible pitches
upon a hidden harmony, missed melodic movement
she stops mid-sentence to hear, listen not hear, listen
for the sounds buried under sounds
and other sounds
and tape distortion
and old speakers
and ambient noise
and the head voices
and the wind in the leaves.

Candle flames hiss on extinguishing breaths
sighing promises for future dividends
dancing in circles on hardwood floors
skirt breezes
hip shakes until it's too much
floor shakes until it's all fallen
borrowing thumbtacks and bringing it all
bringing it all down.

Far in the distance I can hear the bells tolling, ringing not tolling, ringing
in time with the sunrise blinking, winking
sharing a knowing promise for a better day tomorrow,
today not tomorrow, today.

I went to Walmart this morning - yes, it was very brave.
My dander was up - I was on high alert - for active shooters and the unmasked.

Then I saw him! A man on the cookie aisle - he looked like he had the monkeypox!
So I kicked him in the nuts and ran - you can’t be too careful out there.

It turns out that he was just an 80-year-old retiree wearing a polka-dot shirt.
I apologized - from a safe distance - as the paramedics carted him away.

It felt like a close call.

All sleeping, Ignorance reaping:
The few, trust their own reasoning,
Their own skill, their our perception,
Good will, forsaken honesty; always has a bad reception.

All sleeping, Ignorance reaping:
The few, trust their own reasoning,
Think layers of lies and deception,
Yet one must deceive self first, before entering misconceptions,

Abysses, crevices, all live for slander,
No dept, yet stuck in a hole: happily they dander,
Are we humans or still Netherlanders?
In our evil world:
None take responsibility, all "innocent" bystanders?

At this level, is there anything more?
Ask questions, don't seek the answers, wait there's more:
All sleeping, Ignorance reaping:
Who are we awakening, for whom are we weeping?

She plucked his fingernails
            gently out,

                 he loves me,

                                  He
                             loves
                        me

not..

The pollen of love filtered from
            everyone discarded..

Pulses raised with
each one
           harvested.

The dander was sodden,
               but still she needed to
know..

Does he love me, does he not...

And after every petal was gently
                                        discarded,

You thought that the only way
                 to no was to cut the stem..

Looking to his surroundings,
            a jar of nails...

How many had been planted here
                                               before..

Like a daffodil popping off,
                        she was out cold..

He'd been like a seed floating in the air,
       what some would catch to place a wish.
                          his was to land upon her jaw.

                                              He fell,
the roots that bonded him fallen.
            And he ran out in to the wilderness.

Floating in and out of consciousness,
                                       but he was free..

A short stroll up a lonely lane
Wild flowers filling the hedges,
Romancing our eyes
And flirting with our noses.
Inquisitive cows
Leaning over rickety gates
To better inspect us interlopers.
A broken path,
Crevices straining to trip us up.
A five minute dander for us.
A dangerous adventure in unexplored territories for them.

dollops of dander
mighty mousers meander—
cats with cattitude


© 2020 Mark Toney.  All rights reserved.

".Nothing is what it seems, what we see is just a mirage, what lies underneath, is the truth."

What do you see when you look at me
Harmless dog that I am
Fawning at your feet
Piddling all over myself to please you
This shabby mongrel you shoo from your table
Haughty in your pedigreed inclinations
Wipe my spit and dander from your petaled hands
I am nothing but a casual diversion
Banished from your hearth
Steward the beautiful things that catch your eye
Chain me up out of sight
I will always adore you

You cast this sadness
whips of words against my hide
I bleed out in the shadows
You've made me crazy
When all I wanted was your love
Curled up next to you
But you were too ashamed to let me in
Now here we are
My teeth in your throat
Your personal henchman
A killing machine calibrated
By your hatred
Surprise in your failing eyes
I would have rather died for you
But you left me to my own devices
I cannot stop myself
From survival
behind the mask of civility
Perhaps I've always been
A monster of your own creation
I can taste your poison
Beauty only the cast
Shadow on your surface
Tear the mask from your face
I cannot bear to see
Another monster staring back at me...

TLBoehm
05/21/10

Retreating from
  weighty day of toil
I settle my slack
  on tailored sprawl of lawn
Compressed soil radiating ;
  tapped battery
  of a day's warmth
Life is raised through my cartridge
  I stretch out
  receiving reptile charge

Aimed shyly
   at the expansive dark bedding of night sky
     speckled
         pierced
     pecked at with pinholes...
each emitting brilliance
firing out fuel
  exhaust from further worlds
                less adulterated than our own

There is a correspondence
  amongst the insects in the grass
  ticking, clicks and tats
  like static amongst laundry
There's a great correspondence out there
  in the night sky

here am
   invulnerable human
    suburban and secure
   belly...

a cross draft
   from the open basement window
              invades me
eggy sulphur burping from the drains
an organic degassing from below my house

: Betrayed ! 

my feeling passes
the stars behave stagnant
       and dismissive of me
; withholding glove oblivion ;
the clouds step in
  like a quick curtain
  over some 'lewd private show'
(must I pay more
                  to see more ?)
My world is kept restrictive
; a muzzling

I bare the weight still
      of the days wetter ill
Better off indoors
        filtered
            of my own dander
and projected upon
        by a feeding screen

Wild onion giving the wind away , a rebellious occidental gust ever so
slightly ringing the farm bell today ...Pie pans throwing sun lit reflections over untilled plats of earth , pine tree music with every ****** of air , every tantalizing breath .. The blue eye with contrails , the scraggily hair of a stray dog in every direction , walking coarse skin , high stepping all manner of human corruption and dander , feeling a bit parasitic about the whole encounter . Mans tug on the world , his greedy self proclaimed domineering attitude , the forest of March will prove to be a glimpse of July in a world of unchecked destruction and denial ..A Red Hawk passionately concurred with my write as I left the pine grove for home this night ..