Rosanna Danna Danna – Peas on Earth

Hi, I'm Rosanna Danna Danna
and I've got a complaint to make
I'm all for a good balanced meal
and all the vitamins you take

now I like my veggies
like them an awful lot
but think you should try different ones
not just the ones you got

like I'm always hearing someone say
why can't we just have Peas on Earth
I don't think that's fair at all
need other ones too to help control your girth

I mean what's wrong with yellow corn
and what about string beans too
they're chunk full of nutrients
and they taste real good in stew

you can put asparagus on a plate
cover it up with butter
even okra would be alright
do you think I stutter

I mean I just don't understand it
why is all about Peas
everywhere I go I hear
let's get down on our knees

and bow our heads in silent prayer
and make these special pleas
but I want something else
it's not just about these dam Peas

it just goes to show you
it's always something you see
people need to understand
it's not just only me

excuse me Rosanna,
I think you have it wrong
it's Peace, Peace on Earth
they've been talkin about all along

well then that's different
just you never mind
Peace is a real good thing
I hope it's something we find

Gomer LePoet...

I don't want a simple girl.
I want a madwoman.
A ***** who can stimulate my mind,
my very own Poison Ivy.
A catalyst for inner growth,
an extension of my Self.
I crave a woman unlike any other,
as complex as they come;
Whose beauty is the wisdom
of the Universe when sung--
in its native tongue. --[Love];)
I yearn for a woman..
just as intricate as I.
A Creator, a mountain mover,
a mindful singularity.
The woman who inspires me to be,
to write, to become great.
The only one I must impress.
She, who notices the subtleties
that go unspoken,
and the intricacies
that elude all other muses.
I seek the Love that enables.
The Love, that is Life, thriving.
I refuse to accept-- just any
ordinary household love.
I long for the synergy of mind,
of two souls entwined--
In a neurological nexus.
I pray..
for a symphony of Love,
with God as the composer,
where she and I,
comprise the notes,
to the Magnum Opus
of Divinity.

                                      -Elswer
                                      (Raziel Flores)

My thoughts circle in worry,
Dripping resentment and judgment
Into the purity of now.  Help me.
I know what I do, but I do and I do and I do.


Danna Evans

I used to say,
In a judgmental way,
This is what forty five looks like.
I used to preach,
In my ego speech,
Get bangs not Botox.
Be like me.
Be whole, be pure,
Being real is the cure.
Be like me.
But now I see,
How my judgments blinded me
Of who you are
While I hissed…be like me.
Now I see
What I missed…you are like me.
I am sorry sister.
I judged myself as true
And in turn I ended up judging you.
Forgive me.
For I am you and
You are me.

   Danna Evans

⭐Danna Sol⭐
✨By: D.E.T.✨

Who am I?
Somebody give me a sign?
Can anyone justify?
When I cry?
Can someone tell me what's my purpose ?
Why am I feelin' all nervous?
Maybe today will be my last time to face
This surface
As soon as I arrive
Home I'm goanna cry
But there is a problem (s)
Dropping on the bottom
And I don't think I can solve them
Yeah, I can see
That I'm about to bleed
All I need
Is to flee
Maybe all I need is breathe
Is fresh air
I'm on top of my head
Thinking I should be dead
So, I look at the bottle
Of pills I'm having trouble
Tell myself  can't do this anymore so, I wanna end this
Because I don't wanna pretend this
Soon as the pills pop
I drop
And my eyes close
I hear this echoes
Tellin' me I'm a waste
So, in this case
I'm getting myself out of this space
I wake up in the hospital
I'm feeling awful
All I can do is cry
In ask myself why
Life  gotta be so, hard
There's this blackboard
Telling me I can go forward
In I think I should do my revenge
So, yes I'm going through changes
So, I can stand on those stages
Yeah y'all goanna be in this cages
Lock up
Hook up
So, look up
This were my troubles
That I struggle
I kept my eyes open
Yet, I was hopeless
While I was choking
In y'all were joking
Yeah, you buddy
Don't feel so, lucky
Cause I'm gonna play my part
That's goanna be your heart
Yes, I'm talking to you  boy
Yeah, you are the toy
That I'm goanna enjoy
No, no one has a choice
Y'all are goanna run out of air
When y'all see this glare
I don't care
But I dare you
To come step on my shoe
I bet you
Will drop dead
All I feel is angry
Because all he felt was sorry
Yeah I'm mad at you
For not having a clue
How to glue
My shoe
And for putting me through
This blue mood
Soon as I walk out this door
I'm gonna ignore
Your words cause I declare war
Cause this is was you ask for
"War"
Yes, I'm looking at my yesterday
I was put in jeopardy
In y'all goanna get what you deserve
Cause you severe
What y'all gonna get
Is a hit
Fake girls
With fake pearls
You girls
Are goanna be collapsing
In I'm goanna be on the top laughing
Yeah, I'm goanna rip
Your ribs
So, y'all can feel what I felt
Yeah, my heart is already melt
Cause it's my turn to make y'all suffer
Yeah, I'm already tougher
Call me a monster
But know this I begin to get stronger
Just know the Lilly
You knew ain't the same
Maybe be the name
But when you see me furious
Y'all gonna take me serious
What came back was for my revenge
Yes, I want to see you on this cage
Cuz this is my revenge

OUT 4



Dave was his name and he plays rugby,

he wants to see you and share a drink with you.

Will that be all you share, as you see him every Thursday?

I know how these things work, two months as mates

“See you next Thursday Danna…” and then

you’re suddenly lovers.

He noticed me, the week before, needing to be with you.

Patience was his game and yourself was his cause

as he hatched his little plans.

Now he will think, when will she be mine?

I know it will work. All it takes is a little time.

OUT



So we went out to see a film, with cars and music:

The Fast and The Furious. It’s like old times, you know,

Nick and Danna, when we had that thing.

Now the film ends and we go to your house,

reality hits home in the usual way.

The bloke you met sends you a text “Hello beautiful…”

and then I know it’s time to leave.

The trauma starts as I realise, this is it,

it’s finally over and I have to move on.

reading a rupi kaur poem is
probably the most heart-breaking
"thing" in the morning -
on the play store bestseller list:
because afterwards
a sylvia plath poem:
somehow isn't -

                       somehow she managed
to pluck at a geisha garden
and has become all porcelain all
             crystalline ivory & frailty...
but that's not about my reading
habits in the morning...            
   it's more... more about...
how "we" could get away with
writing all our onomatopoeias in
katakana:

                        unless of course
there's the "problem" of C, L, U, Q / CK...
that's hooves on cobweb streets
trotting...                                        
     ­                  nonetheless:
                        i give you
          マンナ              ダンナ
    (manna                    ­      danna)
            i guess: imitation
                          games of a madonna
in a brothel -
which is not a brothel...
and everyone's favourite
             Berlusconi's take on
                         castanets & maracas i.e.
                  ぼんご                 ボンゴ

otherwise a narrative in three parts:
a. my grandfather died
b. i stopped drinking
c1. and i started walking marathons
   c2. from 118kg
                down to 106.5kg
                  circa 2 months...

otherwise a further narrative of:
not because i'll gladly go into
the necropolis with a bouquet
of fake carnations / chamomiles...
  although "in manus tuas" i could
sit crow esque pensive,
hunched: a shadow for a globe of
atlas (etc.)
            and **** that fickle
creature that's memory in vain...
thereby making love
sound like a breaking
                           of an accordion...

or i could like i already have
"play a game" of       ここ / そこ
                                               ソコ / ココオ
no necropolis...
    just the remains of a forest...
bedfords park...
            a healthy stick for the purpose
of knocking on trees...
an dry-white skull-yellow-morbid
obelisk - i.e. a dead tree...
homage - three times:
           thunck-plonk-pluckpug
no echo...
      thung-plong-plugpuck...
a minute of silence...
                evidently...
                      in searching of meaning:
beyond in havering county park
horses grazing -
        "once upon a time"
they'd be work horses on the till
  of the land...
            now sometimes saddled...
not even bothered to gallop...
          while we're still...
                   under the tyranny of
the thumb...
                 or thereby some "relief"...

perhaps just walking through
east london toward st. paul's
seeing so many pilgrims (i.e.
that's what i'd call lunatics)
                        talking to pigeons
                                      at stratford in
                    the morning...
one might do what i do
teasing augury -
       notably because of the crows,
notably because of swallows;
at least for the former -
when hades stirs -
                 and a yawn breaks
rank from the pits of crunch &
                        harrowing tooth domino...
there's me procrastinating
before the altar of a name, date(s)
but no epitaph...
    or there's me making said
pilgrimage to a dead tree obelisk
  with a healthy stick in hand...
knocking three times...
            perhaps to let the forest know
i'm there, i.e. "here"...
alas... exasperation is not:
a need for "haiku"... it's also not
some snobbery when...
you're actually not given much to
"work" with e.g. -cemetery

       better a fascination with
                                  japanese text...
e.g. 緑 (green)
                         ミドリ
      / hiragana is probably a misnomer
                 みどり
  / why wouldn't green be in kanji?
               but how midori:
                       either squiggly or squint-
                                       -ting          
                                         squin'
                                                          ­T'ing
is not in either katana / hiragana
set up the following primer, braille:

                                    ⠛⠗⠑⠑⠝
       ⠍⠊
       ⠙⠕
       ⠗⠊   (hangeul esque)
                          
is probably the only latin equivalent
i'd ever make a comparison with;

   p.s. ⠝ braille's N
          ל - a hebrew L"ament"...

at least it's more than a bothersome
post-colonial rhyming ****** & scheme
or a wannabe haiku /
                        writing toward hiatus;
or a ******* ron padgett prose poem
                     about drinking coffee...
for that matter: any poem about
drinking coffee;
                                          sober *****
morning gits,
            insufferable loved up 'toons.

IN



I now wonder, why it’s always this way the broken

heart and failed romance, it’s Nick and Danna.

Maybe now you know, I love you so

and I will pine away forever.

How can it have come to these silly games,

me putting an ad in this paper?

You have your Dave and so many more,

so will fate grant me a reprieve?

Will fate laugh and kick me when I’m down

or help me and make me strong?

All I know is that I want my life sorting

and no more emotional trauma.