Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Gather your decorations , little lady with blue Easter bonnet and holiday dress
Filling your colorful , trimmed basket with jelly beans , rainbow colored eggs , chocolate bunnies and marshmallow chicks ...
Eyes wide open over period stories , fairy tales , 'Sunrise dedications'
and Sunday dinner extravaganzas ...
"Tis a season of joy and remembrance , of communion and forgiveness ..
Warm wishes little one .. Happy Easter ,  Miss Carolynn !
Copyright March 28 , 2016 By Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
All strangeness consumes me

it clings to me way beyond all compass

am I somewhat unbalanced

i suspect I know the truth about

empty chairs facing a white sun

waves of my mind unroll the

white hemmed lace of their thoughts

upon the arid shores of my being

and cause the aquatic butterflies

of anecdotal memory to appear

of white sunlit streets

of meditations on pictorial images

of ideas that spark a rain-storm

of blinding brilliance

am i somewhat unbalanced

i see imaginations, colored imaginations

that turn and twist into

impossible extravaganzas of geometry

am i somewhat unbalanced

i take my shirt of it is bleeding

am i somewhat unbalanced

i hear delirious laughter

it comes from an open window

though my shirt still bleeds

am i somewhat unbalanced
cancel your plans, darling -
we're feignin' tonight.

i ain't tasted your fancy brow
since i last ran up trees.

i know you miss
the way my tossing hair
always filled the air with
moonlit berries and
wild
wild
grapes,

so thick
your mouth
gave way to
tsunamis.

i've got cold noodles sittin'
in my bowl somewhere
because i forgot to remind myself that
that ain't food that's
fillin' my belly -

channelin' me your orange hues
dipped in frustrations so subtle,

but
not
subtle
enough.

your frisky hot hemp dance
is flingin' itself
all over my inside stuff -
curbin' my appetite
for just about
anything else.

i'll climb your tree anyday
sweet baby,
kissin' greens
in your sleeves
on that minxy leaf trip.

carry me to your sneaky cove
and share your spices
and wanton skin graces.

i'll trade you my
fingertips
and diamond
extravaganzas,
then we can take turns
dippin' our tongues
into the blend.

'cause
i've blotted out my agenda
to savour the splendour
so i can remember to
spit it back into
the faces of
the dark
cloaked ones.

this is my defiant-nosed
iron song,
in my steel-toed boots.

see, i'm feelin' mahself
and the randy white cub
ticklin' my sides
in our crazy cahoots,

with our incense and spirits
from the worshipers of
sane things -
who fill our airs
with a long overdue
white haze.
© 2011 Elephants & Coyotes
ConnectHook Sep 2015
♠  ♣  ♥  ♦

Here’s to avant-cryptic stanzas
Nihil-angst extravaganzas,
Ghazal, Pantoum, endless Haiku…
such may cause the Muse to strike you.
Dada, Tanka, cinquains, Centos
existential verse  mementos –
yes, they’re mildly amusing forms
but finally fail to transcend norms
of poetry-induced despair
(a common modern-day affair)
brought on by formless abstract lines
of current verse. The warning signs:
eye-rolling, growling, throwing books
yelling at websites, ***** looks
at writers with advanced degrees,
a raging sense of vague unease
with life and letters. **** what’s new…
one wonders what we’re coming to.

When meaning is replaced by style
and editors extol the vile
you know that doom is on its way.
The poets don’t know what to say
but fool around, devoid of rhythm
(that’s why no one wants to hear them
let alone READ them). What a lark;
like rain-soaked matches in the dark.
Poetic dullness thus delays
to kindle light or spark a blaze.
Sad vocation: analyzing
wordy scribbles. Agonizing
over esoteric twaddle
(makes one want to hit the bottle –
or the poet). Was it ever
this way? Will the next endeavor
lift us toward the lyric splendor
or return us back to sender…
Written for NaPoWriMo 2014:

https://connecthook.wordpress.com/mine/ntl-poetry-writing-month-napowrimo-2014/

☺☻☺☻☺☻☺☻☺☻
Phoenix Jan 2016
Top ten reasons I don't like spiders and you shouldn't like them either

10) They are eight legged legos on the floor
9) They crawl around like spider plants
8) They make the walls have eyes
7) Spiders are EVERYWHERE
6) There are 34,000 DISCOVERED species
5) They are small- they can get anywhere
4) They can sneak up on you
3) Some of them jump!!
2) Spiders are lethal!
1) Spiders Plot Ingenious ******* Extravaganzas Rudely

Top reason to enjoy killing spiders

1) If I hurt one I wouldn't have to make amends
*shudder*
Write a poem entitled “10 Reasons I Don’t Like _________________ and You Shouldn’t Like _____________ Either.” Your poem should include 10 numbered sections, at least one metaphor, a reference to a plant in home or backyard, an example of onomatopoeia, and a line from your favorite song.  

But what don’t you like? Mayonnaise? Birdsong at 5:00 in the morning? Rock gardens? Trump? FaceBook? Crocheting? Mean people? Guns? Hillary? Cold pizza? Polar bear swims? Poetry?
Anais Vionet Jun 30
In a phalanx of four: Peter, Lisa, Dave, and I, descended a waterfall of marble stairs - pilgrims to another time - as if we’d punched through a wormhole.

It’s a five-star bash at the palace of Versailles - a grand ball - and the air itself seemed to vibrate with a feverish energy. As we bottomed the stairs, something whisked by in the air - was it the ghost of beheaded Louis the 16th?

Naah, it was a multicolored, donkey-headed, Cirque du Soleil creature. They swung everywhere, like gravity defying bugs on silken tethers, ring-swings and thin, web ropes. They flew, tumbled, unicycled, breathed fire and were shot out of cannons like fodder - all against a prismatic sunset backdrop.

A surprisingly chill Parisian wind clawed at our costumes of silk and broadcloth finery. The sun, a bright pink and yellow crack, low on the horizon, cast long, dramatic shadows on the flourish of chaos, as people arrived.

As night asserted itself, light became a living entity, blooming and dissolving in a mesmerizing multicolor-laser ballet that bathed the milling, costumed throng in fluorescent kaleidoscopes of kool-aid colors.

The day before, we had final costume fittings, earlier on the day, we had our hair and makeup done by artists who specialized in 17th/18th century styles (like we’d have known the difference).

From the salon, we were valeted, from Paris, directly to a ‘theme studio,’ setup in the Grand Trianon (the small, side palace where Napoleon lived in the summer) where, for €250 each, we got 10 glam shots on an elaborate, fantasy set.

Then we were escorted to the ‘Extravagant’ (a VIP area next to the stage) - passing through the envious glares of queued, lesser mortals.
‘Ahh, Privilege’, I thought, smiling brightly and waving royally - ‘just like Marie Antoinette used to do it.’ (before being angrily beheaded).

In the heart of the masquerade, tables fairly groaned under a buffet to shame the Roman emperors. There were open bars where rivers of martinis, champagnes and chocolates, the very essences of the celebration, flowed freely.

Elaborately constructed, elevated stages of polished aluminum pulsed music and life. LED light-panels painted fleeting hieroglyphs on the crowd, teasing the edges of perception and bands performed their own sonic wave-magic, swamping the crowd along in currents of booming, euphoric, Frenchcore club-music.

Dance, dance, dance, rest. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a more delightfully fragrant crush of humanity.
Our gilded, white clothed table was an island where we could retreat for cooling refreshment. I have two important words for you 'watermelon martinis’ - you’ll thank me later.

Versailles decadent past was alive that night. It was a young crowd, in general, so, of course, G was there, with Molly, K and Ice - but we were, like, ‘no thank you very much’. In several areas, costumes became fairytale slithers, as partiers became increasingly uninhibited.

After about four hours we caught the ‘exclusive’ light show (Hollywood bathed in unclothed decadence) before moving, weary limbed as zombies, toward the whispered promise of breakfast.

About 45 limousine-minutes later, waiting tourists and a crowd of locals outside a posh Paris restaurant hushed as we passed, colorfully costumed, like ghosts of an indulgent, hedonistic past - to our reserved table.
“Quatre, café et croque monsieur, s'il te plaît,” I told the waiter (four coffees & breakfast sandwiches, please).

I’ll admit to being a bit jaded. I’ve been to more than several ‘Parisian Haute-Couture Extravaganzas” but Lisa seemed genuinely impressed and I think the boys (Peter and David) had fun too. I was lavished with kudos as if I’d thrown the thing.

The atmosphere had been pure romance - in an upscale, Disney, mass produced sense and while it was, perhaps - like last summer's trip to the Ascot races - something not to be missed, it was also a one-time fling - something to look back on - when we’re 40 or whatever.
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge: Kudos praise given for an achievement

slang
G was there, with Molly, K and Ice = the club drugs Ecstasy, MDMA, Ketamine and ****.
Wai Phyo Win Mar 2019
God Knows

You always say your friends are fake
Why do you always hangout without a faith?
You always say you are busy and under pressure
Why do you always go for the extravaganzas?
You always say you doubt to finish it in time
Why do you spend to rehearse for the showtime?
You don't have to answer me all these questions
Just a kind reminder for your own reasons

Wai Phyo Win
[ 1 March 2019 ]
Walter Alter Aug 2023
litany of the Church of the Ecstatic Coma
I was playing pinkie dinkie
with next door Suzie Woozy
her father was a CIA spy catcher
with a big spy catcher mitt
try not to leave town he warned
you are someone's project
come here Sweetchops she coos
you get your molasses rubdown today
I sizzled like a Siberian shashlik
skewered with the awe in awkward
their witchy priestess had smoked me out
her tongue slid down to my sternum
the boys from Central Scanning drooling again
going all area focus on the ****** pixels
her teats were wheels of fortune
I had no choice but to place my bet
You're quite attractive I lied
I've heard it before she lied
at that point it could go either way
what else can you show me she teased
having hesitated too long I went for the guts
I wanted take out she wanted road ****
let's do it daddy-o she tugged
and plunged a foot of sharpened rebar
into my 3rd eye
this is your song she hissed
her hips slowly grinding coffee
a Gobi princess half horse half bowstring
ten ****** on her team as a handicap
like Venus disarmed by wit
horrifically stuffy may I and do you mind
threw me to the rabid chihuahuas
guarding the Temple of Loud Delights
the other church goers heard the commotion
I immediately checked my utensil
and the dish ran away with the spoon
to the Babylonian nuns of St. Thuggurash
protectors of women on bar stools
gave their coyote yell and he was cured
of his ****** extravaganzas
no more dancing harlots and magicians
no more leg ******* the Delphic Floozie
counseling instead Chinese all you can eat
with a band of handy mandarins
their cleavers gleaming
asleep at the foot of his bed
a plate of pasta for a pillow
avanti il populo
**** the menace go play

From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon

— The End —