This is a verse, not a song,
Let's gaze on the face of Agamemnon,
For ten years, he had stayed away,
Finally, he arrived home one day,
Yes, away to Troy he'd roamed,
The warrior king made it home,
But, he had been playing away,
His Queenie had a bad hair day,
Her axe did have a double blade,
As in her spa, she made him lay,
She drugged his wine, a loving cup,
Then proceeded to chop him up!
Off with his feet, for roaming so far,
Queenie really messed up her spa,
Off with his cheating hands,
He brought home  **'s from foreign lands,
Off with his attachments,
You can guess what that meant,
Shoved them in his mouth,
as his head went south,
"Feed him to the swine!
It's pig feeding time!"
She yelled at the serfs!
"That cheating dud got his desserts!"
Queenie was having a bad hair day,
Warrior king had been playing away,
But, Queenie had a toyboy anyway,
She always kept smiling,
Looked for the silver lining,
Queenie's wealth was a'piling,
She was a keeper,
Old king now a sleeper,
Queen kept the kids, gold and slaves,
She did get hers one day,
Yes, Queenie kept the lot,
Or was it all a plot?
Queenie's bad hair day,
Warrior king had been playing away,
This is verse, not a song,
Let's gaze at the face of Agamemnon.

Thine distinction between thou and me oh man is,

Thou would call her thy rose,
I would call her mine queen!!!

Lovely queenie
She is so smart she calls me up when I am down always yells at me orders me around

bosses me to move puts me in my place takes no crap from me slaps me cold then laughs at my face!

Lovely Queenie

Impetuous meanie
Drove her tires across my feet
Drives me wild my heart skips a beat...

When she's not here I lose my mind cause I think of her most all the time

I'm not fooled, though you've my attention
time you were schooled
given detention
you're dropping each line...             fumbling each word
but that's fine

you're running scared--

                    give it up hand back the crown

cause queenie this jester put you DOWN

chucks my boy I've got his back

you've been derailed        ===========                       you're way off track



here's a tissue wipe your eyes

cause these words like Embers never Dies

The Queen and Princess Treacle
were sitting in the bath
The Queen let off a raspberry
while Princess Treacle laughed

The Princess dropped a hot one
the bubbles like perfume...
the Queen was quite disgusted
and stormed out of the room...

Treacle was quite perplexed
so laughed a little more
'til Queenie shouted oh so loud;
' You filthy royal ***** '

Treacle released a sinister laugh
a ***** she might be...
Yet Philip didn't seem to mind
removing her dungerees

he done her in the palace gardens
late one summer's night
Treacle was but a young lesbian
but he sorted her out alright

As Treacle's secret garden doors were
opened, under the light of the moon...
Queenie did bellow for her corgis
searching from room to room...

but all she found was Philip
shafting Treacle on the lawn
so they had a royal *******
then watched some German ****

“Words fall short ever in my heart,
Lines from my lips really fails to start,
When I try to pen you with, lexicon’s art.
Rhymes are scattered all in the sky,
Like a fleet of scurrilous beautiful butterflies,
To comprehend you but, I do not qualify.
Hours now my canvas is unspoken,
Scribbled your name just as a token,
Only to realize then, your name in itself, is a poem.”

Abbie hailed a yellow top cabbie

Brenda had a sister in-law named Glenda

Cate ran late on her first date

Delly ate seven bowls of lemon jelly

Edwina drove to the town of Catalina

Fran burnt her finger on the very hot frying pan

Gwen had a strong yen to go and see her aunty Jen

Hope bought her husband a towing rope

Isobel fell under the magician's spell

Joann took her mother on a holiday in a caravan

Kylie went to the dentist with her brother Wylie

Lesley liked listening to Elvis Presley

Marcia enjoyed eating a freshly baked focaccia

Nell saw a turtle coming out of his shell

Olga lived at the top end of the river Volga

Primrose had a Pinocchio nose

Queenie knitted a multicolored beanie

Ruth could never tell the whole truth

Stacey loved playing dress ups with her friend Tracey

Tilly behavior was always rather silly

Una bought a house in the suburb of Yagonna

Verity wanted to be a well known celebrity

Winifred never stopped taking about Alfred

Xena was presented with a court subpoena

Yale told her teacher a tall tale

Zealand ventured out into the bushland

So tell me,
cause I'm sick of
wondering.

Are
you
ready
to wake-up
alive?

Or am I going to
eating your cake
alone.

For the fifth year
running.
Anyways.

Happy Birthday.
Queenie Belle,
you'd be 46 this year.

***** ***** in denim
They cut your heart when you let them
Those ***** *****
Da da da da der *****
***** *****
Da da da da der *****
  
Now Karen was a cutie
Had her man and a *****
She kissed her man off
And then he beat her
She found a girlfriend
They went to heaven
  
Because those ***** ***** in denim
Rip your thing when you let them
Those ***** *****
Da da da da der *****
***** *****
Da da da da der *****
  
Now Donna was a queenie
She licked her way to the fifties
She found a woman who had a plastic
Way up inside her
It was fantastic
  
She loved those ***** ***** in denim
They'll turn you on if you can catch one
Those ***** *****
Da da da da der *****
***** *****
Da da da da der *****

Chess in the
afternoon sun.
Jazz floats over
the silky couch.
Backs ache, while
hearts break.
Bishop takes knight,
and France falls again.

The masks are all
broken under the
cerulean blue skies,
while she eats berries,
and smiles in her
pink polka dot dress.
The pawns are all smug,
and queenie's on the rag.
Italy surrenders, and from
the grave, Charlie Parker
still hammers home
those soft amber notes.
I can smell her heat, and
I think they play
Jazz in hell.

Audrey, look out the window and see your dreams.
Brydie, lay on the carpet and think of home.
Charlie, stand in the garden and let the rain wash the pain away.
Danielle, shout at the skies for this awful weather.
Ellen, smile as you see a rainbow in the distance.
Fiona, stick out your tongue to soften their fall.
Gemma, pretend there's nothing falling from the sky.
Hannah, dance in the rain in that favourite dress of yours.
Imogen, jump into puddles, one after the other.
Jade, wave to the people going past in their cars.
Keri, open your hands to cup the cold water.
Laura, laugh as the neighbour's umbrella turns inside out.
Molly, hope the grass is better for football tomorrow.
Natasha, sigh as you drive through it all.
Olivia, read a book by the nice warm fire.
Paige, sleep through the hammering of the droplets.
Queenie, scream as you dash through the storm.
Rhianne, fall back onto that squishy armchair inside.
Steph, pray for the sun to come out soon.
Tuula, watch the leaves huddle against the kerb.
Una, listen as they patter patter on the rooftop.
Victoria, take off those sodden shoes.
Whitney, snap another photograph or two.
Xandra, run to get back home to your family.
Yasmeen, follow the trail of the water on the window.
Zara, give up waiting for the rain to stop.

pleasure flowin'
with blue skies full of cigarette smoke.

puff. feeding the king,
make sure she's full
'cuz she's going higher.
not enough for me.

time out, clock spinnin'
like a skyrise,
cracking from its own demise.

queenie chuckles precociously
and the diamonds embedded on her tongue [staccato]
turn to tar.

i would **** for silence.
i smother her with a pillow.
she touched me there,
on the cheek. [accelerate]
i saw her wrinkles turn to corn stalks
and i looked away.

i was always wantin' that pleasure.
my release was at the bottom of stale marlboro lights.
where is QUEENie?

now i wonder where we land

Its time to get your shoes on
to dance the day away
Its time to wave the flag
to celebrate OK
Tis 60 years to celebrate
Queens diamond jubilee
Amazing thats she's done it
such total respect I please
Yeah sure we've had some bad times
and memories to have missed
Yet still she is our head of state
and stronger than a brick
So your majesty ..in your honour
this ditty is for you
because you are our Queenie
Our nation loves you ..loves you do

Now her hands are empty
not a ring or a bracelet
bare as God made them
and I wonder
really, I thought that was so cute
Queenie blushes
just a brush of sunburn
it's a real **** affair
This struck me as funny
that makes no difference
with a big summer colony out on the Point
women mapping their legs
I began to feel sorry for them
they couldn't help it

Some call me a savage,
a bit of a lady ravisher,
but actually
I'm a bloodthirsty pirate,
a bearded buccaneer
by trade.

I plunder & I pillage,
but never do I ****.
I just soothe you
by kissing the sweet-nape
of your delicate neck
& believe me Queenie,
it'll make you move rather quick,
when I swallow your drip.

You'll want me,
beg me to raid
your pretty ship
again & again,
take all of your precious *****.

My parrot will laugh
at my various quips
& don't be alarmed,
there's nothing nefarious
about my peg leg,
'cause it's hollow,
it's where I hide
the golden loot.

Does Queenie love Kingman?
Give it windfury.
Be my magnetic field.
The king and queen are but constructs
Roles they are forced into

Coercion. Co-optation. Join us
Tell us what to think
Tell us - tell them - how to love.
I won't listen as fully as the rest
I make my own definitions.

Succotash. Ketchup. Gluten.
Someone forgot the curds
Mark my words, Gilbert
The bras and kets will multiply tonight
Let's be a scalar

Let's make some sense of
the abstractions

Only
to
be
broken
again?

I crave not sense
I crave the electromagnetic field
Sense is the king
I want the prince

Beautiful black girls
With their fuzzie hair
Arms in abundance
Rich golden words
Oh how they give
Speaking of mandkind
Let me dance with you
Our knees pat and beat
Fingers tough together
Then the music speaks.

Amber was an atheist,
she thought the world was dumb as hell.
Britney was a botanist,
who had a fertilizer smell.
Candice was a coroner,
a scary passion for the stiffs.
Diana was a drummer chick,
that knew a few guitar riffs.

Evelyn was evil, man,
all leather suits and chains and whips.
Farrah was a therapist,
got in my brain with swinging hips.
Greta was a gunslinger,
she'd give most anything a shot.
Hannah was a homebody-
shy as hell, but twice as hot.

Iris was an Ivy Leaguer,
thought I was a total fool.
Janice was a juggler,
who liked to play with power tools.
Kimmy taught karate,
who dated me just for the kicks.
Louise was a lyricist,
who wrote about how guys were *****.

Marilyn was mostly mean,
she liked to fight and then make up.
Nancy was so negative,
I had no choice but to break up.
Opal was an occultist,
who liked to gossip with the dead.
Paula was a *******,
that made me pay to come to bed.

Queenie was inquisitive,
the questions were too much to bear.
Rosie was a recluse
who never shaved or brushed her hair.
Sidney was a sinful sort,
with toys and gadgets 'neath the bed.
Tina was a twisted chick,
with thirteen voices in her head.

Ursula was uber-cool,
always on the latest trends.
Vicky was on Vicodin,
and we all know how that one ends.
Wanda was a wanderer,
that left to join a circus troupe.
Xena the exhibitionist
liked to do it on the stoop.

Yolanda was young and fine,
and nearly cost me everything.
Zoey was a Zombie fan,
she got hot when he would sing.
I'd like to say I've settled down,
but since the alphabet is done,
I'm gonna met an Ann or Anita,
and give it all another run.

The bells tolling and gallow stools
Carved by a crisp knife sharpened by a stone flint-shaped among the garden tools
The molded and weak rose like the solid and stolid coveting
The dolorous limelight seekers were sure about the fun settling
The call-in your wake is sure to make you disagree, subversively
Pretentious till it leads me into ruinous states, with each verse
Troubled and telling about the stoic salacious dread, of your *******
The sins and arresting rebels brought you minister and spirit
The apologetic and shrieking in their walls their apologies
Am I the only one, who thinks
They don't change their disposition
Time I'm tearing you up into fragments
My stories are getting caught up in their endings
Caught by the hook of standing on the ceiling, rear-ended
The knee-deep hell, mountain high harp, what the ****!
Reelin' and rockin' in heaven, indeed purgatory calls your bulls and porgies
Greed and corporeal blood and recipe for dreadful disaster, and luck you yammer about out-and-out too
It's in your flesh and bones, ****** vain too
Feels like time is slipping and sliding out of my oval face and hateful hands
The friends you seek to hold you when you're ready?
Blows, busy days, France in its hey-day had some passion rather saints who come marching in
Are you ready to read your death in the newspapers, when your stomach lurches like holes in the air
Or here from storytellers like a burnt legacy, in the papers that herald flying guns and leveraging politics
And hate, rising with the ashes, the education burning blue like a phoenix
Apogee, really, after so many a doubt and clusterfuck of redactions, I'm ready to learn about counted visage among the many faces on a business street
About my attraction to nature and fantastic reality, I'm jumping with joy
But, smaller than the cosmic bubble that keeps us from dying
I can tell no one, this is our one and only time with faded humor
You're breeding and you're dying with famished and frayed daughters of petulant sons believing hilarious rumors
I am dismembered much to my won't, the stentorious frolicking reeks around astute anecdotes of my pain of having a name
Even it's a fake one and adopted by pretty old me
The antidote of all this, love and peace, it must be the end of fashion and integrity
Peace and love cradling the waves wandering in mystery
Walking among the feet of trembling rage hungry for power, our love is just an island, but, not the little flower that just matured
If I engender myself, I will be free from being prematurely always on
Smidges and shakes for the collared contingent of successful women
For the one, surreptitiously resting under the invisible sun, sticking out their necks for none
Smack her flesh across till light turns still
The center light pops in expectation of blue days and flooring her money on her mind
On the reeling hail, tying the wrong laces and pushing wrong buttons
I left the hall crazed and surprisingly fully-dressed
Snake-like heads facing away from each other with their smothering hands around my neck
I unhand my royal touch and my license for the cream-crop
Not sure about my violence and clammy hands, but, my old man didn't like it all that much
Handing the trembling papers of my record for another dispensary
The errands that I have to run, I would recommend this to no one
Watching movie reruns and playing my new dreams in my trailer park, every time she was the one
Tea and teeming, brink and livid feeling, reelin' with the great high upstart
Cosmopolitans and Neapolitans, I'm probably going play to Jupiter jazz for another meridian of Earth
Red rain splaying like the sand Andalusian like, waving my hands care-free, only to slam my self down easily
Into another speakeasy with a wake-up call and nightcap, dusk till dawn
The day seems brighter and the sun scintillating like the queenie-eyes on the resting sunshine on the iridescent soil
Ecstasy open miles ahead, the eyes lay in peace and capacious lamps full of soul food and meals
Like lamps and little lintels, the coruscating fire makes the colors of the day seem much more real
The tears in Heaven are adjusted for a place in my salvation
Vitriolic, but, mellifluous in it's surmise, you're sure about the music you're hearing
Crouching upon old times like washed memories
Or is it the waters of the ocean afar from snake-like repellent waves of the oceanic dreams
The snake passes by, in the time of your lifeless soul
You were just pacing yourself, the motto is "Always look your prime and best"
They are your true reflection, this is the one and only reflective surface I will attest to, lest I sound sanctimonious
Bo vine and in vino veritas, you're ecstatic about auriferous objects
Sheep and tipping civilization with the conquest of the times, and the same sundial from Eratosthenes that made citadels
The conquest of Troy is any different from the present oligarchy
Librarian of Alexandria, and the Trojan horse of cursed hands mixed with the opportunity
A couplet for a couple of composite numbers is enough to tempt the prime number
In showing up in your  classes brimming with achievers, some students among them
Eratosthenes' sieve is diligent work on simplicity, so yes, whoever reads this, the wake-up call is not a snake bite
This is Stoicism, and poetry is stoic writing cannot be duplicated
The moral could be looking at hopeless dreams, helplessly
Just passing by without shedding any of it on your probity

I am heavily burdened.
My spirit is so gloomy within.
No one is to dine with me;
To dine with this agony!

Oh, I am so doleful!
Who shall encourage, comfort and console?
Who shall hear this boisterous grief?
Shall I expect nobody to cause me relief?

Joy! Oh, why did you leave?
And stole the gaiety like a theft?
In misfortune, now I am alone.
Solitude! In where I was abandoned.

This overwhelming despair!
Oh, I can bear it no further.
Run! I wanna run from this sorrow.
Die! The escape from the dolor of tomorrow.

If living is to cause me pain,
Better to lie in the coffin.
Farewell, Mishap, my good friend;
In the grave, misery and agony, will now end.

By Queenie Florentino
October 10, 2013

Dancing faces in a crowd
but it had to be you
cuddling the light from dark
affording serenity
(chase a star catch a cloud)
We are everything positive
because we are in the making
Fulham Queenie
cast your shawl
winning her bid
for a Croydonite
no more uncertainties

The sun sneaky sun run away in disguise and this guy's looking out, but no sun in the skies which are greystone
my eyes are the same.

I blame this ennui on my local MP who's as much use as a cork on the Titanic, he can talk of the energy crisis, but I have one of my own.
It's not fair that his hot air is wasted, it's not right that I don't have a bean or a light for the night.

it's unseemly that Queenie has billions and there's people that sleep on the street and no wonder the sun doesn't rise in the West when we're past our best and the wrapping's undone and who'd want to meet us in the streets of the potless? it's pointless but sharp all the same

The sun sneaky sun
somehow ceased to be fun
someone give me a gun,
bang.

populist poets... you 'erd 'em? young girls donning pissy pants... they think populism is a "revelation" of reciting pop media... how about the linguo my pretty dear? how about the lexicon my prettiest of dears?! you integrated to the point of surprising the locals with their own idiosyncrasy? no... get's the vote! ha ha ha... n'ah, just kidding... throw 'em overboard! populism, what a horrendous word.. it should be digested with a gall-bloom of absinthe... populism is one thing, then another when it just plagiarises today's-i.e.-being-yesterday's-news tosh: and me just bought me a ferrari, gearing up for: a major twist in the whole tale, the spoken word of the hero of the tale: a mustard gas ****; i'm not even aiming to be funny, first of all i know that i'm not funny, second of all i know i'm pathetic... wishing i played the banjo at an irish jig or a bagpiperpipipipe pict kaylee.*

ah, poor, queenie - there she is again,
her face on a fiver, a tenner &
the twinkle toe twenty banknote,
     is like a face of a "celebrity"
pawn on the headline page of
   a tabloid newspaper -
         given the rich, given the poor,
her face on a banknote has become
just as much as a "celebrity"
on a tabloid newspaper -
  given the rich, given the poor -
ornamental, and sometimes,
if begging for "writing material":
a ****-smeared toss-off;
  my my, i have to add,
isn't the concept of money a jesus
quote and pontius pilate's gesture?
i wash my hands clean!
   give due to caesar, separate to
the dues unto god...
   well... here's my abel's share of
"concern" (english existentialism
should have mentioned the inverted
commas as: too lazy to look up
a thesaurus entry) -
                  **** me, that's yard irish;
well... better sink with the rats,
than swim among the sharks me says,
at least we gets our nibbles,
on the way down!
   now i'm real gnashing my teeth
to excite the frickin' appetite!

when a cashier breaks ranks,
and she exposes all the customer is always right
*******,
when you bid her goodnight and
she turns, all fear and loathing in las vegas
face of forced politeness -
a face that looks more like a hallucination
than expressing the calm of repeating
the endless android-like no-problems boss:
the customer is always right...
     it's like on this Ford-style conveyor belt,
being assembled for nothing other than
a death...
   bought the Bacardi *** and the Japanese
beer.. stumbled...
some kinds of ciders make you peckish,
but this wasn't the 8.2% cider...
              went back and looked for a tube of
Pringles (salt & vinegar)...
walk home eating about 3/4 of the tube...
  just thinking about the face i just saw...
10 minutes from closing time...
     and what happens when you undermine
the impersonal relation between a supermarket
cashier and the shopper...
and groove into the personal relation between
a supermarket cashier and the shopper...
elsewhere it's the obvious polarization,
the: high-ground, the middle-ground...
and then the trenches of arguments...
plus... i haven't eaten crisps in a long time...
that's what a seasonal-based diet does to you...
strawberries? in December?!
                             what?!
                 apples in the middle of summer?!
what?!
           well... i almost forgot how decent
pitchshifter's album deviant was...
back in the day... rumors of being banned
and what not... well... whatever happened
with that band... sure as **** happened...
maybe the whole Queenie Liz the II
   and Johnnie Papa Paul the II cover did it back
then...
               culturally speaking...
back in the *** Pistols decade?
                               you could get away with
anything, things were stagnant or at least plateau
on the Norman side of events.

Never once had friends
New essentials.
Now I cant ever leave em.
Pretend. Were valkyries.
With discipline from heavens..
Benevolent. And ****.
Reese. I love your head.
You so beautiful.
Not knowing. How your worth.
Was priceless. To your death n
Lyssa. Your not shy.
Your eyes are weapons.
Lacey. Your a graceful song.
Chaotic. Mess. But your the best.
Never forget. Shiina.
Your my  queenie.
Need my genie. To grant you every good event. To bring you men.
That you never woulda met.
And hold your head.
In heavens blessings
Ebony. Your a wedding dress.
So silky. And well kept.
Though your parents.
Thought you were best kept.
In the attic. Till you managed.
To evict. The past.
And see the fabric. Bless your chest.
I'm jealous of your *******
Never shame your body.
Your intoxicating to the senses
You **** vixens.
Were so delicious. Ain't it ****.
When you asking him.
For filling your night.
With passion.
Not to pack it full of filler
Like lays packages chips
In plastic *****.
Asking jackylyn.
How come her body is amazing.
But shedont see it.
Crime observed.
No rcmp. To write a ticket.
*** shes to fine. And doesn't
Act it. It's a tradgedy.
She wrote the book on hotness
**** that snot a compliment
She wrote the ******* manuscript
Than next is hailey Kastendieck
Shes the best. Not coming second
To anyone. Shes the angel
In a whiskey glass.
And the shades you need.
To keep a candle lit.
When its pitch blackness.
In the world with out her
Heart to illuminate the path of sanity
Amidst the madness grips...
And sha. Is my badest *****.
I pray she knows. I never hated
For a second.
Shes my reckless. *****.
Her husband's going to need an army.
To break that mustang.
Fore he saddles it...
Shes the gravity. Between. The planets
Her madness is my habitat.
Steven is my man. I wanted bad ****
But never imagined.
He'd be rapped up in so much bad ****
That I'd feel like I couldn't help
Him brings me sadness.
Tyler my little native gangster.
Hope the Angel's make him practice.
Loving within himself.
Till he fades away his vision from the blackness.
And Ricky and jack jack.
Hope you goofs.
Find proof your awesome
In the memories you gotta leave
In bags.
R.i.p. your futures brighter.
And this vacuums cordless and its bagless
**** up all the good ****
Love you all. I prolly forgot
About a million souls I love on this planet.
In a hospital for mental health
But my diagnosis bad *****