I sit at the bar of life
Looking forward to happy hour
Another beer
A solicited romance
Something
Even a bowl of peanuts that never came
How I yearn for conversation
Warmth
I can only dream
Seated a few chairs away
Is a rainbow haired hillbilly
Backpacking possums
Gees
Can you imagine
He said he lives under
The outskirts of ****** land
He smiles
I smile
I catch a bee from behind
As the bartendress walk by
My eyes look at her behind
And catch honey
My claim to fame
Oh how I wish I were a bee
And had somebody
Like the rainbow haired hillbilly
That tends under the outskirts of ****** land
I look over at him
He's always smiling
Maybe it has something to do
With playing a fiddle and finding music, finding new paths
Goats and milk
And backpacking possums
Or maybe its sublime
Oh, how I wish I could smile
Feel warmth
Sunshine
And look into her peering eyes

Logan Robertson

7/16/18

The sky is dark the countryside is quiet
But the spur winged plovers cry out in the night
Above their territory they call and fly
Perhaps the hunting fox is prowling by.

The possums hiss on gum tree in the park
And in a yard nearby a terrier bark
At wailing tom cats fighting on the street
For the right to mate with a female in heat.

The night is calm there's scarce a puff of breeze
And boobook owl hunting for small birds in the cypress trees
Repeat the same call over and again
And frogs are croaking in the pond and drain.

The countryside may seem quiet after dark
But in the sky above the nearby park
The spur winged plovers cry out in the night
Perhaps a fox has driven them to flight.

ANZAC CHUMS AND THEIR MUMS

In Oz the possum grinds on thorn and gum
Far too stretched to visit mum -
Things are hard outback of Bourke
And there’s no time for anything but work.

But Kiwi possums like to visit ma
With flowers for her crystal jar -
They’ll even take a shopping bag of buds
With some greens and beans and spuds.

In Oz the possum is protected
As indeed might be expected -
Beset by fires and drought and prickles
And parched out creeks that slim to trickles.

But Kiwi possums are heaven sent
To slurp and scoff to heart’s content -
When they dine they have the best
And not surprisingly are deemed a pest.

In Oz a treasure - in NZ an imported glitch
There are mixed opinions either side the Ditch –
Mum’s the word on making possums able
To visit home with veggies for the table.

"Now, that Missy...
...is a Trout Possum kiss"
"Welll...I admit...I'd been Alabama'd!"

"You're kissing me
like you're my husband!"
"Well, I'm gonna be...ain't I!"

"Well, I guess!
Give us a taste of that
kiss again!"

"That's the trouble with Troy
one kiss always leads to another!"
"Couldn't wait to say: "I DO!"

"It's been nothing but
50 years of kisses!
Hot **** those Trout Possums!"

"The best kiss?
Is the one that hasn't happened yet
but is just...about to!"

A story of Australian terms plants and wildlife. Ref 022
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
An “Acrostic “poetic tribute to my darling girl
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip 4th October 2018.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A story of Australian terms plants and wildlife.

Six years in the making , it ended all too soon
Two oldies ,lost your husband I lost my wife
Oh you were so Australian n I a winging Pom
Reaching three score years and ten in life
You ‘d have to say “What were these guys on”

Oh it’s chemistry yes the chemistry was right
For t’was a no brainer , I knew I wasn’t wrong

A story of Australian terms plants and wild life
Under this Oz Angel,who tried to get me gone
Something clicked, I had to make her my wife.
That took a good six months to bring together
Racing up n down from Sydney to Melbourne
And we did the road trip up to Sydney to live
Loving the old Aussie towns on the route
In fact we had a year renting in Manley NSW
A story of Australian terms plants and wildlife
New words and phrases and broad humour

Terms like tucker and strine and wowser
Echidna ? that burrowing egg laying mammal
Ringtail possums sitting on the garden fences
Many ,varied and colourful birds in life abound
Some so vocal with a cacophony of sound.

Phil and Barbara born on different continents
Living seventy years on different continents.
And now coming together in a beautiful bond
Nothing to compare in a hundred n fifty years.
That’s the extent of our joint living years.
Segregated on two separate continents

An “ Acrostic” tribute to my darling girl.
Now having met by chance at a family party
Drawn together to form the ultimate affair

Would you not like to hear more about us?
I was scared to venture off the beaten track.
Like I am supposed to be talking nature
Dinkum is something genuinely honest
Love is honest , love is unconditional
I want to make this poem so very honest
Furphy gave rise to an unfounded rumour
Exactly ! Furphy was the early water carrier

An  “Acrostic “ tribute to my darling girl.
Now I know she deserves another tribute.

And I for sure will give it to my dearest one
Coolgardie safe for keeping food cool
Roo meat is tender if you keep it out the sun.
Ockers abound those matey unpolished males
Smoking away their lives in designated areas
These men are the salt of the earth,sociable
I would oft sit in the smoking area and blah
Conversations diverse But I don’t smoke.

Pavlova graces many a table covered in fruit
On the occasional meal out we may partake
Especially at our birthday anniversary treats
Those dates so special in our calendar
I remember June before last we made a trip
Coming over the beautiful Blue Mountains

The trip we made was to Bathurst in NSW
Reminiscing in the town of Barbara’s birth
I was enchanted by the fertile landscapes
Backblocks n outback. Remote country areas
Urgent that we found the ancient homestead
Then met Barbs cousin who still farms there
Even though  Seventy years had passed since

Turned out that he was orphaned as a child
Orphaned when his mother died in childbirth

My God, times were tough in those days.
Yet how I ramble? I should be teaching nature

Diligently I shall try to stick to the point.
A story of Australian terms plants and wildlife.
Ringtail possums possesses essential stoicism
Larrikin ? beware of that grog filled hooligan
It looks like a possum especially when drunk.
Now we were sometimes awakened by them.
Grog is the devils brew if VB is consumed

Grant me a moment of reflection to the finale
I got little to show for my poem of Nature
Rightly this is a tribute to my Darling girl
Let no man think I fantasise. This grief is real.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.
Written by Philip. 4th. October 2018.

Goodbye Charlie, Hello Vietnam.

Nineteen. I was ten and nine. Two A.M. Landed in some muggy, putrid place. Between honor and complete disgrace. Smelled like that for sure.  Issued tools of our trade. Heard the true sound of “rockets red glare”. Had us hunkering in bunkers all night. ******* in our helmets. Holding our ears. ****, the first night. Welcome to Vee-et-nam.

Morning. Sunshine and quiet. Except the rap from old timers. “Newbies“. New jungle fatigues. Newbies. New M-16. Clean boots. All day the old timers, telling each other how these newbies had their cherry popped. First night in country and the biggest *** mortar attack they had ever seen. Heard. Heard, I said. Yeah. What newbie? Now you have heard the real rockets’ red glare. That’s what you heard, Newbie.

I get it. Newbies are ****. We are **** and they aren’t going to waste a breath telling us anything. Watch. Watch and learn. I hope. Lines. Lines to get our teeth rinsed with fluoride. Lines. To chow. To get more shots. To in country orientation. Lines. Memorize lines. Lines to get ammo. Lines to get orders.

No line at the outhouse. Gray three seater. Heat roasting our ****. Old timer kicked the planks before he sat down beside me in the stench. I asked the question but only with my eyes. Kick the planks before you sit down so rats won’t bite your ***** off. Kick the planks to scare off the rats. Rats. The size of possum. Not an exaggeration. Possum rats. Rat possums. Who the hell knew? Just kick the planks. Save your *****.

More lines. Then darkness. Then more booms. Not incoming. Our own. 1-5-5s. Learn the difference newbie so you don’t crap your drawers for nothing. That’s the boys in that artillery firebase keeping Charlie awake for the night. Returning the favor. Charlie. Sounds like a name you would call someone who was a buddy doesn’t it? Charlie. Victor Charlie. V C. ***** Charlie. **** Charlie. Charlie this and Charlie that. Oh, Charlie would eat that rat.

My first duty. Guarding Charlie. Prisoner with leg blown off at the knee in our clean smelling dispensary. Hands strapped to bed rails. MP and I assigned night shift. Keep each other awake . Looked at Charlie. Charlie looked at me. Smirk. Then spit. Landed on my boot. My newbie boot. Not a newbie boot anymore. Charlie squirms. Spits again and misses. MP gets up and threatens to bash Charlie in Charlie’s little head. Medic comes and gives squirming, smirking, spitting Charlie shot of good drugs. Charlie doesn’t spit on medic. Charlie gets drowsy. I get drowsy. MP falls asleep. I stand up. Newbie afraid to fall asleep on guard duty. I wake the MP before shift change. Charlie is up. Smirk, smirk. Thus spoke Charlie. The only conversation I ever had with Charlie.

Medic says Charlie getting on a bird to someplace. Can’t remember where. Anyplace.   Charlie leaving and me staying. Ain’t that a hoot--all it cost him was a boot. Envy is a word I learned that day. Cost him part of a leg medic says when I tell him I wish I was Charlie just then. Had heard tales about people shooting off their toes to get out of the ‘nam. “**** tales” I would call them, since I heard so many in those gray crappers. Rats. Possum rats and your *****. ***** or a limb? Did I really want to be him? I don’t really remember. I didn’t want to be there--somewhere between honor and complete disgrace. Bye Charlie. Hello Vietnam.

It all looked clean, crisp, picturesque postcard promise
The river reflecting skyblue shimmers
Mists rising wisps of secrets
Trees and plants glossy, full bellied, nutritious happy
The birds practising new song and twitching wings
of fancy in the bright 440 volt sunshine
Filtering through
the senses to settle softly.

All was really not that clean and crisp.
The photographer could not zoom in
On a dead kea choked on a 1080 trap
Dropping from the sky like a manna treat
Four fish gobbling pellets pulled upstream
Mouth agape as poison shut the fluttering gills
Two other magpies lost their raucous tone
Deprived by early morning bait
Possums slept softly high up in the tress
With last nights buds bursting in their full bellies

The photographer could not see beauty and ugliness
Together.
The lens could not question the crystalline view
The click was not from gun
digital film rolled irrespective
And his dream of a pristine forest
with no pustules told one side of the story.

The other side
Balanced the books
And tore the heart of the very creatures
That spoke beauty with being there.

The picture was captioned;
Clean and Green.
Was it?
A picture speaks a thousand words
Sprinkled with three hundred lies and lives.
Author Notes

This poem accompanied a lush photograph of forest with a little stream flowing through. In the same area where the photograph was taken, helicopters bombed the forest with 1080 poison pellets to knock off the possums which were eating through the fresh shoots and leaves.

The end result was more than the possums going to thy kingdom come.

There are serious environmental undertones in this poem.

http://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid;=11260667
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 18 days ago

in my child's eye...
it is possible,
for a frog, to choose to fly.
a dog to dance and
cats to swim.

it is possible,
to build a castle,
up into the sky.
to converse with stars.
for elephants to drive,
tiny cars.

it is possible,
that the world,
is without sin
and washed clean,
each morning,
which is to be met
with an insouciant grin.

it is possible,
to befriend the child
you just met....
no matter what creed
or colour.

it is possible,
to forgive
and live,
without regret
and to sleep
at night
without any stress.

it is possible,
at that age,
to know ....
a dollar found upon
the sidewalk,
is a treasure
of great proportions,
if made into,
lollies and shared,
with friends.

it is possible...
that fish can write stories
and possums delight

it is possible to count
a monkey as a friend.

it is possible to ride
kangaroos and
adventure to Timbuctoo

it is possible,
to love spaggetti
as much as your mother.
to make the new kitten,
your brother.

it is possible,
to love your dad
even when he is silly
or mad...


all this is possible...
                   ....and much more
when you are just,
one year, past four...
                      ...and you have a
sunny, lovable disposition
and the world has yet to
find the time, to revise
the freedoms of your amazingly beautiful mind...

            it is possible....
        and in many ways
          so very probable...

This pond  is where I will die,
Squandering in owl hours to ****.
Still, the Ducks swim by.

The blue moon is a Julia Dragonfly
Haunted by a lethal, green dream thrill.
This pond is where I will die.

Threadbare Marauder Rooks squawk a cry,
The stickleback flakes its dithering gill.
Still, the Ducks swim by.

Importunate possums chase ducks to comply,
How could my moon mother be so ill?
This pond is where I will die.

Bluebirds deflate their keels with a sigh,
I gravitate towards their beauty, I am still.
Still, the Ducks swim by.

Aureole Sirius tip toes the sky,
Nimbus withers, Kamikaze men shrill.
This pond is where I will die.
Still, the Ducks swim by.

Here’s to girls who laugh at your jokes 

And don’t want you to **** yourself. 

Here’s to the grind, and all it’s soul-*******. 

Here’s to weasels, and

Possums and rodents of all sorts.

Commence, the hallucinations of

Cream-colored wheat fields, and 

Their straw guardians, 

Harkening to the inept and 

The inadequate, to try their product.

It’s why their older stuff is better, 

It’s why the alternative is the standard, 

Because you’re too **** much 

Like everybody else, 

And inside, it’s killing you.

Like every spelling mistake you 

Forgot to correct, and every 

Fallen soldier, with pop-top wounds, 

Whose blood, you never lapped up. 

Buzz-to-Buzz.

You can’t play the victim, when you’re 

Already the villain.
And the “S” on your chest doesn’t

Stand for your name.
You can try, but anyone with 

The good decency to wear

Sunglasses can see through you.

And then the acid kicked in. 
And
The amusement park of your 

Unimaginable, becomes obvious. 

And there’s a leather belt wrapped around 

Your restrained eyes, lest their be any 

Burglars, out to climb through those windows.

When you’d rather scar up your 

Arms than let them be the 
Better half of an embrace. When the 

Clouds are a few more shades of 

Gray darker than they were the
Day before. When your life is as 

Disposable as your coffee cup 

Or your college education, 

Come find me.

We've been hearing noises in our roof
Dad thought it could be bats~
Mum said we've just moved in
It could well be rats~
So dad got up to take a look
And you would never guess~
He found two little possums
And my goodness what a mess~
There was little bits of chewed up veggies
And some cores of apples too~
Little pieces of pumpkin skin
And dried up crusts of bread more than a few~
They must have been really well fed
For they wasted so much it seems~
And all the time that they were busy
I was away deep in my dreams~
But my dad he caught the both of them
And blocked up where they got in~
Tonight it will be quiet mum said
There will be no din~
Dad let them go out among the trees
And boy did they scramble high~
As they both climbed up the highest tree
Away up towards the sky~

Terrence Michael Sutton
copyright 1981

Hey!

Check out my profile on Facebook. I started studying science for the wrong reasons and I started with biology and will end with astronomy. I was just looking at proven science in all departments. What I found was some awful stuff about stem cells, plasma, carbon, and nitrogen. I refused to be someone who just believes theories from uneducated people. What I have found is that the planet x nibiru stuff seems true to me. I am seeing ionic clouds form and then change into different things. Like an eagle and a fish, deities of India, and other things that blow the mind. I also saw and filmed other things...like a planet and two suns. One sun setting in the west, while more light came from the south. I have photos and video of this. No camera lens flares at all. Black clouds following a bright moon, or planet, that look like clouds of birds in flight. My friend in town recorded what appear to me to be living bald eagles or osprey that fly in different directions, including backwards. These birds seem to have a triangle or pyramid  shape on them. A crow has been hanging out near where I rent, and flying around me in circles. I have always had a thing with animals and they have let me live on them, and I mean wild animals, including mice in open areas, and many snakes, possums and raccoons. I am not sure if this crow is friendly or not, but it seems to be in charge of starlings and robins. I am off of drugs, for the most part and I take no hard drugs(doctor prescribed drugs) and barely even smoke grass. I was told by a doctor that's would die in a short amount of time if I stopped taking my heart and blood pressure pills. It has been over a year and a half. I had many encounters with buckhannon police and one by the name of angel mccauley has been here many times. She has told me that renters do not have the same rights as homeowners and then actually entered the house as soon as me and the others left, for a welfare check. I have in ones the power of goodness and now the police seem to be nice to me. I have not even saw angel since she entered this home. Wvhas had sulfuric acid spills and the factory next door to me is releasing some kind of gas that is heavier than air. This is so bizarre that I know it is hard to believe, but I have some videos and photos.

I have went through many changes of self and I realized that I was not forgiving others of what I thought was trespasses. I would help anyone I can, but my life of minimalism has trapped me. My friends are all poor also. They are the broken ones that I go to when they need me. People are being ran over by trucks and they are people who really cause no harm to others. Hospitals are calling people to come in, and then those people die. I am not anti American, but the next eclipse is going to be only seen from here and it will be total darkness all day. This makes no sense to me, because the planets shouldn't move together.
.
Has anyone else experienced this?

Please keep in mind that my criminal record has some false stuff, and I have never been to prison. I don't answer questions for cops, and I have never been convicted of a felony. I take responsibility for my wrongdoings and I have done some wrong things. I have been rude to people on sites also, but I do not think I abused anyone. It was more of a moodiness and me acting like a fool. I was never out to make fun of gays, nor have I ever a used a woman. I got a little bitter with women for a bit, but I know that not all women are bad, and not all men are bad.

Please add me on Facebook if you want

Facebook.com/gary.loftis.14

I love humanity and I want more understanding. I have realized that I am not as smart as I thought, and I actually feel like I know nothing at all

4:11 am - The nighthawks are starting to resemble pigeons.

Train station is deserted.
An employee checks the bins as the tunnel fills  with the ringing of a distant bell, heralding the arrival of the morning train.
42  minutes till my train.

I can smell the acrid fumes of the Ferny Grove train.
The behemoth pulls away-
empty.

At least I'm not existential anymore.

There is an installation of a coffin made from old bits of railroad,
"Not everyone makes it across the tracks"
This reminder of mortality is strangely fitting in a place of transit.
The true face of memento mori is  shown.
Remember that you too will die, and everything will come to pass.

It's times like this that make me wish 'The Sound of Silence" was never written.
For its perfection in this moment comes as a burst of pure divine bliss.
The kind you wish would never fade away. But inevitably does.
And all we are left with is a memory of that bliss,
everytime we hear the song (after the first time).
As if we are recalling the curves of an old lover from the shadow of yesterdays gone.
Dancing beneath our fingertips, always out of reach.

Memory is never as divine as the moment that burnt it in.

----

4:29 am - It was ephemeral.

The trainyard announcer has a cultured voice.

----

4:41 am - I fear the muse has left me, beauty fled.

DEAR GOD - PLEASE LET THERE BE A CAB AT THE STATION FOR ME.

Selection 11 gave me the water i desired.
11 minutes till the train.
D.O.B. 11/2
Aquarius,  11th  sign of the Zodiac.

Will I see the dawn rise from the train?
There is no light at the end of the tunnel from where I sit.

Inexplicably: I recall the cool river air that bathed us as we lay naked in your apartment,
the smell of cigarettes on our skin, the evening peppered with
scurrying, fighting possums
that danced upon your balcony.
I recall being inside you.

(Then I imagined you being eaten out
by a woman
her lips inside yours,
her curled tongue
inside your hot, bald
golden ****.)

And I came.
Warm and glorious
my children of pleasure
caught in a latex coffin.
Your heaves of pleasure pushing against my chest
with the rhythm of waves.

----

4:46 am - On the train.

Fluorescent lighting is the devil.
Everything is garish yellow.

We  pull up to the station near where you lived.

Your blue  rose lives in a Chinese vase
and no longer smells
of Marlene Dietrich.

you rise before the morning does, watch the black
sky go gray through the shower curtain
lacy shadows cast on summer-night skin
not ready to awaken, blue eyes half-mast to
squint away the fluorescent intrusion as your
mother butters toast for you that you leave behind,
your stomach sleeping too.

yawning, you thank god that the possums are
exercising better judgment as you hold
the wheel at eight and four, shake your knees
at every stoplight, sing billy joel top-volume
to stay alert while the clouds go pink and gold.

you join the real-world almost right away,
asleep before you hit the tracks at westport
tickets tickets tickets grabs your ear, but only just.

your coffee cools in its thermos, forgotten in the
new haven line haze, your nerves all perked up
fighting with the fog between your ears. your nerves
all perked up. your nerves all perked up. you try to
kick the fog to no avail. you all but sleepwalk
down the platform, you barely watch the gap.

hey, wouldn’t it be crazy if he came your dream-voice
whispers to your conscious yes it would be crazy your
conscious chuckles at the thought.

you trip on the overweight businessman’s pennyloafer
and you think how much you need to *** and you toss
your cold bagel in the all aboard trash can and you
think about how crazy you would be to hope to see him
and you hope your backpack isn’t slowing traffic too
much and your nerves all perked up your nerves all
perked up and you shake away the fog one last time and
you get to the end of the long hot platform and you—

hey wouldn’t it be crazy if but yes he’s
there and yes you
don’t know
what to
say but
yes your
eyes wide yes
mouth open
yes you don’t
know what
to say but

*hi,
I love you,
yes

My old Kentucky home
Is a cold unlucky tomb
I live in between the trees
And those that say freeze
I'm down on my knees
As I beg and plead
I try to talk to a world disconnected
And discuss the problems I've detected
Instead I end up feeling dejected
In a state deemed defective
I feel rejected

A downside to living in the Kentucky wilderness
Is hearing animals dying in the distance
And there's nothing I can do about it
Critters whimpering and bones snapping
Barrels simmering and bullets capping
I hear it on the news
Or hear it in the woods
Beasts biting into the weak
******* exploiting the meek
They use their teeth
To play hide and seek

Under the luminous full moon
I hear the death of raccoons
These are the sounds
To which I'm bound
And when I think I've lost them
I start to hear possums
Which engenders fear
Like the mangled deer
Lying on the side of the road
Dead to a world it never knew
And its curiosity never grew
Until a car didn't mind driving through

We should pay attention to one another's problems
Even if we can't solve them
Even if it's painful
It should be our main goal
In a world that's being gloabalized
Location is beginning to matter less
Unless you live where a bomb is being dropped
Then it's up to those that live within crops
To pick up a mop
And help clean up this mess
Which is a lofty task I confess
But I live in a society
That determines the emotions inside of me
So instead of giving up and saying **** me
I'll do the best I can from Kentucky

Driving along
What's that I smell
The daily delight
Of the latest roadkill

From raccoons to possums
In this flattened cuisine
As vultures take lunches
On this finest of dining

Call us the critter getters
Crossing over our paths
Taking them out
As they scurry this way and that

From Bambi to Thumper
And all their forest friends
It does make you wonder
Who you'll run into next

We'll even take out the curious
Who wander on
To that portion of blacktop
To see what's going on

From teetotaling turtles
To slithering snakes
There's not a creature out there
That we won't pancake

So check out the roadkill
If there's still twitch after the thump
Hurry in back
And toss it into the trunk

Because down in the South
There ain't no one can say
That any of us country folk
Let a thing go to waste

Below the Mason Dixon line
If it's fresh enough
We'll take it home ya'll
And have it for lunch

As long as it's fried
There ain't a thing
With cheese grits on the side
That we won't eat

ducks need water
possums need acting classes
a horse needs to run
ligers need fans
and monkeys need macadamia nuts
I need some ray bans
dogs need love
cats need mice
like mice need hide-aways
I REALLY NEED those Frye boots
mosquitos need blood
and fire needs air
water needs a pathway
I need a new weave
feet need ground
sails need wind
Louis needs a direction
and I need their new cd

Our evil plans are unfurled
As we plan to take over the world
Eve and I were so excited that we twirled
We are awesome possums
And we are Valiant Sun Valliants
We own
And Pown

We've been hearing noises in our roof
Dad thought it could be bats~
Mum said we've just moved in
It could well be rats~
So dad got up to take a look
And you would never guess~
He found two little possums
And my goodness what a mess~
There was little bits of chewed up veggies
And some cores of apples too~
Little pieces of pumpkin skin
And dried up crusts of bread more than a few~
They must have been really well fed
For they wasted so much it seems~
And all the time that they were busy
I was away deep in my dreams~
But my dad he caught the both of them
And blocked up where they got in~
Tonight it will be quiet mum said
There will be no din~
Dad let them go out among the trees
And boy did they scramble high~
As they both climbed up the highest tree
Away up towards the sky~

Terrence Michael Sutton
copyright 1981

I wonder at your beauty, strong
Your height tells me you've stood there long
Your beauty protrudes from limbs so grand
Providing cover where you stand...

You glisten in the morning dew
As the sky does lighten
A mother robin does joins you, true
Upon your sturdy arms, which, do her brighten...

Your provide such shelter
From the helter-skelter
For creatures, such as squirrels and possums
Above the wildflowers' lovely blossoms...

Now and then, a cat does race
To, frantically, its quarry chase
And, bird do find your crown
Helpful as they look around...

Sometime ago, you were but a shoot
Which could have been stomped underfoot
Now, you show your majesty
By having grown into a tree.

(10/01/11)

All that she knew was that it was a snowy day
And she was in a horse pulled sleigh
The blanket was covering her
From her knees to her feet.
The thermo of hot chocolate was such a treat.

The frozen lake, the snow covered trees
Was truly a sight to be seen.
the birds high up in the trees
Whistling so cheerfully

Singing songs of  summers past
And how the winter came so fast.
The ground hog not wanting to come out
He knew well what winter was about.
The ground was covered in a blanket of white
All roads and paths were out of sight.
That did not stop this horse pulled sleigh
He had gone thru this many a day.  
He had a covered barn that awaited him
That was the reason he had a grin.
The animals were frantically searching for food
The possums, the raccoons, the rabbits
And The squirrels too.
With one purpose in mind
And that was to stay alive.
As she got to where they were gathered
She pulled out from under her blanket
A five pound bag of peanuts and seed
for her to feed - these poor
Little creatures who always came around
When there was no food to be found.
She was the snow white of this land
Always there to give a hand.
So when you see a squirrel stop and stand
on its hind legs, it’s to see if it is their snow white
Who helped them on this cold winter night.

Before Min Sarginson claimed the cliffs
There were views of Lyttleton Harbour and blue gums swayed in the breeze, subtly givin off perfumes like ya grandmother used to.
From the top of the rotting old macrocarpa  sitting by the balcony, waiting for the kids to enter the dark, dank insides, frightened of spooky possums and spiders, you could see the shops, and the hotel waiting patiently for passers-by yearning for toilets and ice-cream. The sea always shone a thousand diamonds right into ya retinas, partially blinding you as you gazed from Governor's to Godley. Now you can see who's keeping up with Jones' and who cares more for energy efficiency, slanted roofs, succulent gardens and solar panels are now the view from my grandfather's bach.

Possums not only smell nice, but if they really like you, they will put your hand in their pouch and groom you

Cold raccoon hands on your **** are creepy

A rattlesnake will bite the hand that feeds it

Flying squirrels in your bedroom are hard to catch, but cute as hell

Deep down inside, a wild rabbit will always think you want to eat it

What it feels like to bounce off the ceiling when a house explodes because of a gas leak

It is frightening when a squirrel goes into your mouth after peanuts and they are already gone

When you get hit by lightning it sounds like rock and roll

Lightning will strike twice

You must feed a baby rabbit "Special ****" from an adult for it to survive

When you jump from a third floor roof, your legs will go numb....Until the pain hits

It is really bad if a rattlesnake wraps around your steering column while driving

You can walk almost half a mile with a broken hip and pelvis

What *** tastes like

The sound your neck makes when it breaks

You can catch a water moccasin 3 times by the neck before he catches on  and bites you

A woman will make you carry her through a mud puddle, even after you have been bitten by a water moccasin  through an act of your own stupidity

Faint stillness of the night falls swiftly down
and masked raccoons now pillage darkest night.
Fluffed owls with sparkling eyes are flying free
and rabbits, gently moving, sniff the air...
The hounds - from hunter lost - do bay and whine!
Marked deer with spots or racks go pawing trails
and bear cubs ramble near a sparkling stream.
Uncommon moths blink near the lights outside
and possums scramble up the hillside earth.
Soft light of moon obscures the beauty there
and adds romance to this nocturnal scene.
Amid the forest’s trees of pine and oak,
these charms display the gift of God’s design!

What desire was teased
that morning, the pairing
of backaches & amphetamines
left me rocking under sweaty sheets
wide-eyed, the numbers on the clock
passed the Devil’s hour to your time.
You call on me as magpies call each other
after sunrise.

What desire was teased
that drove my frail, bleeding body
with its bloodshot eyes
onto the roads,
passing yards of pacing possums
to your ****** Lake home.

What desire brought a comfortable
smile to my lips as I watched you
pour Bud Light in wine glasses
and call yourself fancy?

The chrome half-moons
under your eyes grow darker,
layered, like nightfall.
The wrinkles on your
forehead are drawn on now,
lucid, in the unwelcome light
that graces through these
basement windows.

You beckon me to the bathroom
where fresh snow awaits.

I wonder why I follow you,
watch you take in too much--
clear the snow from the countertop,
then we attack each other,
we are leopards
on your red velvet couch
only for a minute--
your heavy eyes close
your body gives a final shrug.
I carry the old man to bed,
place cold water on his lips
and lay with him,
pretending to sleep as
his bones rest on my soft skin.

A sad danger always lingers behind callithumpian ways,
[my maternal instinct needs a new outlet.]

Vaguely I recalled
something crawling,
clawing its way into
the bed from the bottom
end.
 
I thought I was dreaming,
until it worked its way
up beside me.
I must have thought
it to be one of the
cats except they
were all dead.
 
In the morning
I awakened to something
scratching at my shoulder.
I slowly peeled back the
comforter to discover
a small sleeping possum
enjoying the warmth
of my bed.
 
My blood curdling scream
ushered him out of the room,
and yes, they can move
quickly.
Disappearing into another
of the bedrooms,
he could not be located.
 
Left with my fear, the indelible
sight of a long grey naked tail
and the inability to locate
the marauder,
I removed a pistol from the
safe, closed the door,
and went back to bed. 
 
The next day after a fruitless search,
one have a heart trap was purchased,
bated with tuna fish. 
In the morning, 2 am, wham;
one possum secured in cage.
 
Come daybreak a fussy but
unharmed possum was released
far from the house.  I felt like 
an SPCA chairperson.  After all,
even possums deserve a second
chance.
-James C. Allen

Once I was best friends with
the greatest hunter ever.
A genuine killer.
Anything that came
inside the fence line
was fair game.
Armadillos, 'possums,
turtles & even a couple of hawks
met their demise when he locked
his keen eyes onto them.
Three or four tom cats
barely got out alive.

He licked & he loved,
scratched doors & glass
with his manicured-nails.
Once, he ate the red paint
off my garden pail.
He had chips in his teeth,
it was funny as hell,
glad it wasn't lead-based.
The cucumbers I grew
rarely made it
to the dinner table.
He'd lay in the vines
with a look on his face
of sheer contentment.

Rolling grapes & peanut butter
were his favorites, but really,
he'd eat just about anything
'cept kale.

When he went blind,
he still got a squirrel
or two & went to
digging up shrews,
left several lying around dead
as proof of his skill.

When he died,
I cried an ocean of tears.
He's buried out
in the backyard
along with his two sisters,
I miss them & their
familiar barks  every day.

The transient nightfall lingers on worn clothes draped over forlorn branches and magnetic pulses pull the once ebbing forest into the singularity
The traveler astounded looks upwards as the skies sing the Earth eclectic
Possums and pretty leaves settle
the river rolls backwards
- imitation of time

Her body felt warm by the asphalt's dark light gleaming
and his body felt tired; aching bones whimper
Fizzy hollows cower, turn to you, and speak some avid gospel

Remember your immortality is limited
but tonight we fly
and fall

This is how it feels
  When the embrace of flaxen foe feeds the eternal encumbrance of esotericism
  When dark locks clamber through foggy basins, up river banks and over foliage of the forest floor
  When the name on a thousand lips is vivid yet inscrutable, how you pronounced the consonants under the bank's stale light
  When the masquerade ends and we're imprisoned in a kiss
  When the dusty moon places a celestial hand on yours, and sighs, for the night one day may never return
  When you danced naked under cherry coloured clouds and the rains beguiled the flesh of your breast

Remember to never forget
as the harsh morning sun will make amnesiacs of us all

this is one of my favs that i've written

    Christmas spirit   (11/4/12)
I hear the birds up in the tree tops sing
I hear the bells in the church steeples ring
I see the squirrels run around with delight
OH MY GOD ! What a beautiful sight.

I see the first snow starting to cover the ground
I hear the old familiar sounds
I see the clouds a silver grey
I see the sun trying to shine its rays.

The rabbits , the chipmunks , the possums too
Under the foliage hiding from you.
They’re all getting ready for the seasonal treat
That GOD has bestowed upon them to eat.
The fish in the ponds, the frogs on the ground
Know that this is the time that CHRIST is around.

Why is it that every living creature knows
Of this time of year
When the kindness of humans fill the air.
All of GODS creatures, no matter who
Or what they may be - are joining together as families.

The Christmas spirit spreading throughout the
Land , air, and sea
And voices singing in harmony.
Let’s open our eyes and ears to the sounds
For GODS love is all around.

The cries of a new born child seeing the light
For the very first time, and hearing sounds
They never heard before- “ as GOD opens up the doors”.
Let us be thankful for all that GOD has given
And make our lives all worth living.

He gave us his son on this glorious day
And to him we all must pray.
He’s shown us what love is all about
And from every mountain top we should shout

“Thank you JESUS for all that you’ve done
For you are GODS begotten son.”
You’ve shown us the way our lives
Should really be- even when we’re living in misery.

You’ve given us the greatest gift around
                      LOVE
Which in our hearts can be found.

© L . RAMS

she had wonderful roses
in many a hue
colours glorious
one even blue
but in her vases
stand only a few
for on her rose buds
the possums chew

amid vast beyond the

culprits pulpit were stirs of

angst / With no mask it

shoved the future choice

leader into a basket / Flow

life take sulfur

downstream where all the

sharks swim alongside a

dolpin’s dream / On a land

by ourselves with no one

too bothersome and the

upside down possums

awaiting the latest

daffodil blossom / Catch

a bee fly with me sleep

upside down and now tis

we / The most beautiful

thing these eyes have yet

to see is thee also I

declare please charge me

no fee for I have no

control over what

direction the chemicals

inside choose for my

words to plea / Rather a

distant moon rise on a

galaxy afar like your

bodies freckled in perfect

place as we stare at the

stars in outer space /

Thoughts of these kind of

things and my heart starts

slow and then begins to

race / The words lack

description of the true

minds inscription what my

soul is in need of prescription

is truly love’s clearest

diction / As some may claim

this only exists in fiction I

am a believer in miracles

as I close my eyes and

know /

As praying, beautifully amen for

snow /

Possums on a wire
Or on a roof.
Wherever they transpire
They remain aloof
To what problems we
Inflate and accumulate

Possums on a wire
Or on a roof.
Little care for how we take fire
And hide the proof
Of what damages us
Until the day
We meet our fate —
Wherever it may be;
Possibly on a wire
Or on a roof.

her face effusively shone
in the serene bush recess
owls and possums enjoyed
her resplendent glow

Young trees stand in clumps,
Bursting forth in tender leaf,
Chattering in the early fall,
Silent in the early spring,
Tender shoots alive,
A school yard thriving.
Thin bark, food for winter starvers,
Antler rubs for summer bucks...
A stand of youngsters
Waiting to be thinned..

The old trees root down,
Twisted, misshapen,
Root masses exposed,
Bolls huge at intervals
Intermittent.
Solitary veterans of Time's war,
Arms twisted and split,
Cracks in the roughened old skin
Letting strangers at the heartwood,
Grown sponge-soft,
Home for squirrels,
Sleep-seeking 'possums,
Note-leaving lovers.

to air:
cold
or burning hot,

ode to trees,
tall,
green leaves,

ode to me,
small,
alone in it all.

ode to convenience
store workers,
without them,

I may      be
sober.

ode to cemeteries,
all the remembrances
colder.

Ode to family
friend, acquaintances.
I have known.

ode to animals,
pets, squirrels,
possums,

ode  to water,
flowing clean
to her bounty

ode to mothers
******* milk flowing
bountiful

ode to what
ever created this, knowing
dichotomy

opposites
so needing were
to Odes

Trump supporters ...
we're supposed to be nice
& understanding
& not suggest
they all chew straw,
play banjos on porches,
or gnaw dogs legs
on rocks in the
desert sun,

that they don't
talk of Yankee money,
the good old days,
& shoot possums
& squirrels
on Saturdays
for fun,

that they actually
don't go courting
with their cousins,
are sure Barack was
a Kenyan Communist,
or think that the earth
is oh 4,000
years old or so,
cos The Good Book
dun told them so,

we're supposed to
be kind,
sympathetic,
walk a day
in their shoes,
feel their plight,

but its hard
its hard,
so hard,
when in actuality
they cast their lot
with a lying ignorant racist
just right out of
central casting,
in a Hillbilly remake
of The Last Days of Rome,
Richie Rich Goes to Washington,
or The Devil Rides Out Bigly.