A window peeper.
'O who could it be?
A window peeper.
Are they peaking at me?

I walk into a room and suddenly,
'feels like someone's eyes
are staring right back at me!
'O who could it be?

A window peeper!
But why should I care?
A window peeper!
Just go on and stare!

I hide myself and look,
and then I see
somebody's out the window
staring back in at me! ..
with a *******?

Oh, wait a sec!  Crap!
Am I the Window Peeper?

leaden night
heavy, humid

clinging to a weeping
window pane

the spring peeper
greets its kin

with metallic
cheeps

and ballooning
chin


Tom Spencer © 2019

Good And Bad

It was the best of times,
it was the worst of times,
hope you're ready,
for a whole new set of rhymes.
Met a girl, name was Sue,
she got me hard, then left my ***** blue.
Cooked me a huge steak, with a side of carrots,
took a bite and out came lots of maggots.
Getting ready for a hot date,
guess not coming, being two hours late.
Having your kids say I love you,
then telling them, the plans fell through.
Cuddling with your favorite boy or girl,
then on your face they start to hurl.
Driving and singing a cool *** song,
getting pulled over and they find your ****.
Hope to get lucky with all this flirtation,
then get naked and have premature *******.
Bottom of the ninth and winning by two,
making an error and they score a few.
Talking a shower that's nice and hot,
only to find a peeper, your friend Scott.
Writing the great American novel,
but you have to rewrite, you forgot a vowel.
Sitting, relaxing having a cold beer,
all alone, friends just slowly disappear.
Buying a new tv with high definition,
two days later you lose your vision.
Having a car that's fully loaded,
wiring recall, then it exploded.
Future being so bright,
then darkness blocks your sight.
Waking up and it's hot and sunny,
can't go out with no **** money.
Enjoying the indoors, with air condition,
ankle bracelet and still on probation.
Good and bad things will always be there,
it's all in how you mentally prepare.

I traveled seeking otherworldly unknown spiritual erudition,
Twilight was approaching, the village was illuminated; by lit face's and fiery pit's.

Shamanic foot pounding dug into the ancient soil, visages were daubed by psychedelic mirages; as embers flew from the state of consciousness matched.  As tis these wild child's wore feather's as   celestial hat's.

Chant's of healing echoed the earth, an old man with a map drawn on his countenance, and in the palm of his hand's. Stood crooked, spine shifted; with a feather inked with wisdom as the quill's were year's of time's past.

His peeper's as Sunshined glass, aged and freed, he was around the birth age of at least eighty-three; he's lived many form's back before time, before me and thee, he told me " Brandon, I've been waiting for thyself to be seen.

As tis I kneweth a messenger hadst guided me there, I was standing in the shaman's presence, as the plume's covered his hair; he kneweth I needed soul-retrieval, his grin bounced the air.

He brought me into his Wigwam, as tis I felt the demon's inside me, his singing smoked under his breath; verily a man of astral tithing, I passed out from the beastly being's biting.

Mine apparition hadst left me, I was aloft weightless over mine body, I felt as if I died, none more pride or lifes prizing. The medicine man tranced, none need for him to digest any elixers, he's been doing this for centuries, he was a past angel and spirit mixture.

I hath seen mine life's picture, just up high in the cloud's, mine aura climbed atop the great mountain, I didst not want to cometh down; I was watching this tan-skinned tribal just below mine sight; he danced, tranced, danced throughout the night.

Then at the ending before I awoketh, I stared the demon's coming out of me, as tis their infectious breathing got me choking, I pushed out all the thing's trying to latch onto mine burning light inside me, the hellion loveth good soul's, to Satan that's control: anything good is open to their inviting.

I opened mine vision, when the death-bringers left, a holy Bible was placed upon mine chest; as tis the shaman told me his Secretive gift and holiness: he told me Christ he turned to many kingdom's ago, once back when, when he was working as God's angel.

As when I left that small earthly hut of his, he started singing Christian proverb's; reciting Christian hymn's, he wasn't thy average medicine man, he kneweth truth, not fable's nor myth's; before I left he painted mine head with a cross for protective bliss. As whilst at that moment in time, the devil stayed away from mine mind, Satan's chain's wouldst be waiting for him in the brimstone abyss.




©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry

Spring peepers
stop peeping. A satellite
crosses sky. One peeper keeps peeping
in time to the satellite blinking, an eye.
Deep thinking.

There is a longing,
a deep-seated human instinct
that pushes us in to meet
strange people.

Strangely,
technology
has turned me
into a peeper,
legally voyeuristic
with strangers
I have never visited.

I have the delusion
of a connection
because of some
social media intrusion;
Which means
I don’t have to
have a friend
introduce me to them.

I can just chat them up
or watch them
from a cyber distance
with a binary connection
of ones and zeros.

So, this human need
to interact and meet
strangers who are
similar and unique
is satisfied
without any risk
of rejection.

But this is an illusion,
despite my intrusion
I do not know them,

and as this
tacky techiness
evolves
we will
stay secluded in
our sic soft shadows
without actually connecting…
to….to…
User----Offline.

"you're trash"
you would say
as you smiled my way
with a look in your eye
that said
"boy, what a guy"
a wonderful look that said
"you're wonderful" instead
a look that froze time
and stopped my heart on a dime

"you're dumb"
you would mutter
and cause my heartbeat to stutter
with a look in your peeper
that said
"my, what a keeper"
a stupendous look that said
"i want you" instead
a look as powerful as it felt
that caused my cold heart to melt

Red river run
Sand bar island
Green mossy tree
Hang over me

Blue sky clear
Sweet rot breeze
Peeper frog chorus
Lying in the forest

Soft lichen touch
Purple petal peak
Fuzzy bee bumbles
Distant bridge rumbles

Bloop and blip
Sounds abound
Chirps and yips
And coffee sips

It's nice to be alone
To hear the sounds
See the sights
Avoid the fights

Muskrat Hollow
Coyote Creek
Hanging Tree
The place to be.

What am I doing up early crazy hours
I wish I could eat some Italian food
Go see a weird movie,
Talk to a Friend on the phone
Yell as loud as possible
Or go grocery shopping.
Maybe grocery shopping is the way to go
Walmarts always open.
Just got to watch out for the
:pretend; security guards
You know the young high kid that's nineteen working at 3 am
Trying to be cool and bust someone to maybe win that employee of the month badge and a free sub from subway.
Got to watch for peeper eyes.
All I want is a oven-made pizza, chips pop ice.
Also could throw in some random to the mix. Go wild! It's
Wally world!

If the sky were a pool, a swimming pool,
You cloud would fit the rule
Sunglasses and Lillo-pose
Who caught who you suppose?
It's as though you'd just noticed
A human at the window

Peeper human had seen the model cloud
In her fronds of glamour shroud.
You are staring because I'd been
Now you've noticed that you've been seen
With a gusty windward swoop
You drop somewhere into the pool

Ah, I say
And back away...

Defective detectives
Eyes as gluttons
Maketh wishes outta naught
Giveth something for nothing.
Diamond's as peeper's
Sneezer's sneeze hard
Pounding their brains
To their lips that speaketh lies
So enlarged!!!

dingy yellow
peeper
crossing the prison yard
as if crime and punishment
were faded reality
waddling with purpose
to a low spot
flippered feet slip discretely
into what seems only a mud puddle
but for this brave baby
the entirety of his aquatic life
learning to swim
and forage
where the hardest of convicts
drop hundreds of pounds
back into the weight pile –

There was once a girl with a skirt
Who ironically was an introvert
When she saw a peeper
Who got a little too eager
She said to his face: “You ******* pervert!”

Soo many these days
Approach to tryeth and get lost inside anothers peeper's
I seeketh just to get lost into their soul
And no.......

I don't want to cometh back out!!!

Crickets
sounding their
enchanting
sound.
Peeper choruses
from the pond,
finely tuned,
while Bullfrogs
barup their
baritone song.
Swooping bats
devouring,
warm breezes
dancing.
Owl hoots
deep in the
woods.
Coyotes howling
in the
distance.
Evening’s
Symphony
tuned to
perfection.

I am sitting all alone
On a park bench
Waiting for the buskers
To play our songs
Whether they come out quickly
Or take so long
They should be enjoyable
*** *** *** whack him on the ***
Say to each other why don’t you hum
But then after that
The first busker came out
And sang American pie to the crowd
Each verse was sang very well
The last was all so loud
Then they sang joy to the world
By three dog night
And sang out loud being heard right
Into the night
They partied right and all through the night
Never worried what will happen
When the crowd will come out and fight
Then the second busker came
His name was don hoy
And sang on the road again
Thinking about the coach he drove
All over the country
Travelled from Sydney right through
To Perth city
Don hoys version of the song took a while
As he dropped into sale
To pick up Lyle
And take him around the country
They got on well
Being loud, can’t you tell
But Lyle wanted a hot cuppa mate
It isn’t too late
To be with your mate
But I miss my mum and dad
The second song don hoy sang
Was I am Australian by the seekers
You see he missed Judith Durham
And wanted to see her dead body
Through a peeper
When he was supposed to say
We share a dream don said drink
Because that is what the Aussies do
The third song was looking for an echo
And he sounded like ole 55
So as he sang the song
People put money in his hat
The echo was played and
The buskers all went home

I awoke early - now my body will sleep,
though thoughts rise like the Azores
of snuggling next to such an adorable atomic
bombshell of a beauty - boars
into my mind with
sonata fantasy syrup passing
overdrive way past taxing cores
sans crankshaft, pistons and tires viz,
the posted reo speedwagon
deaf fin knit lee unsafe

to open any passenger doors,
where speedometer manifold the limit
inxs of sixty nine miles per hour
as me heart...lures
me to your storybook
swiss chalet, and desire pours
like exhaust smoke awaiting consummation
of ******* - scores
that fills ma cerebral nooks and crannies
even if needing to take dee tours.

Pepé Le Pew
would feel honored if ye wanna reef fur
to myself as duh non tat hood
test tickle your teacher,
'thou noah way would eye ask four
you to pay me any see moo null wage
though my golden arched ethos
parallels that of a sage
homage to my delight with words
incur many a recipient to rage

against my swiftly tail lord
harried style of writing,
whence a reader needs to spend
much time flipping thru each page
of a dictionary or thesaurus,
which mental effort most
often does not engage,
who doth newt tip a fie
formality, thus experiencing virtual
and/or real fine companions

scanned or probably deleted
via tha eyes of another
to jump/kick start a friendship
with this nattering nabob
of nativity modest guy,
whose peculiar mien only his way
to greet with a literary "hi"
and nada Tubi put off per my
poetic manner well nigh
which petic penchant

with words I enjoy to apply
literary creativity and invite
brother/sisterhood a try
incorporating thought provoking
whimsical phrases flush
down into the behavioral sink
toil letting with his lukewarm
scottish matted trademark uber vapid wry
attempts at self mock re: puns - y?

I (d-u-y-e-e-r-93
at aye yo elle dot com) dunno!

Ah...the delirious, glorious,
and illustrious thought
whence never again
to cull demise and forever hibernate
feeling crushed by the egregious atrocious,
heinous, and nemesis, poor ring in of late
and thus this obituary epitaph of sorts
(no matter he will opt
for cremation) finds frenzied
strychnine, poison. or hemlock
appear savory to this pate

a chance pair of perusing eyes
may find this blurb unable to eke quate
this plea sprung from plethora
of purse son hull wreck - I rate
anxiety sweeps across
me mental nada so healthy state
which panic wrought from poverty
per his prone nouns mints uber
viz zit with undertaker tete a tete
of decades long bout

with a psyche riddled with angst
waiting for Godot - Beckett ting
this papa who **** courting
escape from the posse aye bill
misty eyed gorilla in the midst
of his own financial catastrophe,
he loathes resorting regarding pots ability
panhandling to help him get free
of pauperism, which haint no joke,
and finds scabrous reply

ample reason to still his life,
though ma lovely grown daughters
would suffer psychic injury,
and forever be psychologically
marred if aye did merrily
row me figurative boat
over the abyss prithee
and hope for instant death
of mine aura, charisma, and karma see?

Tis probably pointless n frivolous
to expect presume salvation
for this married sexagenarian male,
yet nothing this capitalist ventured....
could do no worse
as my psyche doth emulate dancing quale
for being nearly penniless
(in this cornucopia of good n plenti), and rail
ling against fate may bring derision
per an unpredictable scale
argh - doth hardly shed light
on my penurious travail
cuz thy current checking account
without cents nor sensibility
yammers x2c ******* gasps
with a death rattle does wail

boot juiced....maybe lady luck shall draw
the gaze of one philanthropic facebook peeper
(at least enough largesse
to stave off self destruction of spouse)
welcome mat would willingly
be laid out for grim reaper
to whisk me away -
so I kin become an eternal sleeper
though each surviving loved one,
would be inconsolable weeper.

so...with fingers and toes
clasped I fervently pray
this mongrel mutt means
no bone(r) to pick
only that natural animal desire
that libidinal longing
to cop you late need to slay
lest my lament will be oy vey
so please take me -
any which way
yay!

This blurb hunted and pecked out
from ma Perkiomen Valley
mike crow scope pick dell
(actually reef fur ring a computer
manufacturer asthma
***** fide ****** dank cell)
and spends his days of his life
(as the world turns)
where dark shadows lurk
along this edge of night
off in near distant hour alarm
summoning like a suburban church bell
from outer limits of twilight zone
this self anointed force
without raising cain quite able.