1)
my wife came out of the shower
last month
still unwashed and dry as a bone
You’ve forgotten, she snarled, haven’t you,
to pay the water bill?

Ooops! I’d done it again!

2)
last Monday
she came waving her hairdryer at me
and she screamed;
You’ve forgotten, haven’t you -
to pay the power bill?

Ooops! I’d done it again!

3)
last winter
she was trembling
and she said, shivering:
You’ve forgotten
to pay the bill for the gas heating ,
haven’t you?

Ooops! I’d done it again!


4)
and yesterday
when I returned home from work
I found everything in the house floating -
the chairs and the sofa
and the oven and the dog
and my wife too, upside down
up there in mid air
And she hollered:
You’ve forgotten, haven’t you
to pay the gravity bill?
And she reached out for my neck
as I levitated too

*Help! Somebody
Help! Anybody
Help us get back
down to earth!

If I want to die, I'll do it myself
I'll save a kid or some **** and make it look like I died a hero
But nah, I had a death wish.
Didn't any of you know?
I said it probably forty-million times.
It's cool the kid is alive, though.
And it's cool that this all rhymes.

Tell the kid while I convulse, choking on blood that  I said,
"Eat your vegetables. Stay in school. Being in love is really cool.
It's okay to be alone. It's okay to be afraid. Don't make the decision I made."

Then play some surfer music and have him stand in front of a projector,
projecting video waves and dreams, as they start to dance.

Honestly.
If I wanna die, it's by your side.
But you're gone.
Away.
It was too hard, and you're afraid.
I'm afraid, too. I don't wanna die.
But this isn't living, what I'm doing now.
It's survival, and it's just
blood and bone.
Eat and walk.
In a crowded room, alone.
Smile and talk.
I can't feel. I can't feel. Keep saying it: I can't feel.

But I feel it all, and if I want to die then it's by your side.
If I wanna die, then I want to talk to you before I go.
If I'm going to die then it's because it's hard to cope
knowing that I love you, and you love me, but you don't wanna anymore.
So I don't wanna anymore, anything.
I don't wanna be here.
I don't wanna be anywhere.
I don't wanna be.

I dream a lot now, more than before.
Reality has become the compass to a draining nothingness,
and I don't want to stick around.
Either way, I'll dream or think of nothing, and it couldn't be that bad.

"No one is worth taking your life over."
"It gets better."
"What if she wasn't the one?"

How do you know how I feel?
What if it doesn't?
What if she was?

Can I bathe in nihilism or is that too transparent?
Should I shake the salsa in the silver room of the Lisbeth Salander character arch or should I be in the ark, two by two, with Noah?
At least I'll be able to feel, taste, see the shine, relate to another's pain, realize a life, be next to one meant for me in the shelter of doom and eventual hope, and be with a man with as much certainty, perceived as crazy or brilliant as me.

Can you walk home to me?

To know that what I knew is what I may never know is something I don't want to know, and something I'll always know could be something I live for and by, and that's all I knew before and now I know nothing but that.

If I wanna die, then it's knowing you as I walk to you or you walk to me, in depth, in death, in soliloquy.

The crumbling clock is my hoarder as it keeps everthing I don't need like memories, future events, and times and dates for places I don't want to be.

Is it too much to want to be a fly on the wall that is smashed?

I've never been so lost.

"Don't be so dramatic. Don't be so dramatic. Don't be so dramatic."

Okay, thanks. Now I can think of that, and what else is wrong with me while I feel lost. So lost, and unlike ever before if I ever was lost before.

What do I even say on my note?

Ooops?
Whoops?
My bad?
It's never enough, isn't it?

If I could wrap your sorrow around my lungs to where I could only breathe your sadness as I give you my hopes, joys, and everlasting essence to fuse with you as you feel complete, I would, I have, and I lay empty.

Is this enough to say?
Do you get my point?

Yo _,
Hoping all is well as sugary sweet flowing going more like honey beeing;
you---- and---- too-uly have been so how do we like to say so, romp rompy and we just don't know X'actly as is, as it might appear though let us hope it's not too rhymey or schemey with Pop Pomp Pompey on and in too deeply into those ity bity incy weeny little commentary boxery's!!

If you don't get my follow ups to Heaven Made'r and or Garlic Please they are in draft form which I may poem-alize live copy dat roger over and over or not. I'm going out about it never mind worrying about yourself, but before or later don't worry so much we all here are so under staffed it's one of those scarcity things we need to promote to keep all you potentially dangerous and certainly crazy types safe. We've myopically studied humanity and yes those aliens have been helping too for well let's just say here cause I'm to say not so much about it, but I've already been chipped as spared with a tag of 'IDKy'. My Mom was told as a child it might be curse but I feel now with my spare free pass I'm feeling lucky and so gamble ramble rolly and once I found out it actually rhymed with Holy so who Holy knowly's? Okay my apologies and I'm overly busy you know the staff scarcity thing though we try to usually depersonalize for both the guilty and innocent as well one as you as far as we can tell are innocent yet and charges have been brought against you, but don't get your hopes up quite yet!!!

So if you would like to consult with a lawyer we are fine by this we'd understand but understand this we do not have public funds on that scarcity list for defending such kinds of non-nonsensical indefensible, but of psychiatrist and getting locked up for this we could turn you in or give ya' a long set of lists...

And we try to promote optimism firstly especially moslty up-frontly; but know see here steer clear of what we just might need a little bit more clarity therein thereoutward IDK peeps are saying all kinds of crazy things out there we're trying very hard at keeping you safe from all those other's now. I think they call themselves all kinds of crazy things like 'One Another', then they say 'All's ya' need is Love" but see then they've got all kinds of other deep rooted kinds of mix-ups within for next thing you know ya', we have finally figure this much. They seem so contradictory, we've butchered and tortured the best specimens we could and too some even helped with every bit and like too all kinds of crazy things they call us conformists!! We have not got that one figured out yet but new techies well ya know we stole some of their genetics fore if you just keep them reigned in on just a precise tether we have got a bit done with them. Well they are coming soon can't say when with chips that make silicon again dark ages at last, well then as I was saying the new algorithmics and transprogramizations might be able to be downloaded in. Now yes the stuff we have now and we're building servers and storage what they say of Gods House Many Mansions, well we don't know what crazies think they think they think they believe somehow they actually can do anything at all but we have got this thing that fits what they call Gods House we think on the small tip end of the needle ya, as they say JC, Pop's little one, all these mansions just one son. Anyway said something about us being like trying to get a camel though the eye of that thing. But wowza we got a barn load of that House of God stuff on the small end remember and they pretty safe we's moling around underground and along with a little nuclear waste and all the kinds of formats and types of files well if they were barns on grounds oh what a city!! We think perhaps a metaphorical thing we might be able to some how use it then they say we are abusing it. Well to say this for the new humanity and like that "Jeweled City" coming down for their own good looking over them it will be. We have our special agents everywhere, from a handful of string puppeteer players but don't worry the aliens say most of the genes did what they were supposed to. So we might be getting close to pulling this off. Well, these thing now are like what they say about this thing they call 'God'. It's like it knows no country, race, religious affiliations or associations, secular or non those work we have found about the same way. Currencies, politics they all make pretty good mindful fences and we like that stuff it's all in your head, because there are some still trying figure this stuff too, about some kind of connection from the mind to or from the heart and which way we just don't get the technical details. All we really know is that when this heart matter comes up our systems nearly crash. So as far as we can tell we still pushing hard that EMC squared energy matter to crazy people, crazy enough keeps theirs minds busy with stuff dig!! This oh, how this the beautiful kicker still scares the living 'um we'll just call it crap here. For if this ever goes public you know the scarcity promotional plan and shortness of staff, well it might save us some editing and save energy from servers trying to catch stuff that might upset and make unruly those same people we do all we can for. But you never know we're just not so sure so too we let them selves go on with maybe 'Mother' needs to cleanse herself... we like to leave room for a few contingency things.

Give it a couple of weeks and try not to sweat it too much a bit. But then try to get back with me on this. We have setup a private file here; we respect your privacy but you might want to check the details of fine print on the site here that just keeps a hoing along linking to the indefinite indeed-ly insane rather cool gruelingly cruel more so beyond too colder than natures own ice here which such is ever dear kinder sweeter than the down linking of going to be your bad. However now too understand there are new technologies out there while we are at it if your feeling a bit chilly chilled here now beside all those turn on and off pills and again the bugs are not so clear if they can ever worked out but there are places and they can make it painless, sounds nice right hmmm now ya got me thinking too much again. Susssh's not a word one slip click of mouse here that I don't need meece or even mice just one mouse dig and mine is wired just one little slip click and oh 'ooops your prioritized and if your a unlucky type of fellow we always need a good sporting specimen of public spectacle. Just so you know we don't want 'Gods Children' acting and playing in love, joy, fun or singing not in that counterproductive heartfelt way. The chips are almost ready and for their own good we wouldn't want you to get in the way!!!

My country right or wrong
we shall still sing her song and bombs away
on you
Bombs away on FDR we think he got away too far
in giving peasants below, our merit, the audacity to inherit,
our country 'tis only for me'

We'll work you until your flesh falls off, nine till five is not enough, to sell our gizmos here and far, to gluttons all alike
Ooops! (melody old man river)
...  Oh tote dat barge and lift dat bale,
ya gets ah little drunk and ya lands in Jaaail

Pull yourself by your own bootstraps, who cares if opportunity naps, while the "America Dream" fades away
cause thirty years of us

America ' tis only for me but not those signers of Democarcy
in Philly where they took that oath, on that **** parchment
I abhor,
on that damnable parchment I ABHOR!!

Laughs and screams,
Smiles and tears
A newly found love,
And "the boy I was gonna marry heartbreak".

You yell at your parents,
Hit your little brother,
And for what?
Because your mad at some high school boy,
Who couldn't keep it in his pants?

You should be yelling at him...
But ohh no...
You could never do that.
"It was a mistake."
He says,
"I love you, and I promise I'll never,
Ever, ever, ever do it again."
And then tops it off with a dazzling smile,
And runs his fingers through your hair,
Kisses your cheek,
And says,
"I gotta run, love ya babe."

Yeah...
He's gotta run...
Run to your bestfriends house,
Because he's bangin' her tonight.

Liar.

Ooops...
He did it again.
It was an accident..
Again.

But you forgive him,
Because you love him,
And he "loves" you.

You throw your friend to the side and proclaim,
"Its all her fault!"

But then one night when yall are hanging out,
He goes to the bathroom,
And leaves his phone sitting on the bed.

BUUUZZZZ

New text message,
From some girl named Brittany?
"Who the hell is Brittany?"

Not thinking,
You open the text.
It says,
"We gotta talk, now."

"Why is this chick wanting to talk to MY man?",
You think to yourself.

"What's going on."
"It broke..."

"What broke?"
"The ****** you idiot."

"What do you mean?"
"I'm pregnant."

There it is.
He did it once again,
And ******* up big time.

Can you forgive him?
There's physical,
Living,
Evidence this time.

You do what any rational teenage girl would do...
You throw a tantrum,
Scream "I hate you.",
And run home to daddy.

You tell daddy...
Daddys mad.
He runs out of the house,
Gets in the truck,
And races down the road,
Without a word.

You go up to your room,
Because what else can you do?

You go to your desk,
And see your drawings,
A beautiful art,
Thats always been your outlet.
But hows it gonna work for you this time?
What are you gonna do?
Draw him on top of the name Brittany,
With his **** in the middle of the A?

You sling everything off your desk.
The pencil sharpener hits the wall,
And breaks,
Leaving the metal blades exposed.

You pick it up,
And begin to draw.
But this time,
There isnt any pencils,
And there isnt any paper,
Just metal and skin.

You hack away at your teenage soul,
Going through your "emo" phase,
Wanting to feel normal,
And trying to make a time machine,
With your blood as the key,
To get rid of all the hurt he had caused.

"How did you handle the pain of all that?"
People at school ask when the word gets around.
"Drawing is my outlet."
You say,
And then walk away,
Pulling down your sleeves,
So your broken teenage soul is encased in last years sweater.

A teenage soul.
At 13,
So alive,
So new.
By 18,
Its dead.

Does the night appeal or is it day,
Does staying close or going far away,
taste better, take your time to digest,
oh this isn't a poll.
just let the answers roll
from the tip of your nib
to the lined paper,
what causes you to fear and what, feels safe,
which is worse homeless man or war-torn waif?
do you prefer white or red,
beer in a bottle or in a glass,
milk chocolate or dark (only 5.7 grams per day)
are you a survivalist or an escapist,
do you drink too much water or not enough,
I can ask a million questions,
okay I exaggerate this stuff.

think for the moment if each choice was only between two,
would there be a pattern, or would you be able to undo,
decisions made that let your cards show before they
were played?

My life keeps me humble,
                        as I jumble,
through my day
                     and mumble,
to myself,
not in jest,
not in play,
I am not certain,
who I am, who am I?
                         I bumble
about the place
as busy as a bee,
do not stop to
look in a mirror
       at my face.

There is a chance I won't recognize me.
I walk quickly so as
to appear not to stumble,
      my stomach rumbles,
and squeals at
different pitches,
bring on the whale
song, sing along
if you know the
words.

This what the pace of life does
leaves me jumbled, I dabble in
dark chocolate, too many times
a day, I love the taste of red,
just a glass or it may go to
                                my head,
I get my heart
pounding in my chest,
wish it was from
working out and not
be stressed.

Enough of me and how are you?
You look good, time pays you
a compliment, love what you
have done with your hair, excuse
me for a moment incoming jumble.

I walk my dog, or does the dog walk me,
fix a leaky hose or just turn off the tap,
the roof creaks over head, are there
rodents in the attic, even in this heat?
The clouds that hang in the sky tonight,
will bring rain to jack up the humidity,
some one some where in their stupidity,
will be flying a kite, Ben Franklin style.
I hope he does not suffer for his enlightenment

So down the Hydro easement in a "house known
to police" something exploded and burns of the
second degree caused trauma and the air ambulance
came in low over our kitchen, shaking the walls
and dog, both have recovered nicely thanks

So they took the burn victim to the hospital
to get fixed up, wherein I ask is there a cure for
stupidity,
humidity, getting in my head,
if I did not have a portable AC
by my bed, not very green of me, eh?
Ooops now you know I am Canadian,
sorry, confirmed, I will just jumble my way
off to bed, I will let you get back to more
important stuff instead...



©DWE072013

If I could keep my thoughts together, life would be so much better!
Thoughts must flow like a river or stream
With no obstacles in between.
They say dementia starts very slow, with certain
Patterns that we should know.
However, is it dementia that we go through? That we forget
What we are supposed to do!
Or is it that we close our minds to the things we are afraid to find?
So many questions can stop this flow
And by seeing these obstacles, the decisions we will know.
I feel the flow of thoughts on its way!
(I just forgot what I was going to say)    ha ha dementia!
Once the obstacle is found, you either remove it or go around.
Your chain of thought is starting to get momentum
Like a train on its track – now look forward, do not look back!
(Ooops forgot what I was going to say)
Oh, yes!  Is it old age ramblings or dementia?
I guess you will have to answer that! I did not look forward – I looked back!
Ha ha – enjoy your mind – because we will lose it with time!

NO. NO SUGAR THANK YOU.

Took the telegram
from the telegram boy.

He looked like an angel.

"STOP!"( stop )it said.
It was from Death.

"Ahhhhh man..!" I said.
"I haven't got time to die!"

I sent a telegram back
quick as a flash.,

" NO STOP!"(stop).

I deleted Death
from my facebook friends.

Death sulked.
Hotfooted it to God..

"Tell himmmm!" Death boo hoo hoo'd.
God called me up.

But I ooops dropped
my mobile down the loo.

Flushed it away.

I hid my soul
behind an ormolu clock

that  hadn't told the right time
for a long time now.

I stuck it to the back
with well masticated chewing gum.

Wrigleys.

The Devil I knew
invited me to tea.

"Is it hot in here or
. . .is it me"

My life struggled like a fly
stuck on flypaper.

"Shall I be mother?"

"One lump or two"
the Devil inquired politely.

"No.  No sugar
thank you!"

Love, you see
Is very easy
Easy as 1, 2, 3
As A, B, C

I give my heart to you
You give me yours
Ooops! Don't break it!
For I'll also drop yours

I point a gun into your chest
And you're free to do the same
Because in us, we trust
That our fingers that can pull the trigger, is too numb

I give my all to you
You give your all to me
I'll promise forever to you
Will you promise forever to me too?

Love is easy, it should be
It's just a matter of give and take
A symbiotic interaction called mutualism
A law called equivalent exchange

But love isn't easy
Emotions, situations, make it so hard
If only it was easy
Poetry won't exist even now

If love was as easy as a barter system
I'll offer you my all, you can take them
And I'll succumb to all that you've given
But love isn't easy at all, love just isn't

Lately I am quite bothered by an
Innocent comment from a friend
Who explained, how he only obtains
Pain, when he reads what my pen

Gets sent, from an end
my mom Says was damaged at birth
And all though it's a joke. I'm told
Every joke contains truth, so first

Let me warn you of the absurd
Outbursts that may occur as u read
Hyperboles, that fabricate trolls that
patrol, with holes in their soul, lead

With similes that prove chivalry
Has now shriveled like these
Two nuts, hidden by my gut so if I
erupt, and ****** proceeds

Excuse the poetic **** bleed;
That are like a *******'s **** beads
But it's how I express what's painfully painful to me, don't be **** please

With that said, so I can now tread.
And wrap my head around the topic
explaining, why all my poetry
is sad, and often

It's cuz life is a beach, like the tropics
And when it's not, to be honest
I get lost in the moment, but also
When I try to write "happy" it's novice

And is more narcissistic garbage
Self righteous, lacking meaning
Like.. Look Here... I'm happy & gay today, oh ur hungry? Cuz..I'm eating

And you should too! Oh your broke?
Your down? I get those days too
So here's a rainbows & a flying unicorn that ***** glitter when he poos

And Don't you worry my friend,
It's always darkest before ****
Everything happens for a reason,
Your grampas cancer will soon be gone

soon as he's dead, So it'll work out
By the way I used that example, cuz
My grandfather died of cancer a few years back, and I was told that it was

For a reason. But when your readin
You want honesty, poetry that's blunt
So I refuse to **** my reader, like a
Preacher, who touches a boys butts

But in a godly way of course, cuz he's a
Man of god... Are you annoyed?
Cuz that's what rainbows & butterflies sound like to a reading alter boy

Looking for solace, looking for depth
Someone who knows how inept
How lonely, this ****** phony world
That only the snakes seem to get

What they want, and flaunt,
so it can haunt them more,
But most don't get what they want cuz
theyre too busy just trying to afford

What they need, and when the Greed
Exceeds what optimism is left
All they have is knowing how sad.
Another felt, cuz relating has swept

Away the feeling, so hard to accept
When their overwhelming life crept
With emotion. Bringing the notion
He can't relate to people or connect

So both monetary & Mental pay
Starts to mount, as a debt
Shows amounts to physically mount him. Til he even feels short on breath

Starting to consider that only death
Can relieve whats received so yes
Forgive me if my writing lacks,
Calming oceans, possessing even less

Patronizing, condescension, set
On a scenic mountain top, where I
Tell u how beautiful, ur office cubical
That's suitable for monkeys is, why?

It's a lie, but ok...the sun will come our
Tomorrow like Annie would say
So when it comes Tell ur creditors who Harass you 200 times, a day

That today's a new day. And that debts
yesterdays, and should be left
In the past. Where they say, to leave
Worries, which is insulting, but yet

I AM the dark one, with poems lacking
Goldielocks featuring her poorage
Or Snow White who lives with 7 men? deflowered more than florist is

Deflowering, & who am I to question a phony psychedelic, enchanted Forrest
It's not my business who's Orifice
A draf is, usin like it's a drawer of his

Cuz dwarfism like Orphism's an art, Snow White users for organisms
No wait, that's not right. Anyway...  
Where was I? ..rightt? ***** division

So, fill up the tub with ice. Make sure
Your "patient"s subdued.. No wait
Ooops ... Guardian angels, playing harps, on a cloud feeding you grapes

As Sunshine, hits your face, with
Beautiful UV rays, but...My concern
Is how misleading, it is when reading
Cuz even a beautiful sun can burn

Telling sometimes ****** things in turn
Happen without any reason
Sometimes good people die & do You know why?cuz if not wed be heevens    

Even more so. Than we are so even
My Sad poems can bring you joy
As much as happy ones, do when a gay teen grows up, & no longer a boy

And faces the pressures of coming out, he can choose this, what is charmin' ya
Or continue to feel safer In ur fantasy
Poem of a closet ..... But Narnia

Doesn't exist. So I leave him this,
Along With the lost, emotional kids
To let em know every scar life gives
Is a trophy, earned, and the life we live

Is Not always rainbows, hugs, kiss
But that's why it's beautiful when it is
& every word stands in this
For every cut on angry teens wrist

To symbolize, he's not not alone.
Or That shes all she needs to be
And I'm sorry to the rest, but this ....
Is rainbows and butterflies to me ...

Bringing up a child, can be difficult,
Especially one with an vivid imagination.
Constantly doing things that get him into trouble,
Always wanting to know "Why can't I".
Usually having band-aids on his knees and elbows.
Supposedly doing what he was told,
Even when no one is watching.

Instigating Trouble!

Sassy attitude towards danger,
Always the first to take a dare.
Immediately, regretting decisions while airborne.
Dirt encrusted jeans and shirt his daily uniform.

Setting sights on the next big adventure with,
Ooops!  That didn't go as planned, as his next words.

Today you bear the scars of yesterday.
Holding court, showing them off
Attention from the girls who want the bad boy.
Trouble should have been your middle name.
So, I just wait for the next call from the E.R.

Would have thought you'd have learned the first time.
However, you do make me proud.
You will always be my baby boy.

IF PARADISE IS HALF AS NICE

Yawns
into my morning

wearing only my
Edvard Munch’s THE SCREAM

Tee-shirt
(so that’s where it’s gone)

which is a mere
miniskirt on her

scratching a well tanned
behind.

All smeared mascara
all Cleopatra eyes

all mad crazy hair
mad as a bag of spiders

dancing
(sleepily to)

Amen Corner
on the summer radio.

Takes my toast
from my poised hand

takes a bite
crunchily...noisily

then puts it back
in exactly the same position.

Pats me
on my head

“Mmmmmm.... thanks Dad! ”

“Stolen toast is always
twice as nice! ”

Sings softly
swaying to herself

“If Paradise is half
as nice

“As the Heaven that you take me
to...”

(Ooops...slops
spills her orange juice)

“...who needs Paradise? ”

“I’d rather...have you! ”

Then suddenly excitedly
talking to boyfriend No.22

on her little pink
glitzy mobile.

Guess my little girl
has(gulp) grown up!

Trump's covfefe
caused a kerfuffle.
The people's voice
cannot be muffled.
A real brouhaha...
The Emperor's absurd
and yet we hang
on every word
and he has every right
to coin a new word
to have his fits of logorrhea
to incinerate North Korea
to mock the handicapped, women, and blacks
to free the super-wealthy from tax
to trash the planet
rob the poor
make the rich richer
and do much more....

"President Trump"
is an oxymoron.
Donald the Chump
is a *****.

Ooops, *****-Grabber's term has expired.
It's time to tell Trump:
"You're fired."

THE CICADAS GOING CRAZY

The night all
darkness and lilac

as if scent and absence
of light  had solidified

congealing about
the waltzing couple

drifting accidentally
on purpose away

from the gaudy
ballroom.

Both now not
daring to

breath in case this
moment would dissolve

the magic
evaporate.

His clumsy hand upon her
naked back for the first

time ever
this foreveer

the flex of her
shoulder blades as if

she were a swan
about to take flight

and be gone...gone

that terrible thought
tolling inside his head.

They only able to see
each other by touch

alone
feeling his breath upon

her right eybrow
she nuzzling into

an Adam's apple that
kept bobbing up

ooops and that was
not all.

He lost in the bob
of her hair

she only had it done
that day.

Their hips brushing against
lilac and darkness

dancing on into
the witching hour

the fadey ballroom music
like an half forgotten

something or other
the cicadas sudden

silence
dissolving into

this mistimed kiss
that nevertheless

he kissed an eye
she kiss a nose

that still
took time's breath away

the cicadas
going crazy.

Willoughby is mad as hell... in 1940... Ooops...


WAR ... AND MORE...


Ever seen the letters W... A and R together before?

Oh yes... Anew not only those are making WAR.

Will that frequent horror ever pass?

That inexcusable "Thing" on Humanity’s ***!

An everlasting incurable boil ghastly sore,

Oozing the worst of Humanity and more?

Constantly coming and going like the tide,

But when and where just a few decide.

People are masters of hate and grisly deed,


Never taught what is wanted might not be of need.

Power and ambition never ask permission,

Whilst irrational hate use provocation,

And millions of lives face elimination.



Eloquence and Hypocrisy firmly hand in hand,

We call Diplomacy... politicians understand.

Greed for power mortal weapons do invent,

And again from brave men in the skies,

More death and hellish horrors are sent,

As angels with devastating metal wings,

Abolish infinitely more than things…

Am I still asking is a God truly up there?

Guaranteed He is near and with many side,

Billions in His glory sanctimoniously hide.

Believed defended by forgiveness and love,

Many are blessed by a man Holier than Thou.

Wars good business throughout history,

Merciless souls hardly thought that a mystery.

Nothing was ever nailed unshakably tight,

Even souls are bought if the price is right.



Most never find meaning in being too meek,

For hardly anyone will turn the other cheek.

As for Humanity’s desperate, everlasting quest,

The God called Power was always the best.

There was never a War ending all that is War,

And just as the forgotten ones in times of yore,

Will you later give a **** what this one was for?

Yet dispensable battalions will always fight,

For pay, honor and what insisted is right.

Brave soldiers always proud not to complain,

Are heroes dying well in seas, mud and rain,

As one more profitable War must be won,

Still wonder… Why the hell all of it begun?


Willoughby

Christmas Eve 1940



Copyright©2013 by Kari M. Knutsen

Sam - she baked me a Cake
served me with red wine
and with the promise of
candle lights
oh ! then sooner in no time
Wandering through the bookshelves
one to an another to an another
rekindle the candle from
smart sunshine and
tasted the cake while
hot dogs and dark cola
keep fueling the day
oh ! then owl clock stop ticking
pebbles were in the rock glass
burn to intoxicant ....
After a while - in short while
surprising cake has served
with chocolate lava
while I eating crusted pizza
oh ! angle became a *****
then in an another while
I found myself
watching my old day cartoons
well hello two Ds !!

*© (ooops I don't hold right - feel free to take)

As I walk along the water front,
in my own little world...

I would sometimes count the footprints,
and then I'd turn with a quick swirl...

Picking up colored glass,
for mom to put in her plants...

and somtimes I'd find a perfect shell,
that wasn't covered with ants...

Dead fish, here and there,
they washed up on the shore...

You'd think you saw the last one,
and ooops there would be many more...

On my way back, in the field I would go,
to pick mom some flowers, for that's where they grow...

Summers at the cottege, when I was very young,
I had to use my imagination for making my fun...

A users not using till he begins abusing
a parents preaching was only a way of a person teaching
if i knew the answeres i wouldnt ask the questions
i was told to always learn lessons, follow the rules,always take notes, use my etiquette to my benefit

Somethings just get left unsaid
what about the boogie man underneath the bed, reminds me of the night i slept in matt's shed
what was the lesson?
a warm beds a blessing
so pay your bills, save your money you dont need so many pills
ooops i ment thrills
Control

I learnt love from an angel
Got a gift from god, unconditional love, my own piece of heaven
Now my life has become ours, i need to be strong
Hold a job,show a good example, give love , keep it together

I remember the lesson but now im the jester
here comes some pressure
time to use...
Use the lesson's
But its been raining ice for awhile now, all i can smell is peanuts, my job is unknown, and im running low on chances
Circumstances

I heard of pandoras box but forget the lesson on how to manage it once its been opened
Ive only ever been told that it stays closed
Now temptations out and she is running wild, long blond hair with a beautiful smile
my neighbors a straw and he sells peanuts, to feed his wife greed she lies through her teeth

If i had the answeres i wouldnt have asked the questions
now the choice is mine and i get to choose my lessons
the mistakes are mine which means i pick my blessings
you are what you learn which means growing's nothing but a lesson
these lessons have become my progression

Some one asked

me

My address

I said" A/7 , Roll no 17..."

Ooops its Room No 17...

:p

Side Effects of

being a

Teacher :)

GRAN'S FIRST FLIGHT...


the bird appears to ooops
stumble & tumble
from cloud to cloud

"If that's what you call flying
I could do better myself!"
affirms Gran

and flapping her arms
takes to the skies

"You won't be needing the wheelchair then?"

My smile
floating

in my compact
mirror

as I get carried along
in a river of people

flowing down
High Holborn

stiletto-ing back to work
with the other temps

laughing gaily
amongst ourselves

looking forward to
a weekend’s Paintballing.

I add a little more
scarlet to my smile.

My smile
gazes back at me

almost in love
with itself.

I trap it
in its little prison

snap
it

shut.


Burdened by
my beauty

almost sick
to death of it.

What others would die for
I’d die to be without.

I shiver
in the sunlight

feeling un-really
real.

It’s not easy
being a myth

especially in these times
of disbelief.

I still recoil
in horror when people recall

that hoary old story
of how I was loved

...by a river.

Oh really Arethusa!

I gather up
my green hair

into a ponytail.

Oh those ****** Greeks
and the stories they tell!

Now I am a millennium
or two

...older

I remain still
as beautiful as ever.

Suddenly a voice
comes after me

his shadow
casting itself over me.

Oh ye Gods!

Surely not here…not now…not…again!

“Hey darlin’…why leave
why such a hurry? ”

Alpheus
that old river God

disguised as a cartoon
bowler-hatted-pinstriped-brolly-carrying English gent.

But the wrong vernacular
gave him away.

The river Yob
as he was known  even back then.

I tried to pretend
I was mist on a mountain.

But he
wasn’t having any of it.

His voice
pursued me

his shadow
the shape of my terror.

Panic’d…perspiring
I turned into a stream

made a run
for it.

The English gent
dissolved as he

poured himself
into his true form.

I could feel his
strong undercurrent

how his waters
wanted to mingle with mine.

I started crying
which only  made matters worse.

And yes…yes
he caught me of course

chased not longer chaste
filled with his lust
  
& it all happens
all over again.

Who’d be a nymph…eh?
Lusted after…turned into a tree or river.

It’s enough
to drive you nuts.

Ye ******* Gods
I hate being a myth!

It’s a curse
having to go through it

every time someone reads it.

It’s so…frustrating!

Tired now.
Ooops this is…my stop!

I shoved Hughes’s
OVID

back in
my rucksack

leapt off just
as the door closes.

There seemed to be some
commotion on the street

and **** and double ****
Holborn Underground

was closed
due to flooding.

My Uncle sleeps
with pursed lips

as if kissed
by a dream.

Perched upon this kiss
a butterfly sits

as if an Uncle's lips
were the most natural

place for a butterfly
to rest

or as if
it were an illustration

of the soul
(a symbol)

in a magical book
that explained such things.

Outside the trees
breathe gently

inhaling & exhaling
a soft whisper of wind.

Bees carve a map
out of the air

for other bees to see.

Out on a limb
two birds sit & chit chat.

A fox(unseen)
passes by

as if it had never
been.

A big big bug
topples off the top

of a tiny stone
onto its back

wriggling its arms & legs
as if it were trying to swim

through the currents
of its fear.

One of the gossiping birds
sees him as a tasty treat.

Eats him.

Inside the house's
El Greco shadows

a kitten
exploring the newness

of the world it finds
itself in

jumps onto
the sleeping statue

of an Uncle
with a butterfly

perched upon
its lips.

Kitten tumbles ooops
into my Uncle's crotch

before climbing the moutainside
that is his chest.

Takes a swipe
at the soul

pretending to be
a butterfly

just as my Uncle
awakens to this reality

& his soul
flits just

out of reach

between the fireplace
& the mantlepiece.

IF PARADISE IS HALF AS NICE

Yawns
into my morning

wearing only my
Edvard Munch’s THE SCREAM

Tee-shirt
(so that’s where it’s gone)

which is a mere
miniskirt on her

scratching a well tanned
behind.

All smeared mascara
all Cleopatra eyes

all mad crazy hair
mad as a bag of spiders

dancing
(sleepily to)

Amen Corner
on the summer radio.

Takes my toast
from my poised hand

takes a bite
crunchily...noisily

then puts it back
in exactly the same position.

Pats me
on my head

“Mmmmmm.... thanks Dad! ”

“Stolen toast is always
twice as nice! ”

Sings softly
swaying to herself

“If Paradise is half
as nice

“As the Heaven that you take me
to...”

(Ooops...slops
spills her orange juice)

“...who needs Paradise? ”

“I’d rather...have you! ”

Then suddenly excitedly
talking to boyfriend No.22

on her little pink
glitzy mobile.

Guess my little girl
has(gulp) grown up!

My heart is hanging far from sight
Am dozing off the wheel of complaint, its a lesson well mastered
A journey travelled so long.
Who am I, not to branch and why not keep the track.
Ooops maybe was led by one's blindness
And what happens I didn't realize it was only the small light at hand
I wont blow it for you to loose sight
Am going to build a better ray of light to guide you with your nature
Prune the plants you let to fade
Water the seeds you left to dry
And your reward will be written in catastrophe.
you offer me a glass, I dare to return it with juice
You leap my run, I still run your race.

Put your head down
Don’t let her in
nor out;
Close your eyes
Twist your neck
Hear the crackle
Read but can’t
Think,only think
Ooops it’s already 6 am
I guess it’s time to wake up

IF PARADISE IS HALF AS NICE

Yawns
into my morning

wearing only my
Edvard Munch’s THE SCREAM

Tee-shirt
(so that’s where it’s gone)

which is a mere
miniskirt on her

scratching a well tanned
behind.

All smeared mascara
all Cleopatra eyes
all mad crazy hair
mad as a bag of spiders

dancing
(sleepily to)

Amen Corner
on the summer radio.

Takes my toast
from my poised hand

takes a bite
crunchily...noisily

then puts it back
in exactly the same position.

Pats me
on my head

“Mmmmm.... thanks Dad! ”

“Stolen toast is always
twice as nice! ”

Sings softly
swaying to herself

“If Paradise is half
as nice

“As the Heaven that you take me
to...”

(Ooops...slops
spills her orange juice)

“...who needs Paradise? ”
“I’d rather..have you! ”

Then suddenly excitedly
talking to boyfriend No.22

on her little pink
glitzy mobile.

Guess my little girl
has(gulp) grown up!

Tick tok goes the clock
Ticking that will never stop
Tick tok
Goes the hand
Where willl the second arm land
Tick tok goes the clock
Round and round without end
Tick tok goes the clock
When will the ticking stop
Tick tok stops the clock
Ooops, theres no one left

Some people have this kind of irritating-abrasive personality that you will come up to judge that their mouth is bigger than their brain! Ooops, is that too harsh? Mind your attitude, because you might be one of them too.