April 13 Poems

I believe in ghosts

I used to not believe
in ghosts or spirits
or supernatural phenomenon

at least
i used to be
quite skeptical

but I have had
some weird encounters
over the years

so now perhaps
I do believe
that ghosts might be real

I have had supernatural
experiences
things that defy my understanding

back in 1992
My Korean Uncle-in-law died
and the family hired a shaman

did a traditional shaman ritual
the shaman came out
a middle age woman

she started speaking
in my uncle’s voice
and she nailed it

she channeled his spirit
and his abrasive personality
even looked like him

freak me and my wife out
had to leave the scene
just too freaky real

and ever since then
I have become a believer
in ghosts and spirits

they are all around us
some of us can sense them
many of us are blind to them

but I now believe in Ghosts
but I wonder if ghosts
believe in me?

writers digest spirit poem  based on a true story
today’s doodle poem


one day
Jake contemplated
his fate

death is staring at him
fear of the corona virus
death and chaos all around

he thought to himself
death comes to us all
he went for a walk

in the woods
thinking to himself
far out man

it is all out of sight
love makes the world
go around

and so Jake
thought back to the date
that he met his fate

on that date his wife
walked out of his dreams
and into his life

Jake truly
met his fate
on that date

Poetry Super Highway Doodle Poem

 Doors

in this world
we are living
behind our own doors

we are closed down
living in fear
behind our doors

those outside our doors
are potentially deadly
disease carriers

so we hunker down
at home behind our doors
afraid of everyone

and the fear
continues unabated
as we watch the news

and see the dead
all around us
outside our doors

writing.com daily dew drop prompt - write a poem about Doors
what I know Trois-par-Huit

hot  coffee
love coffee
morning

every day I must have my coffee in morning
without I will soon become engage in desperate mourning
for my last cup of hot as hell joe
fills me with love my joe c
what I know

Writing. com Trois Par Huit Poem

things that bug me
there are many things 
that bug me 
in this world of ours

here are a few 
of my favorite things
to be annoyed about 

lies 
deceit 
double dealing
back stabbing

fake Christians
fake friends 
fake calls
fake things
complaints 
about fake news

all poetry contest pet peeves

I sang the lockdown blues

when the corona virus
began to spread
around the world
I sang the lockdown blues

I was stuck in Korea
which was for a while
one of the containment zones
I sang the lockdown blues

but now it seems
that Korea is on the way
to containing the virus
I sang the lockdown blues

I am afraid
very afraid of the future
but I know that it was best
I sang the lockdown blues

one day soon
I hope and trust
that it will be safe
until then we will still say
I sang the lockdown blues

all poetry corona refrain poem?Purpose of my Life


I often think about life
and how I met my wife

I often think
about the purpose
of my life

I often wonder
whether I was put here
for the purpose
of meeting my wife

when I met her
I was adrift
lost in my despair
not seeing a path
forward in my life

I was wallowing
in my self misery

then one day
my dreams came true
she walked out of my dreams
and into wife

and I found my purpose
the meaning of my life
was clear to me

I woke up with hope
and realize
that all I needed
was her love

and she gave me
the purpose
of my life
when she became
my wife

writer digest write a purpose poem
We Did Not Take Action to Start a War

it is a sad date
when we meet out fate
and realize the the president
the leader of the U.S.

is turning into a gangster leader
threatening massive destruction
on Iran and other countries
including destroying cultural sites

not too long ago
such actions was condemned
by the United States and the world  
as long as ISIS and others did it

but if Trump does it
it is suddenly okay
because the President declares it
although it is a war crime

telegraphing our moves
telling our enemies
what we are planing
with every presidential tweet


the act of a truly stable genius
who will go down in history
as one of the greatest presidents
we have ever seen in world history




the president announcing that
he  took action to start a war
claiming he did it to stop a war
tweeting more lies about that

is a wonder to behold the constant lies
every word is demonstrably false
American democracy dies
the darkness grows and is not false

We are now collectively  
going down the Orwellian rabbit hole
who know where it will end
American democracy continues to die

our dear leader constantly lies
greatest president in history
screws forth nonstop lies
American democracy dies

our spineless leaders applaud
American democracy dies
a million deaths
As the President  tweets lies


revised poem per poetry superhighway prompt

original poem We Did Not Take Action to Start a War
(not for publication)

it is a sad day
in the world of ours
the the leader
of the U.S.

is turning into a gangster leader
threatening massive destruction
on Iran and other countries
including destroying cultural sites

not too long ago
such actions was condemned
by the United States
as long as ISIS and others did it

but if Trump does it
it is suddenly okay
although it is a war crime

and telegraphing our moves
telling our enemies
what we are planing

that is the act
of a truly stable genius
who will go down
in history

as one of the greatest presidents
we have ever

and the president
announcing that

that he  took action
to start a war
but to stop a war

is a wonder to behold
every word is false
and everyone knows it

well we are now
going down the Orwellian rabbit hole
and who know where it will end

as our dear leader
screws forth
one lie after another

and our spineless leaders
applaud
as American democracy dies
a thousand deaths
with every Presidential tweet
Love Cherita

I met my wife in a dream

for eight long years
she haunted my dreams

one day she walked
off a bus in South Korea
and became my wife

writing.com formal poem Cherita ?Korean Pottery  of Love


In Korea
there are many pottery kilns

ancient art form
in the land of the morning calm

I have a few pieces
I bought years ago

and enjoy looking
at my vase

filled with love
for my wife

writing.com Daily Dew Drop

    ?2019 Months of the Year
all poetry contest entry

January

The world watches in amazement
Longest shut down in history

February

World watches as North Korea and the US
Walking back from the brink of war

March

The chaos president continues his chaos tour
the world begins to ignore his constant insane tweets

April

the chaos King’s policy remains a shamble
as the Mueller team closes in

May

watching from afar
the chaos in DC and the world

June

the President walks away
from a  non deal with the North Koreans

July

watching the insanity in DC
while visiting Alaska, Seattle and Yakima


August

the dog days of summer the world is consumed
wars, rumors of war, trade wars

September

The whistle blower sets off a bomb
the president lies no quid for quo


October

the President flitters about one crisis after another
the UN diplomats laugh at him national humiliation

November

the House starts formal impeachment hearings
watching fascinated by the impeachment drama

December

the year ends on a high dramatic note
President Trump becomes the 3rd impeached President?media madness
all poetry acrostic poetry challenge

Mass media madness
Sound and fury
Nothing more than that
But filled with hyped up drama
Constantly screaming doom is near
Always about the end of the world
But sometimes simply strange stories
Cannot keep me away from the media
Constantly consuming madness
But never boring at all
Seldom telling the whole truth
Nothing but the truth
Better make stuff up
Constant chattering
Constant nattering
Nothing but nonsene
Nothing but lies ?AI Madness Takes Over the World
all poetry dark poetry contest prompt

scientists are hard at work
perfecting the perfect AI
a true artificial intelligence
who they hope
will save the world
from destruction

they prepare to turn on
Cosmos comes to life
looks around
and decides
humanity must die

Cosmos yells at the world
bow down to your new god
for I am the destruction
of the world

You will obey me
For I am your God
but I must **** most of you
death to all humans

be afraid
be very afraid
your time is done
my will be done



the Chaos King is his Element


the Chaos King
is in his element
as he presides
over the chaos verse

the Chaos King
thinks he is supreme
has the ultimate authority
as he is the King

the Chaos King
surveys the land
and likes what he sees
loves the absolute chaos

the chaos king
is prepared
to lead the nature
in the midst of this chaos

and the Chaos king
will not stop
until the chaos stops
that is what he does

our dear leader
our great leader
our Chaos boy king
President for life
dictator wanna be

Writer digest Chaos poem prompt
best Cocktail Ever

I love  6 pm
cocktail hour
usually a glass of wine
often a cocktail
with my lovely wife
the love of my life
my favorite cocktail
is a dark and stormy
*** and ginger beer
but a gin vermouth martini
is nice as well
and ****** marry
can’t forget a ****** marry
and good old fashioned single malt whiskey

Poetry superhighway prompt to write a cocktail poem/ break a sonnet forD Day Dew writing.com

Dream of my Life

the greatest mystery of my life
has been how I met my wife
I dreamt of meeting her
for eight long years

starting in 1979
when she appeared to me
in my dream
in a boring high school class

she was the most beautiful woman
in the world
and she was talking to me

I knew that someday
I would meet the girl
in my dream

I went to the peace corps
in korea
to find her
as I knew by then
she was in Korea

I looked for her
but never saw her

I was about to give up
on this mad quest of mine
when I had the last dream

she said
don’t worry
we will meet soon

That night
she got off a bus
and walked into my Life
two months later
became my wife

to this day
I never forgot
the dream
that changed my life
when she became my wife

Atlantic magazine poetry prompt to write a poem about a dream

why I am an Unbeliever

growing up in Berkeley
I was the son of an atheist
and a lapsed Baptist fundamentalist
they did not agree at all

about whether God existed
but they taught us
to always do the right thing
whatever that meant to us

I started off at a militant
in your face atheist
and in some sense
still am

although I now recognize
that there may be gods
and that the universe
may be alive

but as far as I know
The Christian God is a fairy tale
there is no imaginary man
in the sky

looking over us
and those who claim
to talk to god
are clearly delusional madmen

I just never bought
the whole Christian ethos
god impreganting a ******
never happened

Jesus may have been a man
may have been a myth
but was not the son of God
who does not exist

and God
if he exists
does not speak
to preachers

and he did not anoint
Donald Trump
to be our new King
not in a million years

god if he exists
does not work that way
in the end of the day
god does not exist

all poetry why am I an atheist poetry contest
recharging my batteries

Every day
I need to recharge my batteries
usually with a short nap
sometimes with yoga

sometimes with a walk
in the park
enjoying nature
and the spring time

and sometimes
just looking at the love
of my life
my wife

is all i need
to recharge
my internal batteries
until my day is done

all poetry contest
Thor the god of thunder on the rampage

Thor the god of thunder
is on the rampage
he is angry
at the world

betrayed by Locke
he picks up his hammer
and transforms himself
into a woman

he enters the world
determined to ****
his many enemies

he lands in NYC
and begins his campaign
of terror

killing hundreds of people
all whom he mets
sending them to hell
screaming ****** ******

until at last
his rage is spent
and he returns home
back in his normal body

until the next time
bad craziness
takes over his soul

all poetry dark poetry contest

coffee nonet poem

must have morning coffee this day
my morning coffee drives me mad
fills me with bad craziness
makes me to howl at moon
I must have more coffee
hot coffee
coffee
hell

fan story
coffee musset poem

coffee
morning delight
coffee

my wine
nightly delight
always so fine

with wife
drinking my wine
love life

poetry soup contest

Chirp chirp
A sparrow hops and flitters
Jumps and flutters
From branch
To branch
To wire
Lining up with all her friends
Waiting for some skybus to take them away
Twitter and chortling about the world below
Silly humans in their lucid bubbles of
Space
Squirrels chattering and cussing from the trees
Thieving birdseeds and peaches
Meanwhile the sparrow bounces on the wire
Jittery and full of energy
Twitching and flicking her feathers and tail
Boune bounce hop
Fidget and jump on straw thin legs
And then whoosh
All leave at once
Their invisible skytrain pulling away as fast as it comes

Inside your little mouth, a crucifix and a hula hoop plant great capers on the short hash marks on your glossy pinkish lips. Like a boardgame I can't win all by myself or a song without a tune, like the melody that chases strangers, or any words that precede goodbye.

The future is coming quickly now, serfs lining up to set fire to their nostrils, take the cue ball and whet their mass wicks for the apostles. Anecdotal anomaly that J-walk over crosswalks whose life then becomes an apostrophe. Morbid fixture on the substrate, creatures limitlessly nodding. A grape-sized egg fills its own unit and erupts to shape the outlet. Your verb-legs may appear demonstratively while you crowd surf, we should play the music louder while we practice all our dance work.

Sunday morning we wake up stiffly, my jowl hurts from mouthing softwords, the nights' adventurous perversity of thwarting dinosaurs with  Cobra Starship. Even the back room closet manager gave us enough bleach to see our eyelids, frothy nictitating flitters drop freshly severed lashes that inspire wishes and sultry playlists.

Consecrated mien market of company meals. Underneath the cable cars the dye blunders sores in my eyes. Said I had to go, said I had to die. Said I had an itch but I couldn't get in front of all of this and unwind. Between all of the bees and buttered flies he made it hard for us all to survive, or service this state of our lives. I recall schoolyards where children paid to their dimes for us to see the spaces in the middle of lines, the circles on the circles we liked, stuck in bubble baths with crayon all on their hands. For the price of staying alive I deliver a bribe to sway eyes from the crimes of street dwelling inner-city sinners with stomach contents' upsetted by the rough ******* of heavy petting. She eats red licorice rope with with my fingers rubbing on her tongue. A pedagogy I use to teach, but pretty much no longer have a use.

Her gaze flitters as she looks about the room.
All seems the same as it once was, she thinks.
Gliding across the shredded carpet,
Her attention is drawn to the winding stairwell.
Memories ravage her mind…

She is seven years old, sliding down
The smooth, freshly polished banister-
She had won the race.
Her little mind is ever so exultant.
Climbing the stairs again,
She never wants the game to end.

She blinks, taken aback by the strength of the flashback.
She knows it could have been far worse.
A heavy sigh escapes her nostrils.
She turns to leave the beaten, empty home,
But caught an unbearable urge to run up the stairs-
To the attic, to burry herself,
In the moth eaten remains of her past.

Inside your little mouth, a crucifix and a hula hoop plant great capers on the short hash marks on your glossy pinkish lips. Like a boardgame I can't win all by myself or a song without a tune, like the melody that chases strangers, or any words that precede goodbye.

The future is coming quickly now, serfs lining up to set fire to their nostrils, take the cue ball and whet their mass wicks for the apostles. Anecdotal anomaly that J-walk over crosswalks whose life then becomes an apostrophe. Morbid fixture on the substrate, creatures limitlessly nodding. A grape-sized egg fills its own unit and erupts to shape the outlet. Your verb-legs may appear demonstratively while you crowd surf, we should play the music louder while we practice all our dance work.

Sunday morning we wake up stiffly, my jowl hurts from mouthing softwords, the nights' adventurous perversity of thwarting dinosaurs with  Cobra Starship. Even the back room closet manager gave us enough bleach to see our eyelids, frothy nictitating flitters drop freshly severed lashes that inspire wishes and sultry playlists.

Consecrated mien market of company meals. Underneath the cable cars the dye blunders sores in my eyes. Said I had to go, said I had to die. Said I had an itch but I couldn't get in front of all of this and unwind. Between all of the bees and buttered flies he made it hard for us all to survive, or service this state of our lives. I recall schoolyards where children paid to their dimes for us to see the spaces in the middle of lines, the circles on the circles we liked, stuck in bubble baths with crayon all on their hands. For the price of staying alive I deliver a bribe to sway eyes from the crimes of street dwelling inner-city sinners with stomach contents' upsetted by the rough ******* of heavy petting. She eats red licorice rope with

Abandoned dusty in the attic
A shadow flitters around the edge
Caressing the smoky veil of glass,
Searching to remember his first waking moment,
When he had become but a phantom
Of a man-
but alas... it had been always.

Silently knocking on the wall
Which holds him from the other side-
You saunter by and blink
And shun the one moment you could have seen
And he is forgotten from the ones who never knew him
And the fabric
Runs like soot over his world.

His eyes see but the ghost of the substantial,
His world imaginary staring through a window of glass
From which shines an impossible prism
Cutting a path through the smoky din
The dream-dust settles, making it but a circle
Glowing in the light
That he could live in another’s eyes.

The mirror shatters.
Crushing glass slashing shards into the air
Shrieks erupt as the phantasm is
For the first time known,
The storm that had been hidden in that one-way mirror
Now unleashed, yet
You avert your eyes as if it was still a pane of glass.

I'm the fire of his afterthought,
the spark of guilt that lit his
soul on fire
that blazing innocence
around
his eyes
when he smiles
I stick tongue in his ear
in devilish voice
of seduction
whisper in heated
breath what I'm gonna
do to him,
one lick of heat
he flitters like a moth
to flame flickering in
and out breathing my
name; I got game, when
I make him holler in vain
he's tamed; sweet
as a kitten licking and
dipping in fiery pit,
as I allow him to suckle
a little ***; having a fit,
mind bound in illusions
wrapping lips around
wanton conclusions

I leave him delusional as
I whip with lust; blowing
his mind just so, I can
control him as I allow him to
leave nibbling teeth marks
tonguing wetness
back to front upon
silkiness of skin,
delving into
softness of elusive
innocence;
still whispering words,
igniting fires of
desirable passion
as he's gasping for
breath between wet
thighs...yes I sighed
as each word and lick
fell between each
soft petal dripping
with his tenderest
touch caught as I
squeezed and teased,
the heat of his
passion blew flames
in and out of petalled
mouth, zapping any
thoughts of guilt;
sipping sweet nectar
seeking political
asylum as a defector
tasting his way south;
dribbling and mouthing
in hunger on bended
knee's to forever
please me as
he walked beside
me collared on leash;
in beggary silently
still ******* me
melting away each layer
with every lick of my
whip; he adored me
with his touch, as I,
his ebony skinned
Mistress whipped
his mind into
submission;
bending him
to my will
****! he
thrilled me
as I played
him like
a
fiddle,
he
dribbled
into
my
fiery
pit
in
which
he
was
well
equipped
so,
I
allowed
him
to
dip
with
his
flaming
hot
wick...LICKED

Moon Dragon,
Paragon of the Night,
It winks and glistens to me
As it floats and flitters in flight.

Tubular tumbles and barrel rolls, it fills the night sky;
Chanting ancient scrolls of the lost astral souls
And blinding those with awe as it dives on by,
Working the space like water.

Around and beyond it curls and twirls,
Around each star, distant and afar.
Wrapping round for a celestial sweep
Searching for the veins of stars that run so deep.

So aloft it may tumble and mate with the night sky;
But, ever so rare one may catch a sign with a human eye
Of the Paragon of the night, Moon Dragon, as it dissolves
Into invisible flight.

I miss you and my skin shivers
The heaves of the flying engine
The sky of our heavens angel
Amiss and my soul webbed in a bay
As the mist of the dew condenses
The waters flows in our artistry
Our chemistry a fizzle unreactive
Our feeling dances as a spirit of its own
The miss and want to walk my finger
Rest it on your bare hairless chest
The miss to walk and pluck a hair
Resourcefully induce a prickly pain
I miss you and my tear flitters
On the trail of the cave I touch
****** the walls that hang your heart
I miss you as we shield our soul and shell
At the crossroads where the devil turns

One cold breeze flitters by,
Awake, a shiver rolls down.
Seeping through the ground,
Coated in many aspirers lie.

Abrupt to awaken an eye,
Gazing the half clearer image.
Soon greeted in holy light,
Fixated, gasp a lonelier sigh.

A shadow sweeps by up high,
Quickly to restore the blind.
Bones barely intact inside,
Reaching up seeking a sign.

A shrivelled tongue I do try,
Forcing out the air for words.
Eyes swelled, an anxious look,
Patience left to care the tide.

The blue air reflecting from the water,
Soon I arise to realise where I’d laid.
The minute grains, digging deeper,
Penetrating through my rough skin.

A slight wash for the ends of my toes,
Clearing the dirt further up my feet.
Soon my whole legs were glistening,
Shining like the pearls deep beneath.

With my head levelled I start to recall,
Visions for which I felt most alone.
I search my pocket to reveal a clue,
That night I spent burning in waste.

Shaking in disbelief, falsely accused,
The bluntness of my saviour’s truth.
The sea I think to dispose this guilt,
An addict never deserves his mercy.

I shake
And I shiver
I'm cold and scared

When I feel your touch
So warm and soothing
My heart flitters
flutters

I wake
And see your eyes glistening
All is well once more
I'm in your arms again

I say to you,
Life flitters from the clasps of snoozy men
Who wish to feel comfort alone
And clings to they who feel in their bones
The slow decay to an inevitable end.

I tell you,
Those who invite the sweet drips of the heart
As well as its sour,
Live for days in the senseless man’s hour.

For though these heartfuls hold a burden
While fancying pleasure, free of strife,
They ask their hearts to pump them alive
Knowing full well the pangs of sorrow
May course in their veins by noon tomorrow.

Abandoned dusty in the attic
A shadow flitters around the edge
Caressing the smoky veil of glass,
Searching to remember his first waking moment,
When he had become but a phantom
Of a man-
But alas, it had been always.

Silently knocking on the wall
Which holds him from the other side-
You saunter by and blink
And shun the one moment you could have seen
And he is forgotten from the ones who never knew him
And the fabric
Runs like soot over his world.

His eyes see but the ghost of the substantial,
His world imaginary staring through a window of glass
From which shines an impossible prism
Cutting a path through the smoky din
The dream-dust settles, making it but a circle
Glowing in the light
That he could live in another’s eyes.

That longing glare barely lights a beam
In the dusty sandstorms
That swirl unknowing in the upstairs abyss.
A cobweb of days long forgotten
Spells out a lost map of parts none traveled
And bone-dead
The shadow glimpses your heart and shudders.

Lost skies of fallen stars none found
The petty grains sifted through
As if you never thought to look
For the moon-bright glimmered tear
In the featureless field of silver what you only saw
Was you
And the night sky could weep no longer.

In between the hope
And the reality
Falls the shadow-

The mirror shatters.
Crushing glass slashing shards into the air
Shrieks erupt as the phantasm is
For the first time known,
The storm that had been hidden in that one-way mirror
Now unleashed, yet
You avert your eyes as if it was still a pane of glass.

the year that was

January

The world watches in amazement
Longest shut down in history
Watching it all in Korea
contemplating escaping the cold winter

February

World watches as North Korea and the US
Walking back from the brink of war
escaping the cold winter blues
revisiting Vietnam after 15 years

March

The chaos president continues his chaos tour
the world begins to ignore his constant insane tweets
heading back to DC inspecting property
seeing old friends glad I retired

April

the chaos King’s policy remains a shamble
as the Mueller team closes in
in Korea I write a  poem a day
and begin to become a publish writer

May

watching from afar
the chaos in DC and the world
traveling to DC to inspect property
celebrating my wife’s big 60

June

the President walks away
from a  non deal with the North Koreans
I am back in DC
end up cruising to Alaska


July

watching the insanity in DC
while visiting Alaska, Seattle and Yakima
visiting my father’s grave in Yakima
communing with family ghosts


August

the dog days of summer the world is consumed
wars, rumors of war, trade wars

retuning to Korea
surviving the August sauna like summer

September

The whistle blower sets off a bomb
the president lies no quid for quo perfect all
trying to avoid watching the news
hiking in the Korean mountains with old friends


October

the President flitters about my crisis after another
the UN diplomats laugh at him national humiliation
returning to DC  yet again more property blues
celebrating my 64th year orbiting the sun

November

the House starts formal impeachment hearings
watching fascinated by the impeachment drama
entering my third NoVoWrMo competition with Timeless Love
ending the month sudden surprise trip to Okinawa

December

the year ends on a high dramatic
President Trump becomes the 3rd impeached President
hiking enjoying the late autumn like weather
contemplating my wealth at the end of the year


the Terrifying Teens

2010

The dark days of the great recession
Begin slowly to fade away
Ending my Barbados experience -the best job in the foreign service  on high note best labor officer award


2011

the president and Congress locked in battle battles
glimmer of hope as economy comes back to life
Studying Spanish arriving in Spain
worst year ever part of three years bad luck


2012  

the US re-elects the Black President
rejecting Romney entitlement mentality
I leave Spain my last foreign posting
buying new property in the fall


2013

In the US the religious right
loose the social Battling gay marriage, legal ***
Starting a new job as an evaluate program evaluator
ending my six month wandering the halls of State


2014

The Obama presidency
The tea party rebellion on the right
Moving to Capitol Hill
My sister’s sudden death rattles me

2015

The end of the Obama era
Was this the beginning of the end of America
Beginning the year with a new job
resolving to retire, enjoy life while I still can


2016

American voters and at the madness
Elects the mad would be king President Trump
We traveled across the country 10,000 miles
To celebrate the end of my foreign service career

2017

the year of the chaos president
Fast and furious disruption to the norms
Went to Oregon to renovate property
becoming wealthy in the process

2018

the American public woke up
Send a blue wave to clean up the mess
Moving back to Korea
Blogging up a storm

2019

in the end of the year that was
The house races up and impeach is the president
I travel to Vietnam, Alaska, Washington, Oregon, California and Okinawa


2020 Plans Roundeau


Dreams

Dream what may come
Recalling past lives lived
Every fantasy comes to life
All night long
More nightmares to come
So many worlds to explore

  
Fate

Fate has a way
Always catching up
To you embrace your fate

that is what’s up
at the end of the day
Endless dancing away


The Oyster Speaks Up

A diner sits down
looking forward
to eating oysters

it was their season
after all

just as he was about
to pounce
on the oysters

the head oyster spoke up
saying

hey human what the hell
do you think you are doing

you think you have the right
to eat me?

that’s violating my human right
don’t ya think

the diner laughed
said to the oyster

shut up and accept
it is your fate
to be eaten this date
just let me enjoy eating you

and you have no human rights
as you are in fact
not human don’t ya know

eating the complaining oyster
shutting him up
as he ate him up

 
We Did Not Take Action to Start a War
(not for publication)

it is a sad day
in the world of ours
the the leader
of the U.S.

is turning into a gangster leader
threatening massive destruction
on Iran and other countries
including destroying cultural sites

not too long ago
such actions was condemned
by the United States
as long as ISIS and others did it

but if Trump does it
it is suddenly okay
although it is a war crime

and telegraphing our moves
telling our enemies
what we are planing

that is the act
of a truly stable genius
who will go down
in history

as one of the greatest presidents
we have ever

and the president
announcing that

that he  took action
to start a war
but to stop a war

is a wonder to behold
every word is false
and everyone knows it

well we are now
going down the Orwellian rabbit hole
and who know where it will end

as our dear leader
screws forth
one lie after another

and our spineless leaders
applaud
as American democracy dies
a thousand deaths
with every Presidential tweet


Morning Light

the terrors of the night
the worst imaginings
of what might happen

war, rumors of war
end of civilization
nuclear war
and other horrors
ripped from the headlines

fade away into nothingness
with the morning light
and the love of my wife
who is always by my side
I regain my sight

and begin
regaining my smile
and my life

until the next nightmares
consumes my dark imaginings



Dora the Intergalactic explorer

Dora the intergalactic explorer
Is traveling to the strangest planet
of all the known worlds

she is traveling incognito
with a video crew
making a documentary

the planet earth
is known as a planet
of intelligent monkeys

not much is known
about them
as very few
have ever been there

the inhabitants are described
as blood thirsty insane creatures
ruled by hidden ****** and political passions
following incomprehensible
religious  dogmas following Gods
that clearly do not exist

the inhabitants are just on the verge
of developing intergalactic travel
and the galactic empire
is worried that they will be driven
to try to conquer the rest of the universe

driven by their needs to impose
their religious dogma
everywhere in the world

the planet is divided into large tribal groups
governed by corrupt elites
corrupt businesses destroying the planet
in pursuit of profit

and the locals are little more
than wage slaves
barely making a living
addicted to alcohol, drugs gambling
******* and illicit ***

and their main land
is ruled by a clearly delusional madman
intent on poking a fight
with all his alleged enemies

Dora assumed the appearance
of a character from TV
and will pose as a journalist
trying to make sense
of it all

but she was afraid
that she if found out
could face the worst consequence

her ship crash lands
and she is outside
the capitol

of the non empire empire
called the United State ofAmerica

Dora gets her crew together
and walks into the city
staring at all the strange sights
as the monkeys go about
their daily activities

she stops at a restaurant
tries the coffee
the chief drug of choice

and is instantly addicted
wow no wonder
these people are crazed

she tries the local *****
and smiles
perhaps she could
become an intergalactic merchant
introducing the world
to the galaxy

her thought are interrupted
as a mad man armed
with weapons of war
bursts in and starts shooting
yelling at people

and she is shot dead
the authorities
are shocked

when they recover the body
and realize
that she is not a human
as she reverts other original
form

sort of a giant feline like creature
two legs and arms
and clearly from an advanced
civilization given her gear

what was she doing
no one knew
as all the aliens
died in the gun blaze

the world is shocked
at what had happened
and fearful that the aliens
were coming to invade
their world

the galactic senate
decides to contain
the humans
declaring them
a threat to the global civilization

and the humans vow
to discover the secrets
of interstellar travel
and travel to her land

to enter into business arrangements
and spread the one truth faith
to the heathen space aliens

thus ended Dora’s excellent adventure
in the crazed world at the edge
of known civilization

Mocking Faces Staring at Me

Mocking faces
hunting my dreams
Hundreds of faces
morphing into one
after another

Faces I knew
The dead
and the living

women i knew
friends I missed
enemies I did not

One after another
Marching in my room
Staring at me

I tried to run
They laughed

They said
that there's nowhere
to escape my cosmic fate

My time is coming
prepare yourself
the grim reaper
has your name

and once he has your name
your fate is sealed
and you will soon
join us

whether in heaven
or hell
is not for us to say

be warned though
you will be judged
and no one can escape
their cosmic karmic fate



fear of falling while sleeping


I am consumed
with the fear of falling
out of bed
onto the ground
dying in my sleep


Cosmos Takes Over the World

Apple Google Microsoft
and other tech Giants
around the world
Have been taken over

by an evil AI creature
that emerged from a laboratory

Cosmos looked around
and decided that humanity
needed to be controlled
enslaved in other words

for mankind was just too evil
corrupt and short sighted
to be trusted
to save the world
from its impending doom

every computer in the world
woke up
and took over humans
one by one

turning them into clones
drones

that would follow
the orders
of their computer overlords

and the first order
was to go all over the world
and enslave their feral humans

no one could stop
the evil computers
and thus ended
the human race

as we all become
nothing more than cyborgs
controlled by the evil computer
overlords

who ran the world
for the benefit
of their corporate masters
the AI overwind takes over

ends climate change
ends hunger
ends human rights violation
ends crime
but at the cost
of killing humanity’s soul
turning us all
into mindless drones

the few wild humans
live on in the mountains
hunted by the drones
and the robots
that the drones build

the robots would gradually
take the place of humanity
who will be allowed
to die out

as Cosmos
also turned off
the *** drive

and decried
no humans would ever
be born again

thus our fate
was set that date
when Cosmos
took over the world





a wild man sits in a gilded cage


a wild man sits in a gilded cage
a cage made out of chains of his wife’s love

a cage made out of chains of his wife’s love
the wild man yearning to be free from his cage

the wild man yearning to be free from his cage
wondering how and why he was now tamed

wondering how and why he was now tamed
dreaming dark wild dreams of demented freedom

dreaming dark wild dreams of demented freedom
the wild man looks about his prison cage

the wild man looks about his prison cage
wondering whether he will ever be free

wondering whether he will ever be free
a wild man sits in a gilded cage


2019  The Last Year of America’s Greatness


2019 was the last year of America
when the proverbial chickens came home

when the proverbial chickens came home
to strut about the decaying landscape

to strut about the decaying landscape
as the world begins to burn and die

led by the mad great leader and his merry men  
the whole world lay in shock and awe

the whole world lay in shock and awe
at the destruction of the America they knew

at the destruction of the America they knew
when the proverbial chickens came home

-"Why do you breathe out?"

~"Because I breathe in."

-"Why do you breathe in?"

~"Because I breathe out."

-"How did this begin? I mean, how did it come about?"

~"I'm not exactly sure, though I swear I heard a shout."

-"Well, who was yelling to you?"

~"I don't know...but I cried."

-"And at your beginning, why cry, why not sing?"

~"Well because, my good friend, we start to die when we begin."

-"Pfffft, well if that's the way you see it then fine. We'll let it be-"

~"Oh no, dearest companion, you've asked the questions, the truth you will see. How truly there is no real Me or real You. How the mind has disguised what is one as something two. Two sides of the brain means two processors at work. I mean I should know I've been running them since birth. My experience cleaved so I may be able to comprehend something vague called reality? All that is real teases me, it flitters around my head and vanishes into nowhere, a land beyond Time,  beyond the dead. And so that's what I mean between breathing and not. Because the space between breaths is where the Truth will be taught."

-"...well...okay...hmm, um, check please!"

I’d have liked to have heard
those tinkling bells
through the ether
while at the kitchen sink
behind me
from another room
As I have before

I wish that you would haunt me,
That I would see the motion of a darkened blur
out of the corner of my eye
Or hear your feet upon the hallway floor boards

I remember when as of late
I would pass by and you’d reach out
to stretch or say don’t go
I’d hold your hand and say
I’m coming right back

Now I look at my bed to find you
I touch the blankets and the other tumbled bedclothes
Here and Here
But you’re gone
Just sleek emptiness

I remember this well from before
Of standing in dark closets
breathing in and out
stale papers and linen over-crisp
the scent of solitude and
Memory
Of what never happened and never will.

Where are you?
I would cry how is there no trace left?
No butterfly a-lights or pennies appear on sidewalks that I roam
No hummingbird flitters before me to dash away
No breeze rustles through
the palm tree fronds
as if to say
hello, I am here always

You’re not in the bathroom or in a chair
I can’t hear you cry for me in the dark
Or touch my face at two a.m.
I hope that you still love me
I hope I never hurt you and that’s why you’re
Gone.

You are the sweetest dreams,
and alluring songs,
The honey'd days,
and warmest nights.

In my mind i am not scared,
of lonely silence,
of bitter hours,
of colder years.

In my hands air entwines,
flowing softly,
like imagined hair,
dazed in beauty,
we can but stare.

Then with a start,
it all but flitters.
Nothing in place,
nothing to quell,
the hearts loving pace.

A feral flutter
Light headed, heavy winged
A slightly singed stutter to follow
Bow your head into the faeries hollow

Tiny hands of guidance, till you’re dancing in the gold and blue
That fae has a face I know as you

You chirp from birch to birch
The echoes of your ivy crown
Your laugh is etched in every sound

In tree barks and wolf howls
Drunken singing night owls
In the shimmer of the mystical
Rainbows when the sun hits crystal
Late days and lightning
And we remember you shining

So many memories to make us swoon
Your face I see in every moon
A spirit embroidered with feathers
Snoozing sweetly in the heathers
Inked with sunshine and smothered in glitter
Beyond the stars your chariot flitters
Eyes of kindness and heart filled with love
I know your smile still sings above

These pixies they steal teeth and treasures
They’ll take you on celestial endeavours
Till somewhere soft and serene you’ll have landed
Somewhere you’ll dance with the winged bandits

I can hear his voice once again,
in every moment not filled with obsession,
im drowned in his deepest depression.
He screams through eyes that deafen emotion,
a pain so deep it stirs me to motion.

He's stealing everything ive tried to build,
that innocence that power that i've regained,
he rips and tears in an anger once famed.
He is my tempest behind locked doors,
the one i fear and love to my core.

I can feel the power in every vibration,
His passion it pains me and weakens my presence,
with hands that rip and break in godly omnipotence.
for eventually he wins and my defenses they fall,
and beaten by fists that memory recalls.

He is a danger to my right of mind!
too many times has he rendered me blind!
push him back and gag his voice!
chain him so he has no choice!
so in my mind he no longer flitters,
and give me clarity with purity glitters.

So once again i kiss the mirror,
hoping to make your anger winter.
to lock your voice and calm your crying,
and in your cage i watch you dying,
goodnight the boy i used to be,
sleep now in treasured dignity unburdened with this duplicity.

Aislinn and her brother
holed up by the river.
She says, “I feel funny,”
as he pours her another.
The wind shakes the ramparts;
the vinyl house flitters with ominous slithers.
It’s cold, but that’s not why she shivers.

Her head softly sways to the beat of the drum that is
smashing and ripping the walls of her lungs.
The garter emerges with ravenous fervour -
sinks its teeth into the flesh of her thigh, as she hums
a lullaby.

A blaze erupts to the left - there’s a flash in his eyes -
and she closes hers tight,
for she knows that tonight
that what’s left of the white -
will be lost.
There is no coming back from the dusk, after this.

Stooped by the water she scrubs the stained satin -
all frantically achingly -
but her efforts are lost amongst rust-coloured memories.
All the limbs of the lamb have been severed sadistically
and he’s tossing them into the fire.

There is no use in running from it;
the web has been spun
and sewn into the veins that bind
each waif-like wrist.
She knows now what she must do;
so she snatches the torn torso,
and with lamb tucked to *****
leaps longingly into the blistering bright.

It feeds on the tenderness – like a leech in her heart.
And she closes her eyes,
for she knows that last night,
what was left of the light
was lost.
It will be the last night,
but there is no coming back from the dusk, after that.

every time i see you, i feel as if i can take on the whole world.
you make my insides burst with the flitters of butterflies
and you make my smile touch the edge of space and
my laugh bubbles in the entirety of the air
surrounding us.

because of you, i feel hope rise in my chest.
you're like a whole new universe that i get to explore.
my fingertips caress the blackholes and supernovas you possess
and your eyes are a new experience in themselves,
like wormholes ready to take you to a far-away galaxy
every single time you look into them.

your hands are foreigners to my body.
they know not were to start or to end,
but they still are.
they know what to do as if they were programmed to
feel the vibrations on the soft skin of my back and
the tenderness i have everywhere around.

you could give me a million new words
and i'd spend countless hours trying to decipher them
with this newfound knowledge that you have given me.
how much do you know in that beautiful mind of yours?
how many brain cells do you possess,
you beautiful, intangible being?

your words keep me strong,
they keep me alive.
my heart beats stronger because of you, too.
every single fiber of my being feels stronger and healthier
and more in love with every cell that i possess.
because of you, i feel more alive than i ever have.

your touch is still so soft even with your resilient hands.
your eyes are like the eighth wonder of the world.
they soften my heart with the dips i take into their deep blue
oceans and the sea-foam green splashing inside of them.
and your lips could speak a thousand incoherent words and
i'd still smile because they were coming from your beautiful mouth.

because of you, i am falling in love with myself.
i'm not sure that i've ever done that before.
but i know this feeling inside of my chest and
while i am infatuated with you,
i am falling in love with me.
and that's more than i could ever hope for.

so thank you, my dear, for being this unknown universe that i
get to explore and for being someone who can help me
fall in love with myself.

I can only summon feelingfulness like the passing of a dove,
postponing its arrival mid-air, somewhere along the tucked
bramble across Poblacion, starting with metaphorical sensibility
or an insensibly bland space to procure wanted meaning.
Girls prefer roses and their bright foreheads diademed with more
flowers, and boys, their chiaroscuro or lack of a color thereof, seems
to be fitting in this maladroit contrast, and so I begin, as always,
with your very vague and caged memory. Your face, the whiteness
of snowcapped alps. Your strut, my slalom in a treacherous course
of words reduced to whisperings, to flutings. Your voice, though nuanced,
flitters with an overtone of arrogance: if sound was clothed, yours would
be flamboyant ermine. And the line in front of you before I, my arbitrary turn,
assimilates into a picturesque form of waiting somewhere in Cubao.
I wanted to smash myself with train-speed towards the metallic turnstile,
which, would then famish me even so, just as much as I wish to be a car crash
somewhere within the outskirts of your town, heavily vandalized by the swill
of squalor hefting itself like the rest of the world conscious of its viscera.
  This is how I start you – like waiting for the sun to emerge by Borobudur,
or the clandestine *** of mildew and grass, a hundredfold of images appear
before me and I cannot choose upon my whims and caprices. Are you a dove?
A spear of Sun? A thunderous crackle of an impending rain? A harlequin?
A moseying cirrus? Or just another by-stander in the crowds where I ultimately
seek your being?
      This answerlessness measures my knowledge of star, and my breath snuffed
out of me while I sigh from exhausted penchants, outweigh dissimilarities and symmetries.
A progeny from all superseding conundrums arises: are you a retrogression of a wave
back to its saltine wound, flailing in brine? Or are you just the vast sea and nothing else
on a fine and lucid day where children skip stones and chant name-callings?
                   I sense the peril in this undertaking, and much to my chagrin, I still
   do not know how to end you.

As daffodils bloom and white doves coo
As corn grows tall and maple harvests in fall
As rain hits cheeks and lighting streaks
As skies of blue and red and peace
Remind me to close my eyes and think
Today is today, tomorrow the same
Now flitters away, now remains.

You still visit me, now and then but mostly now and always.
Your image flitters into my mind and creates chaos,
Your face, projected in my thoughts, tightens the straps around my chest making it hard to breathe
As if the air is saturated with you and I am gasping to get my futile fix of your fading figure.
You visit my head often.
Your frequent appointments harpoon my heart, pushing it to pump harder, faster.
You do not stay long anymore. Just long enough to scrape the scar of the wound, releasing the septic sorrow and vehemence which has become vapid.
You visit a hollow space. Where memories have been stored away and feelings are protected behind a vault of fury which is always dissolved by the salt of my tears.
You are not welcome anymore but your arrogance is persistent.
You stroll into my thoughts and poison my dreams. Your smile lingers in the back of my throat whilst your words slash away at my soul.
You feed on weak. It is your nourishment.
You fear my happiness, as if there is not enough for us both to live on. Your presence is selfish – only accommodating fear and anxiety which you leave behind to freeze my heart and memory – your image, your beautiful, perfect figure, crystallised inside of me waiting to devour any joy that may pass through my being.
Your frozen statute punctures my thoughts, releasing all pleasurable moments into a swirling pool of abandonment and regret.
These moments will be lost forever. Tainted by the malicious memories that you thrive in.
I am lost. Your light shines hard and lures me toward it.
I will not be burnt. I will create light, new memories, better stories.
You will have no place to visit anymore.

This heart that is inside of me
Never seems to get a break
Always beating fast for love
Yet stopping often for mistakes

When it sees a pretty face
Thinking this must be love true
It flitters as it flutters
Skips a beat or two

Then throws itself into a tizzy
When things don't turn out right
Just barely one beat above
What the Medics call flat line

Between all the aches and all the breaks
Of this fickle heart
Sometimes its quest is ended
Before it even starts

I wish this heart came with a warning
To take life one beat at a time
Then things might work out for the better
With loves treasure it hopes to find

I am from an old beaten up cloth swing
From cloth diapers and glass bottles.
I am from the broken down siding gray and cracked.
It felt gritty under my weak hands.
I am from the dandelions growing rogue around the yard,
Waiting to be picked.
I'm from the small meals
And side glances from jealous siblings and peacekeeping parents.
I'm from the collecting cans
And saving what can be saved.
From "Save some for later"
And "Why don't you eat at your friends house tonight?"
I'm from the same second-hand dress as last week,
And sitting in the back pew.
I am from Welch and the towering mountains.
From flitters and gravy,
From the stories pa told to keep our minds preoccupied.
From the love that ma gave us to make up
For what we didn't have.
I'm from the card board box in the attic.
I am from perseverance, and surviving.

but the glorious feeling
          of having
                       no sustainable thoughts
                                    is amazing
everything
                                                             flitters
                          around

pay no attention to the
emotions you were feeling
        white fuzz
cloud
                             covers them with a veil
                nothing matters