As I Just close my door to my world
I Open the door to THE world.
SOOooooooo I Breathe in (breath in)

Take it all in

Airs somewhat cloggier than my space
At least im free from all that *** taste
And here, the Journey, begins.
Door to door about 58 minutes
Not including stops at the shops
And the inevitable wait at the bus stop
The electronic boards are always bad with timing  
Transport For London? Pssssh more like Thanks For Lying

*******.

About this time I ruffle and shuffle
Untangle my earphones and cause quite a kerfuffle
Unwinding the sound lines
Looping them in and out of their binds
Pulling and squeezing
Making sure the copper coil isn't easing
Cos they can give you a sharp *****!
For some reason that always happens on my fingertips,
And then they itch.

Oh the mechanics of me
Brought to thought
About my whole existence
As soon as something malleable
Penetrates my shell.
I'd look at the spot of blood and be rather..........disappointed
Why couldn't it be green? or maybe purp...blue?
At least then my suspicions would be true
That I'm not of this World Planet or Region
Coming from entities who celebrate happiness every season
Wandering around pretending to look like us
Just for kicks never indulging in any of the fuss
Just managing to jump out when things get hard
And back in when its all tickles and laughs
And out when its heartbreak or death
And then back in When Arsenal win the league! **** YES!!!

Yes...yes...That would make me feel blessed
Just to know I'm not like all the others
Who were all born from Mothers
Not that id wanna be born by a Brother
Cos that would be...odd.
I feel like I'm just waiting for my powers to be bestowed upon me
Dropped from the skies in a sacred ceremony
Surrounded by flying Lions
And jumping Elephants
Moonwalking Dogs
And Motorbike riding Frogs
Animals that I can't even imagine
That to my mind don't even exist
I'm greeted with cheers and smiles
And theres crowds going absolutely wild!!!
They all know the life I've lived
And happy that I've got to this bit
Where everything falls into place
Cos now I  control the ins and outs to my desired taste
Mmmmmmmmmmm
And it tastes so devine
Like souls entwined
Embodied in one another filling each and every space
Can you imagine how that would taste?
It would taste...tasty

All these thoughts from looking at this crimson blot on my finger
These are the things that make my mind linger
Dreams of being an ethereal being
As I look up and all that my eyes are seeing
Is the bus that i missed because I was daydreaming.

Once I met a platypus;
I took her to my heart.
We held hands by the lake at night,
And flew kites in the park.

We drank red wine by moonlight,
And closer, by degrees,
Expressed our deepest feelings;
Explored our fantasies.

And then, as these things happen,
There came a happy day:
We took an ad out in The Times
Announcing progeny.

But outrage at the outcome -
Our beloved platy-pups -
Was front page in the tabloids!
What was the platy-fuss?

We gave the papers interviews,
We gave our truth and trust -
But still my Love was slandered
Just for being oviparous!

We formed an equal rights group.
We founded charities.
To educate, to celebrate
Our ovi-parity!

We swore a solemn, binding oath,
Between the two of us
The Wedding feast and party was
Quite monatrematous!


Uncle Mallangong was tearful;
Aunt Echidna was abeam:
The Boondaburra “Moonwalking”
Was something to be seen!

There were Joeys sloshed on cider,
Wombats smoking ****;
Emus snogging at the bar -
Koalas wild on speed!

For sickness, health; for poorer,
Or for great prosperity;
I will love and hold and cherish,
Through all adversity,

My nondarwinian lover;
My mutant, duck-billed Queen!
My unconventional ******;
My monotreme – my dream!

Laugh all you want,
but when I was a kid
I didn't watch
Thriller after dark.

But I danced.
I danced my *** off in that lit living
room
with Joci.

All night long,
popping
and moonwalking.

Now that I'm old(er)
I know how to build spaceships
and I can put
the popcorn
in the microwave
myself.

I can take the popcorn out of the microwave
and watch Thriller all night long.

But
then
my little woodpecker
came.

When I was
Cynical
with power
now and then,
I became
Raw
and uncarved
again.

We dance over the graves all night long.
Our tombstones are smooth
and we make light
together
with our feet.

Little woodpecker
what are you beginning to etch
in me now?

† really is a poor man's Nike tick, or the three stripes
of a.d.i.d.a.s. (Korn ref. mind you),
here on testimony, yet again the Kaiser
i quote: 'logos are the Esperanto of
marketing'...
so † is the poor man's logo...
                          capitalism can shove too
many at you, like the star of david,
or the scythe moon of islam encapsulating
the star of the north (Venus) on several flags...
why are the Arabs born in the 1980s encapsulating
the zeitgeist of disillusionment our generation
feels towards our elders? they're the only ones
with ***** to commit the crimes they commit,
because our generation is down-trodden
they feel remorse when they rebel,
stick a strawberry flavoured ****** on that
***** and shove it up my ***, will you?
i might just taste the strawberries after it has been
into the black hole of digestion - i might just
turn to stellar daydreams of moonwalking
myself into a stable suburban family-friendly
U or PG rated movie afternoon. like ****, ha ha.
the arab youth, they're the Zeitgeist of our generation,
1980s orientated, they see the scams and the bluffs
and the insurance policies, the missing retirement
plans akin to B.H.S. sort-of loosing them
when the head of the company sells it for £1
and blows all the pension policies on a yacht to
enter a wrestling-match with some rich russian oligarch
(oiled up ~lark... could have written -gark):
and i have the bigger peanuts, because i befriended
an elephant and charged against the Macedonian horde
throwing Alexander off his horse.
swear to god i caught a bottle of water that
Fieldy threw into the crowd, and noticed that i caught it,
back in the day at London Arena - where
they filmed the video for some Slipknot song and
i was almost crushed and constipated; yep,
when the Docklands was the answer to Wembley.
so yeah, what's with that coco the †, cha cha cha
Chopin and chaps and shoo?
well... i do remember having to endure being made
fun of in primary school for my pronunciation,
i only started learning English from scratch at 8
and was fluent before all the ****** natives could
say something like onomatopoeia,
i was made fun of after i said PUMA
rather than PJUMA...                on my way to swimming
lessons (yeah, learned to swim on my own)...
retards inserted the J... told you Jesus only made us
"try" and speak politely... and that turned out to
be a Patti Smith song... although American Head Charge's
rock n' roll ****** cover of her's i prefer.

I used to love rocking
with him in the gaudy
nightclubs, sea-green eyes
drifting into dance jams,
drunk rhythms, spinning
inside burning Mars, his
feet moonwalking through
the crowd, waiting for the
blazed beat to sound off,
as he bopped his head
to the hypnotic music,
flashy shoulders moving
in the breeze, embracing
the iridescent chemistry.
And as I hopped onto the
dance floor by his side,
electrified rhymes rumbling
through my muscles, so raw
and pounding, a bursting bomb
of atomic funk, I grooved inside his
galaxy, hips twisting and turning
into intensifying dynasties,
funky legs breaking down
to the ground, whipping it
around and around, going
downtown, spine-igniting highs,
cool consonants skyrocketing
towards Mount Olympus.  
Our bodies spun, the nightlife
shining within our souls,
faces floating in extreme fever,
knees rising in paradise,
crowned, intoxicating,
hands wild-waving,
lost in this amazing
enchantment.

balter aimlessly
let's dance infamously
no rest in the room for eternal minutes
oh just spin us
counting the rhythm on our extra digits
this movement is more like fidgeting
moonwalking with iridecent souls
the feet kick and squirm and meet the knee
a bend of the neck, of the elbow
until you're hands meet me
in the middle
the fidget winds to a fiddle,
sudden like we're syncing
a drift saved from break by interlocking steps unperformed
together the dance, never grew worn,
although it's nothing less, it's nothing more

© 2015 Kate Volk

green collisions
topped with
yellow petals
no,
white petals
no,
red petals
no,
pink petals

i think i'm hearing the colors
and tasting the sounds

do you think we melt in heaven?
i've always liked that thought

melting

the flowers
are waltzing
no,
moonwalking
no,
they're doing the salsa
no,
pole dancing

we're all flowers
learning to dance
in the wind

we're all writers
learning to pen
down our words

we're all artists
learning to drip
paint, quicker, faster

we're all struggling
to find
our waves

i've never danced before

i tried once

i cried

i don't write poems for anyone

i write poems to survive

i need these words
and broken stanzas
like the flowers
need their breeze,
need their water,
need their sun,
need their breeze,
need their water,
need their sun,
need their breeze,
need their water,
need their sun

my liver is black
these words are black
my shirt is black

the flowers stay full of color

i wonder
what
would
happen
if
we
learned
to
love
the breeze,
the water,
the sun,
the breeze,
the water,
the sun,
the breeze,
the water,
the sun,

the same way
the flowers
do

dancing

Part of persons character
that has a genetic origin

Engulfed in the chromosomes
What defines us
What classifies
What makes us differs

Jackson
Hey son,did you see back there
Six ,you dribbled past these opponents and the stadium was in uproar
Like an antelope running from predator
And 2 goals by half time
Your thrilling moves and moonwalking dance
In celebration
Your DNA match your grandfather, he was a legend in his time

Rehab
"Hic hic"poor daughter of mine
Hiccups of cheap liquor ,lazy waek body
Puffing,stripping and cracking
You are a shame
You have become a shareholder of rehabs
The DNA of your mother still thrive
She went to another life
just because she couldn't survive

Mike  " Mic"
The drum beats for the rhythm
The violin takes over to rhyme
Mike for the mic sings a popular local song
That the audience sing along
"Even his daddy was like him,I liked his "DNA don"song!" Paul his father's friend exclaims

Moonwalking on a
tightrope
Let the fire
burn
our safety net
If we fall the
ashes
shall catch us

Black is not one color
                           but all of 'em in one

Black is not a face nor a person,
Not a baller nor ***...

it is the period when this sentence is done .

Maybe black is the ooze
that drowns sea and fish

or is it that ***** young'un
all hungry with wish

Black is certain as black is your eye
when you're fighting just to prove your right
(or keep one's rights alive)

Oh yes, black is what makes the stars shine bright
while under it--knocking boots aside...
no matter what, love is also made
in the darkest of nights...

So why would somebody
as golden as me
care about one crayon
or a stripe of a bee?

Because if nothing is wrong
then our skin shouldn't be
or much worse  --whipped til it bleed...

There is nothing more to say,
but let each embrace teach you

Question all history, but now just do you

as long as eyes can take a look
know your neighbor, love that crook
experience and love is not from a book.

Now I'll sit next to you
since we ride the same bus,
do you get to know my color
or speak to living dust?

Black may be just a word
that fear blinds from our trust

Still all the colors in one
black is beauty under the sun,

til time is rust, til gone is done...

So speak truly and be free
Love the same as all of us
Cherish blues and greenest trees
Since we do ride that same ole bus...


No words need screams or fistful hate
Cuz Black is Moonwalking
up to the Pearly Gates,
where the boogie cannot wait

and the blind finally wake...

drake was showing off
his toosie slide
kicking, tossing his feet
kicking to the beat
all around his mansion

walled in and isolated
in the cramped space of his home
trying to ramp up the energy
trying to enter the
flow of an artist

and perhaps here the ego
did indeed fall away
and every deed of his performance
and every award of his importance
was a testament to positive psychology

just as Mihaly endorses
complete immersion can beget
this aversion to distraction
this sole aim of action
tempus fugit into a fraction

If it was possible
To walk in the footsteps of man
Whose shoes would I like to wear
I,ll tell you if I can

There,s so many I admire
It's really hard to say
Can I live a million years
And wear a different pair each day

I think first I,d wear mandellas
Such an unselfish man
To give up 28 years of freedom
So we could understand

Then I,d wear Martin luthers
For I also have a dream
For peace and unity
To be life's only scheme

Then I,d wear Elvis,s
The rock and roll king
His songs had so much meaning
And I,d really love to sing

Maybe Florence nightingales
The lady with the lamp
The nurse of all
The saviour the champ

Then Neil armstrongs
The moonwalking kind
One small step for man
But a giant for mankind

Maybe John lennons
And yoko Ono,s too
They both strove for love and peace
If only it came true

I could go on forever
Wearing other people's shoes
I wonder if we had the chance
Whose shoes would you choose??????????????

This isn't gonna be about what happened to you or how you were treated.
You know, by the media and those who chose to believe all the lies they told.
All I wanna talk about is how you were and what you mean to all of us.
I'm sixteen and have been a fan since I was a three or four year old little girl.
I would watch your videos and love hearing you sing all of those songs.
And I became an even bigger fan of you in fifth grade and have been since.
I sincerely can't get enough of your music from when you were here.
I love everything from when you were in The Jackson 5, Jacksons, and alone.
Because you were always a star and you showed that even in a group.
You were the lead singer who would get out and dance his heart out for us.
You don't know how much you meant to this world all of these years.
And I know that you really loved being on that stage more than being off it.
You said that you'd sleep on stage if you could. you'd live on stage.
You felt so much better when onstage than anywhere else in the world.
The only other time you feel comfortable is playing with a child.
It doesn't matter where they are are what race they are, you just love them.
You love that all they wanna do is play and have fun, not judge you.
You could play with them all day everyday and never get tired of it for a second.
You also had a very strong love for all kinds of animals, even snakes.
You loved every kind of animal from pets to elephants and even tigers.
But even more than that and all the music you made every day.
You were also all about making a difference in this world for all in it.
You hated that there was so much violence and wanted to help.
You used your tours to to make money so you could help charities around the world.
You would go to children's hospitals and oprhanages to give toys.
Because they were either ill or poor or didn't have a family of their own.
You cared so much about helping people in any way you could.
You talked while you were under the influnce trying to sleep about a hospital.
You wanted to use the money you would make on tickets for it.
A children's hospital and you wanted it to be the biggest in the world.
And while you may not have been able to do that, you did a lot.
You were still an inspiration to all of us through your music and kindness.
I don't think that it was your time to leave us five years ago.
But I guess that according to someone higher it was just the right time.
So I just think that you are up there moonwalking on the moon.
You and James Brown, and now Elizabeth Taylor are all together up there.
I will continue to watch your videos and only love you more.
And I just want you to know that you are more than just The King Of Pop.
And that nothing will be the same musically without you.
And nothing will be the same for anyone that knew you without you here.
Rest In Peace wherever you are and know that we love you.
And that we all think about you and support you every single day.

Silver sky
At dawn
Pronto
Pronto
I shall sing
Lullaby
Pronto
Pronto
I shall dance
Moonwalking
Beneath the grey
Pronto
Pronto
At dawn

Jean C Bertrand

(take a deep breath and sound all the phonemes out loud, continuously, moving from one to the next at a comfortable pace as you read the corresponding line internally: u, i, e, əʊ, a)

u: Liquescent hurricane pouring through my lips

i: Swarm of ballerinas moonwalking on my cheeks

e: Effervescent cavers interrogating my throat

o: Yawning black hole pulling into my mind

a: This body's answer to my every question

Black is not one color
                           but all of 'em in one

Black is not a face nor a person,
Not a baller nor ***...

it is the period when this sentence is done .

Maybe black is the ooze
that drowns sea and fish

or is it that ***** young’n
all hungry with wish

Black is certain as black is your eye
when you're fighting just to prove your right
(or keep one's hopes alive)

Oh yes, black is what makes the stars shine bright
while under it--knocking boots aside...
no matter what, love is also made
in the darkest of nights...

So why would somebody
as golden as me
care about one crayon
or a stripe of a bee?

Because if nothing is wrong
then our skin shouldn't be
or much worse  --whipped til it bleed...

There is nothing more to say,
but let each embrace teach you

Question all history, but now just do you

as long as eyes can take a look
know your neighbor, hug that crook
experience and love is not from a book.

Surely I'll sit next to you
since we ride the same ****** bus,
do you get to know my color
or speak to living dust?

Black may be just a word
that fear blinds from trust.

black is beauty under the sun,
til time is rust, til gone is done...

So speak truly and just Be free
Lov’in the same as all of us
Cherish our Blue her greenest trees
Since we do ride that same ole bus...

No words need screams or fistful hate
Cuz Black was Moonwalking
All up to the Pearly Gates,
where the boogie cannot wait...

and the blind finally wake.

he paused at an intersection--with a
pedestrial roundup at his back.
an orange hand's superhuman staving
power instigated a muted version of:
"Waiting for Godot".
then an orange sleight of hand's
arrhythmical numeric funnel, bumped
into a walking lime figure.
he then turned around as if wrested from
consternation, having thoughtfully
weighed the group dynamic of intimate
friendship.
almost like moonwalking with Nintendo One graphics, he paced their unscripted
diaspora.
blockade-wide arms outalking his mouth as he stated: 'you know what...you guys should go without me.'
what followed was the hammering down
on a crosswalk's piano keys--that melted
into a pending desensitization.

Linkedin to being lax,
and shirking house cleaning tasks,
which negligence cost us
(yours truly and the missus)
a golden opportunity
to relocate to Hillcrest Village
in Boyertown, Pennsylvania
another HUD subsidized property
under the aegis of Grosse and Quade,
one of the larger residential
property management firms
in the Delaware Valley.

Physical unwellness
(insync with racing heart) arose
because Kathleen Bergen
the new property manager
here at 2 Highland Manor
voiced absolute zero positive feedback,
upon taking lock, stock, and barrel
of appalling living conditions,
her blistering vocalization
(from wuthering heights)
translated as a foregone conclusion
against our hopes
pinned on moving into
two bedroom apartment
referenced above topmost lines.

Said plummeted disappointment
(courtesy blunt admission
out the mouth of
(humpty dumpty sat on a wall)
frumpty recent hire
identified in a previous poem
as new warden)
verbosely predicated upon
gross appearance of living space
immediately dashed cautious optimism
citing unkempt state
within no crater than
moonwalking unit b44,
whereby we wished to skadaddle
far away from obligation
to be mindful of rules and regulations
codified within a binding lease.

Unlikely home ownership
will ever come to pass,
nor the lesser prospect
to rent more spacious domicile
larger than a one bedroom apartment,
no bigger than a bread box
den me and the missus,
(a hen pecking spouse)
might befriend Bugs Bunny,

who might guarantee
adequate sized rabbit hole
constituting large enough wonderland
receiving stamp of approval
courtesy Alice in Chains
subsidized lodging money back
plus additional warren tee
granted by Mister Michael Fox,
who took me back to the future,

when the pace of life
plodded along at leisurely rhythm.
Only within outer limits
realm of twilight zone,
where dark shadows
inch along edge of night
(while two thumbs and index finger
belonging to separate good sports
grab hold the furcula

(or wishbone) structure
formed by the ventral fusion
of the right and left clavicles
and the median interclavicle
silently mouth invocation)
holds at bay, the inexplicable phenomena
moored, harbored, and docked
awaiting lucky recipient,
whose merrythought bestowed
upon he/she, they/them.