It’s not about the Peter Pan Character
It’s the Peter Pan Bus Lines of Forever Enter into after
Someone had made a GM PD-4104 Peter Pan Bus of the past
It was a bus that was formerly in Operation but didn’t last
I was able to buy that scale model bus
I was determined and it had to be a must
The GM PD-4104 is Famous within the Peter Pan Bus Family
But as the Peter Pan Character would say, “Away We Go”
Truly the GM PD-4104 is missed from the Peter Pan Bus Fleet
But rest assured, the Peter Pan Bus Company has the bus in keep
So the GM PD-4104 lived out its function and became history
So there is no longer a mystery
So the GM PD-4104 Peter Pan Bus had its day, but is now vintage
It is now in my personal bus collection being heritage
So the PD-4104 had drove into the Highway sunset right into the Peter Pan Bus Remembrance Garage
So away we go in putting the GM PD-4104 Peter Pan Bus with you being in the know
That’s the end of this show.

Jerry, the GM PD-4106 bus is what I call
There was a period of stall
But wait, that’s not all
The GM PD-4106 bus of the past with possibilities
The bus was once the workhorse at Greyhound being reality
But because the PD-4106 was a bus of the 1960’s, it no longer had a function
The General Manager and Maintenance team had stuffed the bus way in the back in the bus company’s yard behind the garage where no one would notice
The Smith Brothers Bus Company had Heavy Charter traffic, and with all new updated features that the GM PD-4106 didn’t have from the past
So Jerry being had no use, but stay in the back and collect dust
The General Manager and Maintenance felt that was an absolute must
They thought there no fuss
How uncertain they were
But something happened for the good for GM PD-4106 that no one expected
A group needed to charter a vintage bus for a bus museum trip
Jerry was the only vintage bus on the lot
It wasn’t a plot
But I can tell you, the updated buses didn’t like that a lot
Jerry the GM PD-4106 was finally noticed
The updated buses started jealousy around the bus company place
Even the General Manager and couldn’t even erase
Jerry was the talk of the town
So vintage buses, man your stations
You are still the best from vintage back of all time creations
GM PD-4106 proved that
It is pure fact
So what happened to Jerry after the charter?
Jerry became a permanent bus to a proud owner in becoming a traveling motorhome.

The Paul dachs poem

You see that **** said I will get a job in Tuggeranong ACTEW
And I was looking forward to that but then some other **** came in and grabbed my job from under me and I felt like killing Paul dachs because he took the job I wanted ever so much boy is that man such a fucken ****
You see I was trying to learn
The ropes of that job
And bleeding Paul said no mate
But instead you have to work at the sewage treatment plant
And expect a lift at the end of the road
**** **** *******
Paul dachs is a total *******
He promised a job in Tuggeranong
And gave me a job at the sewage treatment plant
Which I liked till I lost my mind
Because nobody was picking me up
You see I decided to quit my day job and work on my art and writing because I feel quite relaxed and my imagination is jumping up and down
And I don't care how I treat Paul dachsy poo he is just a figmit of my past and I should not go back there because Paul dachs is a stupid poo face of a fucken ****
You see I really wanted that job
It was giving me the Chance to move on with my life
But good old Paul dachsy said
Let's give Brian a job much closer to his home with no buses going down there, and
I wish that Paul dachs gets a lesson in life saying what job are you getting us ya fucken poo face old clown
I was really looking forward
To that job and Paul thought it was too far out
I hate that dachsy poo
******* ya fucken ****
You Paul dachs ****
You were supposed to give me a job but you gave it tribey dude and that made me feel so wrong and I think you are a big rich **** and I want to never work for you again


Sent from my iPhone

The Greyhound bus that paused for a moment and couldn’t run
Donald Coffin a.k.a. Dad bus pioneer was no longer among
It was Dad’s soul in the Heavenly flow
It was God throughout being in the know
Donald Coffin a.k.a. Dad as I called him
A man with buses on his mind
It didn’t matter the name and shape
The fact it was a bus and that was enough
I had the opportunity to buy two buses from Mr. Coffin’s collection being the GM PD-4106 and GM PD-4107
They will always be the remembrance of Dad’s life and his bus involvement
The key word is “Commitment”
It was the Bus lesson taught being bus advice
It was Dad’s delight that enlightened me with enthusiasm
His knowledge being experience
I remember a time when Mr. Coffin being Dad was the Greyhound Curator, and the time I assisted him in getting pictures that he was unable to get
Dad was a dedicated bus pioneer
I will remember Dad the way buses that inspired him
He captured my understanding and his legacy of empowerment
Buses will continue to run
It’s Donald Coffin’s spirit that will always be among
Thanks Dad in your wisdom share
I see whispers of love flying in the air
Your time had arrived
Heaven had prepared the highway being the direct route of your resting place
The Greyhound bus was your last ride
It was your chariot to Heaven being your stride
Bus headlights flash in your honor
Horns blow that your bus work is finished
Dad you captivated me, and you will always be distinguished
I will never forget you
Until we meet again.

It was buses you don’t see around anymore
The date was June 3 at the Museum Of Bus Transportation where one can forever explore
Fishbowls that once dominated City Streets
Summer heat with air conditioning aboard no one could beat
What do I-78, 80 and 95 have in common?
Highway buses of many kinds
Capitol Trailways GM PD-4104 AND 4106, Greyhound buses which still do today and the list goes on and on.
However, I want to make a special announcement of the GM PD-4501 Scenicruiser being the most famous of the Greyhound bus family and among other Motor Coach Carriers
School buses of the past
The name Thomas buses that will last
All the buses were all parked with bus company names of who could forget
Continental Trailways with the Beige Tan and red being the Silver Eagle
There was a Flea Market Spring Fling comprising of buses among buses along with many other memorabilia
There were stops along the way such as Harrisburg, York, Hershey, Pennsylvania visiting Transit hubs
We ate dinner at Shady Maples Smorgasbord in East Earl, Pennsylvania
Buses being still around, but they are vintage being museum bound.

Stop battering her mind by invasions
of your curious cultural perversions
Get out of her way I tell you for god sake.
She needs quietude
To come out of her servitude
to repair and restore her aptitude
In the balm and calm of solitude

Her dome is broken with throbs
torn yarns spasm derobes
With velocity escape to infinity
Due to your ferocious felinity

She needs peace to space walk
To gather the ruffled rob safe back

So leave her  alone I tell you
As if she were in ICU

She needs silence to settle
Down to revive her mettle
with rarer precious metals
Cement her mental pieces

Mind can swoop down with trough
Ride on a rough wave's crest
Pat and pacify with suavity
bring back the halo from infinity
zero down the hero with unity,
from a state of KD 
rejuvenate the PD
Back to an ambience of 3D

So Leave her alone I tell you

Let her bleed, perspire in despire
If mind willing, desire compelling
Let it prepare her self, to repair itself
the broken respiration sighs
With high waves of neighs
conspires to set in her scattred inspiration
To the errected pyre of desperation
Asunder to cinder and surrender.

Let the fire embrace her to scintillation
In a catalystic ambiance of ventilation
Mix and suffix with whirling flame
To phoenix her into a healing dame.

For god sake leave her alone I tell you..

Poem

Querido amigo,

Te quiero decir
Que eres patetico, que estás ahí sentado
Que sueñas cambiarlo.

Te confieso que ya hace tiempo la noche no brilla, las luciérnagas
Se han vuelto colillas.

Te lo digo de frente, al reflector que alumbra tu mente, brilla un poco, reconócete un poco.

Se que odias ser el centro de atención, te saca de comfort, se que el chisme te da asco oírlo y nauseas decirlo.

¿La quieres?
¡Vamos en serio!
solo dilo, déjalo ir
y sino ¿lo pierdes? o
es que nunca fue tuyo.

¿Te quiere? probable,
pero no le ruegues.

Querido amigo te escribo, para que no te ahogues en tu laberinto de misterio,
para que no seas duro con tus errores,
para que seas aceite y no sarro.

Atte.
El saltamontes en tu oído.

PD: léelo cuando te sientas perdido...

"Learn to write by doing it.
Read widely and wisely.
Increase your word power.
Find your own individual voice
through practicing constantly.
Go through the world with your
eyes and ears open and learn to
express that experience in words."

PD James (1920-2014)


I took a little trip
To the Isle of Write
There to find
My muse
My light...

I went to a wise man
On a Himalayan hill
For to find
A poem to quill...

I went right
I went left
But the write
Was still bereft...

I went here
I went there
Couldn't find help
Anywhere...

So I sat down
Pen in hand
And thought about
Those foreign lands.

To describe them
I painted with ink
It was hard
But made me think...

Hardly did a day go by
When in frustration
I did not cry...

But at last
The words took flight
I told tales
Of sadness. Fright...

The pen took on
A life of its own
The lines like scalpels
To the bone...

No more struggle
No more strain
I had the write stuff
In my brain...

Now the page
And pen don't thwart...

... the poetry is in my heart!

Eyelash blinkered in hubris Rubik’s knight
Elevation of pogrom ennobled by triaged triumph minus the cynic summation of all light
Littoral swank bronzed like starlet fantasia with a Carey mountaintop jeer
Reichstag extinguished blaring sirens of cacophony capers to benumbed Linkin Park cheer
Knells intrepid by quakes of remonstrance staged in histrionic applause
Southern Colonies shifting in Charleston surgical in orderly slugabed dogged laws
Slipshod through ribbacles of rengall zenkidu among the sertivine poison ivy
Grimace at gamboled rivulets of a moribund Vanilla Sky for departed wiseacres of savvy dicey ICE toxic Harvey Dent slimy
A mannequin Marx Ralph alienated the truest alien by pioneering disdain of a hostage giraffe summiting a Swiss Alp
Master of time 12th bradycardia for Generator design parked beneath escarpments of base aphasia milquetoast in killjoy Strickland nickels away from a gubbertushed mouth
LOST legend enunciating the furor of epochs of egalitarian traipse
Trapped by the bootlick of a wrinkle of Van Winkle revolutionary agape
Curved by soliliquy master of belletrist prose
The vogue can’t help but bunt, balk, denounce the remembrance of Lady Madonna pose
We beat the muckrakers of rummaged lisp of culinary suns that the sons of privilege are emoluments to apolaustic zeal first known to transmogrified nuns, before the poppies made the few into many and the notion of an insuperable line of infinity into a spherical nullification of the concept of none
Estrapade engorges the fustilug magnet of the kitsch Kenosha Chicago Demolition drive-by-derbies “once read”
That two kings one Titanic by skin-color dashed dreams the other both the coins of tails eloped with heady dreams of head
Sacrifice shadow dancing with pettifoggery in slumps of aboriginal dances of marsupial rice
Native to extortion gouged blind as Samson exacts lachrymose cremations of Pikes Peak trick-or-treat aghast with fright
Temples raised in 46 years cemented never in the Mumbo Jumbo politics of those lacking the oceanic schadenfreude among queers
That by their exclusion the panmixia of fluid alchemy is dauntless scrabble limited by NORAD notions of Tears for Fears
Henpecked rooster awakens the serfdom of Ronald’s (sly spy) Drugs sailing with dovetails of elapse downtrodden in modern clubs
Drunken *** addict sell-out charlatans berated  by Ingram Angles sent by maleficence are the grubhub of Harriet Tubman torching promising tapestries with rugged rugs
Slinging the bait of fish-hook dimples on freckled effigies of ****** humiliation outmantled by Mickey weight
I thunder a fulgurant explosion against recrimination of white-collar criminals that philander saturnalia in pretense with facetious swarpollock freight
Crooks of tyranny exhort the paranoiacs of indemnity to sunken canned soup applause of a Warhol extortion
Berating my audience with drooling slavers of inelegant tortoise byzantine like an Istanbul dredged with intortion
Mr Deeds is not a champion of BRE Properties nor the pinnacles of inertia, a psychiatric squeeze
My orange juice is not a car chase against treecheese in terminal punitive disease
Soaring with the prosperous tongue against the walloped nativism of pounced impounds having too much fun
I let the other guardians of the order of salvation pivot vitriol in loaded dice against Orangutans of Swedish minted gum
Caesar died for the seizure of Anglican pride of a namesake percolating millenia for Brutus in the Washington Bullets of a conquered Ottawa on strike carnal with Chauvinism in regional divide
Never has there been a more hollow trope than the agency of deep state defamation of a scurrilous backbite of gnashing pride
Lost to pollster tricks of acquiescence and caricatures of a menacing personage Swift on the Riff but never the snarling Menace of a Blondie Biff
I tower above the anthills of conformity of luxury in Jamaican Bob Sled Teams testing the curiosity of enlightened “What Ifs”
Canada Dry for striking people enthused by Rye abides in the memory of reform that skulks the skunks that make every Scudworth cry
Because a Dental Dam damsel living in streets of peril fascinated by distance is the contortion of entreaty in the pasquinade of attempts at American Pie
May the city of a figurative crucifixion burn with the irony of a thousand suns as Wendy’s burgers unload on prejudice with albatrosses of winsome puns
Fixed data interpolated by convenient lies of serial killers who aim for blue skies shanked in Oswald infamy for the imposture of any flashbang revenge against cinematic guns
I blacklist the Zemeckis villainy as a trudge of travesty
Hedged lies blinkered by Batman and Robin puns redeemed by Dinosaurs of Amnesty
Obviously belittled by futures etched by a more honest infinity
Because 88 keys are not a stroke because the infinite bees know the parlance of divinity
Invited lissome taxidermies of Capone against teetotalers of parvanimity of vainglory overthrown
Showers the honest hominist reckoning of a world where neither crudity of know-nothing radical polarization owns every inept baritone
Crusading a secular war because the gubbertushed eccedentesiast spinsters of Santa Cruz deserve a gassy overtone
Torch the SC Pacific Avenue for peace
Let the world unite behind a singularity with purpose in ventilation of Speedman’s release
That antithetical Jacks of many names are wed with the progeny of enduring lists of NSA protection rather than rentgourge Denver PD eager to chaos decimated by the decimals of a region forever boycott and impeached
To the decisive curling of the frolicked Abandoned Pool servitude crass disasters are the sheol of impudent flagrant overreach
Regnant on the turmoil of invented throne
I scowl at the chicanery of Capone’s Chicago sweltering with Kenosha infamy tossing contortionist strippers a vulcanized bone in a DIA Diamond that even 11,500 years of knowledge is surpassed in condemnation of screaming E.T. calling the right home
Speak Now because the reach of forever is God appeased not by a kowtow but a mobilized ambition for Why? When? And How?
History will remember gentility as the kind steward rather than a Disco Demolition Derby of urbacity venerating a seasonal Golden Cow
Hipsters flock with folly to South African extortion for freebooters who bootlick the aceldama of war against the sublime currency of a winner surrounded by thugs
TOO MANY URBAN KIDS ARE TAUGHT BY REDUCTIVE TAUTOLOGY TO HATE The United States of America RATHER THAN NURTURING SYNCRETISM IN PATRIOTIC HUGS
Imperfect in design with disagreement in plainest sight
Sometimes libertarianism with a Democratic twinge is clearly in the right that should believe in reform even when the footloose girouettism is too tight
Yet forestalled for authentic grit the grisly rentgourge of venal abysses knows the countermand against Rand with hyperboles of the clearest *******
The true flock congregates around scepters built not with militant graft but a promenade of sultry dance for the defiant C.L.I.T.
Exercise with the Rock knowing school buses of dogmatism inferior are distraught
Dying dogmatism is a peacock of industry the yeggs can easily unlock rather than truckle with truculent Scottish Rites tasty with Connery Scotch
Defenders of the misleading staircase because of the carapace of Hovering pertinacity easily won and bought
Neither scary nor deliberate streets are rumpus of elevations of unbounded anarchy considerate but robbed by the illiterate
That the delegated mansion will be robbed by the cooperation of the remorseful idiot recognizing his snide mendaciloquence in destructive Roswell Records limerick
Scowls are on petrol and patrol hoping Tesla is a short of bravado too intrepid to sanction free-for-all profligacy in alleys that bowl
To the Emerald Street lie of hypes of perdition rather than merely a seasonal token embarrassment coal
The fossilized future is the irrevocable past because more respect is needed than the ***** of a maskirovka caste
Diamond Lightning in Bhagavad Gita prancing with the delusion of the everlasting mummification of Brawndo ash
Dinner with Egyptsy malingers on tomes etched flippant in integrity and all about the curated snare of kitsch cash
The cache valley of LASER tag shattered like Joseph Smith flagellating the confederate hayday with articulate gnash
Fast & Furious the amused by Suburban subway know the trailblazer trashes of The Stupids’ being Einstein about Boogie Dubs rather rash
Streaking through a Tucker rule the Buccaneers live for the SoulSeek of a riddled ruler benighted of prerogative of Roger Goodell bumping in his Ferrari the tucked serenade of Tool
Wrong band because they linger in the shadow dancing backpages of scandals of Norweigan hourglasses of shameful hush hush Vikings mining furloughs of pulverized anticipation sand
Humbled retinue shelves the ossified limpid droll drool
As the haze of submarines scouting pridefall galls of indolence betraying innocence becomes moral cigarettes of Menthol Kool
Reparations for chappy chapstick games of bowery riches
The urbane needs to read, discern and maneuver against whiplash found in Navi witches
Swapping homes with crack addict legalese an *** to a bronzed party crackling with cackles Home Alone
Knows a toiletry of escape gullible like Seahawks wishing they could contain a fumbled season by Mahomes
Jones methamphetamine paranoiac manure desiccated by folksy homilies of brimstone cremation deserts his flock to abide by a flagging wayward temptress
Decimated by the agency of time his Austin crenellation flounders in grimace of the untimely swoon his covert empress
Blinded by the light of darkness in subversion
Excoriated for the deeds of his permission to demote commotion into only an acquiescent dance with barbed etch-a-sketch conclusion- a half-baked *******
Quacksalver poetaster wrinkled with hatred simpering paranoia strangled by Hendrix abeyance of turgid delusion
Lurid underground Princeton gilds infested with defected dementia in cozens in the fritty of heralded mistress SHE appointed
Sandlot ravens cloistered the bravado of thirst for chosen words scrappy in clawed henpecks the pointless illegal sanctioned to brusque witticism anointed
Lamps of pathway sparkle with coruscated stargazer Winslet dreamy swank illustrious by providence
Engrenage of delopes of pettifoggery identity staggers the woozy dismal day of disjointed wounds on Native sons Denver can’t damage in a lonely campaign for the prodigal bends of Overlook Lorraine Motel bent
Intrepid in gallantry I swoop the scrivello tusked with might
Penetrating the vivid dreams of the serenade of alpenglow daylight
That love might rule over chance and probability above the specter of dynasty prodigy progeny tithing gravity in rent
Yet this taper of majestic poise will outfox even the careless gambles of the prodigal son Mr Sender already traipsed conquered and went
The mountaintop is so clear from the cloister of authenticity drinking Eminence Front of the WHO rather than the coherence of the near
Because titans shepherd the good flock without insult and not quavering with insuperable time flackey with tremulous fear
I dare this day to outlast benighted ignorance of the narrow gate of a persecution tsunami on a Lisbon tear
Because galloping ahead of the internecine sheds the serpentine craft of 3:1 Genesis met with the worst fleeced fleer
Not auctioned off like ******* vogue to the disfavor of poor taste
I am the true Royal Flush that can always count on the aced basic but mostly acidic flourish of a jest in bass predicated on the basis for Mozart pH
Today could be the summit of acclimated prodigy in startled degrees temerity could never bet against
Because you better bet the Bros and Cos of civilization are skilled in ostentation of Sterling Pound defense
Never offensive to the liturgy of triumph beckoning an apocalypse now tentative memory on a Manifest Destiny frontier rarely on wickers of extinguished cattle ranchers knowing the gamut of acumen to defend a fortress with the best fencing James Bond could dispense
Now is either a cordial joke of a flagrant anarchy balking at destiny
Or the sunrise majesty of the twelve tribes and beyond defeating the stingy bees of infamy
Your choice doesn’t defeat my voice
But your action heralds my loyalty with a triumphant Victoria of an age not for agelast geeks intimidated but living clairvoyance with fidelity to the right choice for the right time to swim in elegant rejoice
(1977 Words)

You will always be
An unfinished poem,
My unfinished poem.

                                        { pd }

I found myself wandering around
the truck stops and trailer parks of
West Sacramento
hung over and thirsty, I found
the first place
I could get a drink —THE ***** BIRD
I sat down at the bar and ordered a Budweiser.
it was basically empty
usual for a Tuesday.

halfway through my beer the bartender slid me another,
“what’s this for?” I said. “the fella over there
bought it for you,” he said pointing to a blind man
and a German Shepherd sitting at a booth in the back.
“you allow dogs in here?”
“nah, but Red’s cool.”

I finished up my first Bud
and walked over to the booth, “hey
thanks for the beer.”
“you should be thanking me, not him
he can’t hear you anyway.”  I looked around.
A paw extended out. “the name’s Red,
nice to meet you.”
I shook the paw, “yeah, uh, Louis.
same.”
“have a seat, Lou.
so what brings you to this dump?” the dog asked.
“excuse me, Red you said? I don’t mean to be rude,
but you’re a talking dog.”
“you don’t say huh?”
“sorry, but this is— incredible .”
the German Shepherd grabbed a bottle of beer in his jaws, kicked back his head
and took a pull,
“yeah? so?
you humans do it all the time
and half of that time the only thing that comes out of your mouths is *******.”
“but why haven’t
I heard of you before? shouldn’t you be famous or
in some record book or —“
“ah, **** that noise” he said,
“I’m too old for that ****.
why do you think I’m hanging out at this **** hole anyway?
no one ever comes in here —“

“HEY ******* RED!” the bartender yelled.
“NO OFFENSE JOE, BUT YOU GOTTA ADMIT,
YOUR BAR IS PRETTY ******! HA HA.”

“so how do you know—“
“oh Frank? how rude of me, I didn’t
introduce you.” Red turned to the blind man in between us
and pawed his right hand, the man smiled and stuck out his hand.
“nice to meet you, Frank. you have one incredible —“
“I told you he can’t hear. he’s deaf.”
“oh, right. sorry.”
Red took another pull of his beer, “Frank and I are ex-West Sacramento PD.
we were partners. narcotics unit.
a few years back
we got a tip on a **** lab at one of the
trailer parks near here. Frank went inside to see if we had the right place. then
BOOOOM. the whole ******* thing blew. Frank went flying. it was
definitely the place. now he can’t see or hear ****.”
“jesus.”
he wagged his tail and laughed,
“yeah, poor *******, if he wasn’t ugly enough before burn marks.
nah I’m kidding. Frank’s like
a brother to me, that’s why I take care of him.” Red grabbed a cigarette out of the pack in Frank’s jacket pocket. Frank lit it for him.
he took a long drag, “you smoke?”


Red and I drank until the bar closed.
we smoked, *******,
played dice (1-4-24). it turned out
we had the same taste for classical music,
Chopin over Satie
and we both agreed
Willie Mays was the greatest
to ever swing a baseball bat.

We got 6 bars and 6 churches,
each with similar congregations.
You might say we got that perfect
balance between grace and humiliation.

It doesn't end there, though.
We're run by a council of six,
if you include the mayor, Orin,
who lost the state election
because he couldn't represent
a cow if he had
crayons and construction paper.
He's got some creds,
if you take into account
he built a tractor museum
in a train depot
moved a half mile down
a minimum maintenance,
travel at your own risk road,
frequented by the hormonal.

But I digress. Oh yes,
we have a council of six,
each from one of the six
similar congregations,
each from one of the six
houses of libations.

However, every first Saturday,
they meet, informally so to speak,
under the torn tarp at Ernie's,
next to the beach volleyball pit
nobody uses, between the dumpsters
and the railroad tracks,
to discuss matters too urgent
for the formal published minutes.

They crinkle their Grain Bin cans
like phrenologists picking
out small crimes that paint
this town true, rural,
downwardly mobile,
cordoned off at the rim.

Few years back, they annexed
Bob Olson's back forty
for one helluva football complex
for our losing team. GO DRAGONS!
But we gotta have it.
Pay itself off in five years they said.
Rentals, events and all that claptrap.
Gloria walks her dogs on the track
everyday. Return on investment.
R O I.
At least she picks up the ****.

Third and Main got ripped up
a year ago last April.
Ain't been paved yet.
I suppose we're waiting
for those more appropriate
appropriations to accrue.

But that's alright,
we saved a fortune firing
our Andy and Barney PD
while Andy was in Afghanistan.
Don't know how they got away with it.
We get two hours of laws a day,
Deputy Dawgs, and meanwhile,
somebody's siphoning gas.
Pretty much sure it's that Keiser kid,
can't hold a job anyway.

I thought better of mowing the lawn today.
I looked at it a bit. Betty, across the street,
is giving me the side-eye as she sweeps
harvest dust from her shingles.
Well Bets, you fussbudget,
I'm working two jobs,
six days a week,
to live in this runt of a town,
so back the hell down.
You may be eighty and spry,
but you got five, count 'em five
courters with John Deere riders tending.

You see, here in the heartland,
where politic is a game played
with cheap beer and hard glances,
where the clapboard houses lose their paint,
where the new, polished surrounds
of seamless siding dictate appearance,
priority and expenditure,
where the churches and bars conspire
to define reputation and aspiration,
the manure-booted men
are denied the dignity of manure
for a sham - for a show
that barely covers the crust and wrinkles
of a town dying slow.

A bus design in delight
It was sit back and observe the sight
A young boy traveling South
Downtown to Downtown being Greyhound’s day
Oh that Scenicruiser Dual Level ride
The craftsmanship of one level with steps leading to another
The GM-PD-4501 being like no other
Seeing the highway from above
There was plenty of joy with everything to think of
Fellow passengers welcome aboard
This is the world famous Greyhound Scenicruiser
A name that goes a long way
But has become a vintage bus to stay
As a youngster, that Scenicruiser brings back many memories
A comfortable ride with suspension
That hound into the night
The only light was the Scenicruisers headlight
The vintage famous bus having its place leading the highway
Yet, GM-PD-4501 in remembrance that will stay every step of the way.

(oh boy, oh you.)*

You told me things that made me believe
you told me things i didn’t wanna hear
you told me things i can relate to
its weird because thats not something that you’re into
you told me feeling you didn’t want anyone to know
Even though i didn’t wanna hear it
I couldn’t say no
Because I want you to know that I’m still here
and I’m not willing to disappear.

Oh boy, oh you,
I wish you knew
What pain I had to go through
All because of you.

-pd

almost full moon earlier
lighting the earth
bright soft light
scattering everywhere

so cold that the wooden boards
comprising the deck
crack and snap at each
foot step
merely soxed ones at that
no heavey shoes

waking after several hours
go by
walking out with hot water
in white china cup
boards snap and
their winter song flies out

hating to return to the warmth
of the bed
would rather be out
under the moon
the moon i've missed,
missed so much

the rhythm of the seasons
bears me not in mind
natural changes since
the beginning of time

but wait for me dear moon?

i didn't mean to be away so long,
and now i don't mean to sleep
inside
away from your charm

beautiful moon
beams down,

silly little one
you can't stop the
eternal march
of this imagined time

tears do no good
resigned
to the deep deep
wisdom of this moon

i sit patiently
when i do sit
patiently

under the light,
the subtle rays
of her monthly
delight

a lone star is visible
this last of nocturnal
checks

morning rushes
closer with her
impending light

clouds cover the heavens
it won't be so bright
when the moon and her light
slip away with this waning
night.

it is said
it is predicted
a blizzard on her way
to cast all astray

dear moon
you and i
will sit
and wait

to find out
exactly what form
this storm shall take!

i love you dear moon
my bestest of companions
but for my beloved puppyhead
well....
you two for sure
but, well, then again
there was Pd

we all love you dear moon

you regulate our ******
those of us with ******
and regulate our charms

always
eternally
in harmony
with you
whether we know it

or not!

I've been sailing on this boat
Trying to be strong
You see this boat
Has cracks lot's of them
I'ts not that I don't see
No I just turn a blind eye to them
I distract myself the only way I can
I read a lot
I draw and paint a lot
I play  a lot
I dance a lot
I try looking for someone like you in everyone
I listen to a lot of PD audio books
But mostly I  think of you
Mostly I think of little S
Mostly I think of you fighting
Mostly I repeat this process all over again
But now I just wish you were here

She braided her nuclear hair back
tight
after she has woken up and smiled at him.
She was prodigiously happy, but
she was more sorrowful
than they would ever know
That made her tear her hair,
leaking reactants into the unstable
environment like
water drip
dripping
from the leaky tap.
That noise drove her to insanity.
drip
drip
one two
three they
drip
drip d r i pd r i p d ri p Dr i P d R I P
she
felt the nuclear waste
run from her eyes
d
r
I
p
P
i
n
G tears, running down hollow cheeks,
but she was the
happiest girl
in the world—her tears were
rose-tinted glasses    but
     no one knew