i'll admit i found him humorous upon first sighting.
he was
obese,
with one leg,
in a motorized wheel chair,
wearing large sunglasses,
a volunteer firefighter cap,
and awkward headphones, circa '79.

"hello there, sir!"
he shouted as his wheel chair and body
shifted, slanted, bounced with each crack in the pavement.

"hey, how's it goin'?"
i called back, with a warm and hospitable tone.
i've been trying to be more social.

"i am blessed, but sir, would you be so kind
as to help me get some food?"

"yeah sure. where's the food?"
good deed for the day.

"i don't know, i guess around this here corner. i'm lookin' for that pizza place."

"oh okay, i think it's just over here past the bookstore."

"alright. what's your name, boy?

"josh. and yours, sir?"

"james. josh it is a pleasure to meet you. and i thank you.
you see i'm homeless, mr. josh. and you wouldn't believe
how often people turn away from me, josh."

"that's awful."

"yes it is. but i pray for them.
they need it.
may the lord forgive them. may the lord forgive me."

"here's that pizza place."

"excellent. would you go in and get me some food?"

oh. i'm buying him food.
that's what "help me get some food" means.

"of course. what would you like?"

i returned ten minutes later with a gyro, a pepsi, and some chips.

"thank you mr. josh," he said with a bright smile, "this will be a fine meal.
now, josh, you have done a good thing. look at my eyes."
he removed his sunglasses.
his eyes seemed normal enough.
"i ain't no druggy or dope fiend. i'm just james w. green. mr. green.
i was a bass player that just fell on some bad luck. now josh, i'm asking
you as a friend to just give me a little more, so i can eat tonight."

this made me uncomfortable.
i hate to admit it, but i began to suspect this uni-legged, bass player, of ripping me off.

i gave him a 5-dollar bill. that's a weeks worth of suppers at taco bell.

he said a prayer for me.

then he asked me on behalf of jesus,
"can you look into your heart and give generously? just one big donation and who knows what could happen!?"

i gave him another ten.

"thank you mr. josh. i appreciate it. remember me? and do me a favor?"

"sure."

"tell the world about mr.green!"

you're welcome, james.

i'm not Agatha Christie in terms of volume,
but i still feel a sickness
      when i'm the foetus
    and someone cuts my hands off
          that are attached to the umbilical cord
that's the mother that's the keyboard that's
    the cyber web, and what not.
i guess it's unforced haiku incision:
    poetry or how to keep a **** in yer ***
in a crowded train...
           they always say that: keep it to yer self...
true that, but when it's waking up in the early
morn and ******* hangover, even the Chinese
poets would applaud the effort...
                     excusing the pristine haiku and rhyme
and getting knee deep in **** -
sure i could have become an engineer
or an Apple pioneer talking about a revolution  
that never ends but actually ends when the next
revision pops up on the speedy shly
               for all 'tings said: Sean was always going
to say all things, a little bit shooner...
      Mish Tooshpencepenny -
                        he does say money-penny, against the obvious,
total badass spy work, that is.
the clocks are dead, the blinds are up, but it feels
like morning, as i lie in bed i know
it's the morning sun knocking on my eyes:
it's less dictatorial, actually everything feels less
dicta, there is no need to pass on the information
of any kind, imagine: morning sun and all the things
that desire for everything to be less rummaging -
the morning sun, a sketch of how it actually feels less
intrusive than what the hell happens in the afternoon...
to be exact, half past ten a.m.,
squash and contemplation of the anti-gentlemanly
consideration of a "stop the quirk **** reroute epi",
lapse into the metabolism, like any addiction:
worthy the romance, bro.
                       and no doctor could write a better prescription,
doctors are famous for their chicken-scratching
type of handwriting, they're one and truly kindred
to be in the white-pill mafia with only pharmacists
able to decipher what is generally thought to be a cipher
morse code...
                          now, if you ask me, i see a poem like
this and think: also a prescription,
              but less white-pill blue-pill and more a hook and
an offshoot for any analogous or otherwise narrative
in a person's daily hygiene / narrative;
i don't know, you might read this and automatically suggest
to yourself that you swallowed an octopus,
                 or that you drank some consecrated holy water
out of the benediction urn in a church...
                 whatever i did, i still remembered my first
lesson in sign language in a primary school playground,
five steps to say it:
a. left palm canvas
                   with index and ******* paintbrush
      slap
b. as           above, although reversed, slap with
         knuckle side of fingers
c. wedge a V / Y          of the index and middle
                            fingers to the side of the canvas (palm)
d. then make a fist and thump it against the palm,
e. the raise your thumb with the fist still intact
           and move it away from the left palm....
psst....
           you just said: y don't you f off?!
                                               oh not personally,
i'm just teaching you sign-language i learned as a kid,
passing on the genes, as it were....
                                             either that or it's me lying
in bed trying to think whether my body is the parasite
with a finite contract, or my ego is a parasite with
a deluded infinite contract - well mascarpone macaroons
to you too... don't know, just felt like saying,
what with the killer clown craze
             and the frivolous: ever dance with the devil
in the pale moonlight?             stance of the old waggler
being all hushy hushy, and not so much pushy pushy
in a public debate; for your eyes only ta d'ah!

The bullet was made by an expert
discovered when removed.
At the autopsy of a young guy
one of several just arrived.
Not a gang war it was known
but a ****** working alone.

The public scared out of their wits
the police under pressure.
Three dead this boy the latest victim
attacks in varied locations.
Was it by somebody from the military
an expert with a unique ability.

No clues was not good to hear
the public afraid to be here.
Tall buildings made them easy targets
when would the next strike be.
Though summer the temperature cold
through information they trolled.

As another victim was gunned down
more evidence was found.
Two teenagers saw a man with a case
get into a city works van.
Contacting with what they had seen
a new image came on the screen!

Every law officer was instantly alerted
a face found to fit description.
An ex soldier with traumatic stress
caution the critical word.
Quickly a sighting was received
the entire force relieved.

A gun battle ensued policemen hurt
not killed in the line of duty.
A swat team eventually shot him dead
in a disused ammunition factory.
News soon spread of the snipers demise
the gloom factor began to rise.

You can never argue with a bullet!

The Foureyed Poet.

you and me in spheres
a sort of we
a sort of book reading
wall-pressed kind of
volk a sighting sighing
pair of hands tender hand-holding clams
that here and over there over each other
in scars open multiple tabs on one another at once

a type of synonyms or homonyms
covered in phlegms
distasteful disease though causatively purposeful
it is all the same thing

a collection of chapters
a sort of you and me that
has become a story with
cat wine and green and
orange wool rolled up like a
pumpkin and windman and a necklace in chains
and three mothers and loose change loose buttons everything loosened up dilapidated
and everything on paper we cannot forget
and everything on paper unwritten
and no end only
cyclical letting and each other
to ventilate and to leave not

The Image Left in the Gutter


This will be a hard read but only if you pay attention to what it says in a dream I found myself in a
Perilous situation on a dark city street I found myself looking down the gun barrel I have looked
Down a lot of them sighting animals while hunting its a lot different when you’re the prey but with a lot
Of   fear and trepidation I just spoke a name and when I did this dangerous person just melted away
But his image a cruel large face long straggly black curly hair and burly body and the arm with the gun was
Quiet visible gleaming up from the wet cement street just a face with crazy eyes a Charlie Manson type it was as if it were painted there
I know you don’t recognize him now but you will it will become clearer because I did you could say an
Exaggeration not much of one we all know we Have a dangerous enemy and we all have heard our worst
Enemy looks back at us from the mirror I had such an enemy he knew as much as I did but with a twist
He used my weakness to his great advantage I have gone to church for a long time but I never deluded
Myself into thinking I would make heaven but like the image that criminal outlaw that ruled my life was
Rendered just a frozen image through my writing it became evident that Christ really had overthrown
The enemy outwardly that had my soul bound by evil at a dark point when all was truly lost truth
Couldn’t be denied but into that shame and disgust he stepped into my life and took every bit of evil
Out and filled it with Himself I finally knew what the word meant if you know him you can’t sin my
Writing was the first indication a particular distasteful thing happened well actually a friend died it elicited many
Feelings anger being the most prevalent I set down to write and I was fired up as they say well it didn’t
Go as I intended the most beautiful words started to flow and the end results people that were hurting
Were blessed and comforted now a new development not to say I’m a coward but yellow brick road
Does spring to mind the problem I have been border line diabetic for a few years but over the holidays
Swollen feet and legs then I guess they call them lesions I call them big bee stings and then like someone
Drilling holes in your legs a little more than irritating your entire mind only thinks about that its hard to
Concentrate on your writing then the unknown double amputee well my feet have been numb I call
Them dead for the last five years but it’s funny how I have a new fondness for how they work now that
They Are threatened and the saying lean on God is just empty words until now as anyone else over the
Years I have had to lean and never has he failed there was a time I was in jeopardy not so much ******
But I was young and this man was just was released from a fifteen year stretch for bank robbery as I talked I
guess he didn’t like my religious ideas he started to give it to me good but a funny thing happened all of
a sudden I felt my backbone have a feeling of turning to hardened steel I looked him in the eye and said
what you might not get but he got it because he just did the numbers for fifteen years I just asked him
where he was going to be in a hundred years he was all ready sixty plus the grin died on his face and we
had a couple of hours of serious talk about God that just before was so offensive I lost contact when I
moved to California I heard about his death I don’t know what he did about his soul but I know he
already faced it that night when God showed me I can handle anything or anyone with Him by my side

I
 
Fold upon fold
your origami letters
map  thoughts,
images and moments
of three days,
two nights.
 
Now to unfold
the creased trajectories,
intersecting space,
following time:
bird-like flightpaths
on the radar screen.
 
Each coloured sheet,
placed on this desk,
becomes a tessellated diary,
and grows beneath the hand.
So generous a gift.
So readily received.

II
 
Ah, that's your secret:
the power of the list;
 this, then this,
 then freedom follows,
 knowing the necessaries
 dusted and done.

  Peaceful now,
  and watching the clouds
  cross the skylight,
  Bach decorates your soul
  with his meditations
  on the possibility of everything.

  How did you guess
  I love the detail of life-
  lived, up to the hilt:
  the embellishment of dreams
  pulled from the ether,
  sound and sense in tow.
 
III
 
I travelled North
in the seat opposite.
You didn’t notice me
as you gazed
through your reflection,
sighting the past.

When you look at me
you rarely blink or
glance away (as people do).
Poor nature,
She hasn’t a chance, has she?
Never a mote missed.

As my passenger
I shall care for your silence;
to let you loose on
unbidden thoughts
as they rise above
the scrolling hills.

when some said hello
some said ha ha,
said holmes without sherlock to signal a sighting
in signature of fingerprinting a shake;
but some said hello,
some shook some with stipend erased freezing;
after all... the doctor allowed a carcass to instil a freed numbness!
a clown frowned attempting to be picky with laughter
mascaraed, and then all hell ready to be hibernating yawned
ready from the hyperbole excused ******* a tadpole into thinking of frogs.
oh we loved the laugh the pouch of orange juiced pulled apart and pulped
into skins and skinny; we were all ready for a hajj there and then!
ha ha! make that scented with coriander!

I saw a man on the
subway today
eating a cup of
vanilla ice cream
but it was no mundane sighting
this man looked worn
like he'd seen some ****
and been through it as well

this man
sitting across from me on the subway
was eating this cup of
vanilla ice cream
in such a way
that it made me think quite a bit
about life

this man
eating a cup of
vanilla ice cream
was eating it as though
it was the first thing he'd ever tasted;
he was eating it as though
it was the best ice cream he's ever had;
he was eating it as though
it was the last meal he'd ever eat;
all at once

this man
was eating this cup of
vanilla ice cream
in such a captivating way
I couldn't take my eyes off of him
he was careful about it
eating slow and steady
with each bite
he would close his eyes
and it almost looked like he smiled
as he tasted it
each and every time

a man
sitting across from me on the subway
eating a cup of
vanilla ice cream
when i get to his age I want to look
that peaceful
and that content
despite whatever **** I'll know

this man
eating a cup of
vanilla ice cream
made me think about life
and i believe it's so beautiful

The Image Left in the Gutter
This will be a hard read but only if you pay attention to what it says in a dream I found myself in a
Perilous situation on a dark city street I found myself looking down the gun barrel I have looked
Down a lot of them sighting animals while hunting its a lot different when you’re the prey but with a lot
Of fear and trepidation I just spoke a name and when I did this dangerous person just melted away
But his image a cruel large face long straggly black curly hair and burly body and the arm with the gun was
Quiet visible gleaming up from the wet cement street just a face with crazy eyes a Charlie Manson type it was as if it were painted there
I know you don’t recognize him now but you will it will become clearer because I did you could say an
Exaggeration not much of one we all know we Have a dangerous enemy and we all have heard our worst
Enemy looks back at us from the mirror I had such an enemy he knew as much as I did but with a twist
He used my weakness to his great advantage I have gone to church for a long time but I never deluded
Myself into thinking I would make heaven but like the image that criminal outlaw that ruled my life was
Rendered just a frozen image through my writing it became evident that Christ really had overthrown
The enemy outwardly that had my soul bound by evil at a dark point when all was truly lost truth
Couldn’t be denied but into that shame and disgust he stepped into my life and took every bit of evil
Out and filled it with Himself I finally knew what the word meant if you know him you can’t sin my
Writing was the first indication a particular distasteful thing happened well actually a friend died it elicited many
Feelings anger being the most prevalent I set down to write and I was fired up as they say well it didn’t
Go as I intended the most beautiful words started to flow and the end results people that were hurting
Were blessed and comforted now a new development not to say I’m a coward but yellow brick road
Does spring to mind the problem I have been border line diabetic for a few years but over the holidays
Swollen feet and legs then I guess they call them lesions I call them big bee stings and then like someone
Drilling holes in your legs a little more than irritating your entire mind only thinks about that its hard to
Concentrate on your writing then the unknown double amputee well my feet have been numb I call
Them dead for the last five years but it’s funny how I have a new fondness for how they work now that
They Are threatened and the saying lean on God is just empty words until now as anyone else over the
Years I have had to lean and never has he failed there was a time I was in jeopardy not so much ******
But I was young and this man was just was released from a fifteen year stretch for bank robbery as I talked I
guess he didn’t like my religious ideas he started to give it to me good but a funny thing happened all of
a sudden I felt my backbone have a feeling of turning to hardened steel I looked him in the eye and said
what you might not get but he got it because he just did the numbers for fifteen years I just asked him
where he was going to be in a hundred years he was all ready sixty plus the grin died on his face and we
had a couple of hours of serious talk about God that just before was so offensive I lost contact when I
moved to California I heard about his death I don’t know what he did about his soul but I know he
already faced it that night when God showed me I can handle anything or anyone with Him by my side
-----------------------------------------------------------­---------------------

My heart is breaking
The earth is shaking
But I'm gonna be just fine
If you find me cryin'
As long as I ain't dyin'
Put your hand on my shoulder, I'm gonna be just fine

My soul is searching
My mind is working
Looking for someone else
I've been a liar
I've been an honest man
But I'm tired of trying to please myself

I'm still fighting
For an angel sighting
But I keep looking down
My shoes ain't talking
They just do the walking
Towards the woman I need to keep around

she was a dancer , her name never known ,
even to her lovers she was a mystery to societies curiosity
her actions were known throughout the world
her escapades publicized in the most provocative ways
her passions flowing , no one could fill her...no one could reach beyond the surface
No one knew her outrageous thoughts, no one seeked out her pain
her words failing to the comparisons of her skin
her opinions drowned out by her flowing hair and glistening eyes
her love unsuspected due to her ***
she was a woman of no woman
the way she spoke shot shivers down one's spine
her walk was one that could stop disasters
she was free , but oh so captured,
all they could see was someone they could use
her frail thoughts
her discontent life , her restrictions
restrictions no man could see
she gave herself to all
but no one
she was an angry one not knowing why she was born herself
why she was alone , and why she couldn't help it with all
the physical , skin on skin , caressing
her soul was empty
her mind was full
no one would fill her , no one would reach beyond the surface
reach through her chest...
of her blood
the pumping vessels
no one could see the little sad girl
all they could see is the carnal urge
exploit  it for their own pleasure
someone that would unimaginably cater to their every need
she was a woman , of no woman
she was a misty memory of their days
not a lasting impression ,
just undeniably beautiful
she constantly wondered if she could live through the day
if anyone would see..
if anyone could be the one to save her ,
if anyone could just reach through her chest and rip out her beating heart
just to prove it had been there in the first place.
quite often she would lie in bed ,
dreaming of her prince
he had been a dark man ,
always in her thoughts,
he had brought her more insecurities then she could ever dream of
but for one reason or another she had wanted him
she had wanted his thoughts,
his breath ,
his words ,
his tone ,
she'd dream of it all down to the freckle,
she had imagined a man so unbelievably unrealistic...the one for her,
the only one she could think that could save her
she needed to be saved ,
she'd been overpowered by her imagination and fluid thoughts her entire life,
they had never come true, and this , this man , she knew wouldn't be any different .
she'd often think of herself , her big light brown eyes , her flowing long hair, her unchanged smile , her brilliant skin tone ,
and slit her self through and through ,
she would open her flesh and think ,
there had to be something more to her than just skin and bones.
but no matter how far she'd look
she could never find
what she was looking for ,
could not be found by her painful injections
her constant smoking ,
her bathing in pure water , she couldn't seem to find anything at all ,
and that's when she decided to stop
to end it all
with one fair day
one sunny day
she knew the day and looked for it in everyday there was
but it hadn't come yet.
but she was waiting.. patience my darling she kept saying
it will be over soon .
He was a man of no man
he was the one everyone looked to for anything at all
he was spiraling out of control
in his own excuses for his ceasing life
his own tormenting thoughts
he was a lonely boy since childhood
he was surrounded by people with their doubts and angst
teaching others to live ,
but had never lived a day in his life
he had sandy brown hair that any woman sweetly touched with ease,
he had light green eyes that any woman would be bewildered by ,
dark flawless skin that any woman would be glad to touch
the only thing a woman lacked for him ,
the one thing that he had longed for his entire life was forgiveness ,
forgiveness for his actions ,
forgiveness for his thoughts ,
forgiveness for his grief
understanding of that would make any woman the one for him ,
except that this quality was lost on the world
hard to find ,
he knew
he searched for years
and one day he gave up
gave up to find forgiveness
gave up looking for one that would grant him his everlasting wish
he had given up his life in all
there were no more excuses
he had decided
a gloomy day he thought to fit the occasion
shot gun to the head seemed plausible
and defiantly permanent.
he searched for that day in everyday he lived.
both crossed paths ,
she never knew this but he had seen her from long away
she was beautiful
she had the quality he knew it
sitting in the coffee shop he approached her
she smiled just like with any man
but he saw right through that smile of hers
he sat her with her speaking , laughing , drinking and he knew ,
she was the one to forgive him and he knew she needed this too
this exact connection they had
she saw him as just any other man ,
playing the field trying to taste her sweetness
but she also saw something odd about the way her looked at her
almost as if he was actually looking inside of her
trying to get to know her insides.
this was impossible she thought..
he took her contact,
told her he would call
she thought he was just trying to be polite
he went home with a big smile on his face .
the world was singing to him
the divine was giving him another chance at life
she was a gift, a gift that would fill his emptiness
he came home and called her straight away.
she answered and they planned another gathering.
he was on cloud nine , shooting for the moon
he set off the next morning to meet her ,
he had imagined the way she spoke the whole way
the way she looked ,
although he couldn't quite remember ,
but her essence stayed with him , her smell her softness,
he felt at bliss , utter happiness
when she woke up that morning , she saw an oddly sunny day
she knew this was the day , taking her own life wasn't hard ,
she threaded the noose around the shower rod ,
fit her head perfectly through the hole
stood on her tippy toes on the edge of the bath
let loose
her neck snapped instantly
she did not shed a tear ,
one thought hung in her mind right before she let go ..
what if he had been her prince...the one she was waiting for.
he sat in the coffee shop for hours waiting for her ,
minute by minute he saw people walking in and out of the building
excitement struck at almost every sighting ,
then followed by shear disappointment .
the afternoon turned dark ,
clouds hung around the city
rain poured down
the gloomy day he's been expecting had come ,
he had felt emptier than he'd ever felt before.
he walked home in the violent rain
stepped in the door of his home for the last time soaking wet
took the gun from his bedside table ,
placed it in his mouth and pulled the trigger
within the second
his last flailing thought was ..
why hadn't she saved me. ..
two lovers that would have been
died within their emptiness and doubt that day ,
never knowing why,
one hadn't saved the other
true love.
A fairy tale.

Take from the poor and give to
the poorer

Drink scorched gold on ashy
bread

Bronze in your fist and silver
in your tooth

You're surely ******,
highwayman

--

Running to hills and sighting clouds like kids again,
Chasing memories that don't want you around

Resurrecting demons like foul-mouthed holy men,
Bones stir deep in your blood-soaked mounds

Hey, man, why do you bother?
Hey, man, why do you care?

Tell yourself again: It's not worth it,
Look down deep and you will find
the twisted nature of the highwayman

Running to the hills and sighting clouds like kids again,
Chasing memories that don't want you around

Resurrecting demons like foul-mouthed holy men,
Bones stir deep in your blood-soaked mounds

Tell yourself again: it's so worth it
Look up high and you will find
the blessed nature of the holy man

(Take from the poor and give to
the poorer
Drink scorched gold on ashy
bread
Bronze in your fist and silver
in your tooth
You're surely ******,
highwayman
You're surely ******,
holy man)

Maybe after sighting
Each other buck naked
That ends the fighting
About whose is bigger
Or whose are real.
There ceases to be a trigger
Of envy, or competition,
As being clothes free
One is in no position
To hide behind frippery.

It is difficult to be snobbish
About your fabric and style
When all you are wearing
Is a sun hat and a smile.
Acting like you are a ****
Of taut body and shape
Wearing nothing but a sock
Makes you a target of japes
About getting over yourself
And maybe even getting real.
It really is that kind of situation;
That basic kind of reality deal.

Most of what is artificiality
Disappears when you’re ****.
It gets easier to face reality
And much harder to be rude.
We quickly see that we are
We are sisters and brothers
And we do not need to live
By rules of fathers and mothers.
They were taught to be afraid
Of body parts called ‘naughty bits’;
Words like ‘nasty’ and ‘stop that!’
You adults can say, ‘I want none of it.
I’m through with thinking my crotch
Is something evil, sick and twisted.
Take my genitalia out of the book
Where you have sinfulness listed.
I exist as nature has made me
And it is wrong of you to correct
The natural person as I was born
Being a ***** is just a side-effect
Of being raised by people who
Were never raised quite right.
Maybe if everyone were ****
That would end the need to fight.

The big, black cat crossed my path again today
As always, slowly walking across the road;
He turned back, around the corner and looked at me
As if to say, I own my path!

The big, black cat crossed my path again today
On this Friday, the Thirteenth
After bumping into the widow housekeeper mopping the floor
And sighting a crow that flew from right to the left;

As the big, black cat crossed my path again today
Shall I ask you; once again,
To wear that artless indifference and the quirky smile
And tell me “What do you ‘get’ from that?”

As earlier when the big, black cat crossed my path
Would you answer, “Come on;
The ******* cat is just going somewhere”
Then, with abandon, say “the journey must continue"

D-Directing is what this guy is exceptional at
E-Ever the master poet of the acrostic format
N-Not many can do it like this super cool cat
I-Inspiring others is what he's so very good at
S-Sighting his terrific work flips one's top hat

B-Brightly his star shines in the vast night sky
A-Always making this day dreamer want to try  
R-Really got to work hard at his precise format
T-Time must be spent to be like a super cool cat
E-Elated one shall feel if this poem is of appeal
R-Reckon it may get the master's approval seal

I'm a flesh addict, sporadic, adrenaline, I love being alive
Feel my muscles pumping blood as I run reckless- overdrive
And I cannot wait for the day, I get to say, I had the strength to survive
Like alliteration of insanity, inside of me, I to I!

But my eyes would be deceived if I said I see life like it's perfect
Like a roller-coaster, going through the motions, twists and turns a better way to word it
Take a seat, and sit with me, maybe then we'll be, like minded
Instead of you, like a lost moose, in the headlights: blind sided

I hate pretending, so, here's my raw aggression
I would take a second, to ******* bash your head in
But I don't wanna get physical, with someone so pitiful
Let's just keep it minimal, and indulge the lyrical

On sighting you I feel ******
Pity, anger, and anguish
Bullied by this *****
A year my senior, having kids

I feel hollow like a steel pipe, hurting like a rough night
I pull my smile too tight, to the point I'm  showing pearly whites
My mindset like, dynamite, my rhymes like, to takes lives,
Like a steak knife I'll carve you up
Eat these bullets, desperate lunch!

Now make no mistake
I sharpen dull blades
And I get carried away
******, serial, and maim

Just crunching numbers okay?
Nothing has changed
You're still the same old, same old
Here we go, another bomb falls!

Just an organic robot, blowing off steam
Of flesh and metal, robotic zombie
I see the cogs and the gears but I don't see a spirit
All I see is sheeple living lives like corporate business

Where's the fun in this? Leech the Government
Have a couple kids, and some funding with
A faded side *****, drugs kicking in
Go party hard with all your fake friends

You are not a parent, just a pa for rent
She is not a mother, just another chick
Using all that money to hit another fix
Coz you ain't cool if you ain't staying lit!

And that's just how it is, juvy and pregnant kids
People telling other people that their life's ****
Graffiti tags and spit, violence just a bit
Lost dreams and broken bottles, vanished innocence...

We all have heard the stories
Of spirit ships and ghosts
That sail upon the oceans
And up along the coasts

This tale is a whopper
And I'll not forget the day
So as God is my witness
Listen now, to what I say

We were sitting in the tavern
Telling tales of days of old
When the door, it burst right open
And Bill came running from the cold

His face as white as ever
Like he just had seen a ghost
When we told him that we thought this
He said " I did, just up the coast"

We laughed and ordered whiskey
To warm us up inside
"I did, by gum, I saw it"
"I saw the Nell McBride"

"There's no way that you saw that boat"
"It's been sunk a hundred years"
"A hundred sixty" said a voice
As we tended to our beers

"The Nell McBride was lost boys"
"Late eighteen  and fifty nine"
"You didn't see her Billy"
"She's sunk down in the brine"

" I did" said Bill , "I saw her"
"I was standing  on up the beach"
"She came out of the clouds there"
"Aw, Bill... cut back on the screech"

"I haven't had a drop today"
"And you know, I don't tell lies"
"I saw the Captain up on deck"
"I looked right in his eyes'

The wind was really howling
We all huddled round the fire
As far fetched as the story was
Old Bill, he was no liar

"The Nell McBride was lost at sea"
"All 14 men were drowned"
"The ship went to the bottom"
"And no bodies were found"

The barkeep chirped "We have ghosts here"
"I have seen a few"
"With all those lost at sea near here"
"I believe in them, don't you?"

We laughed at him and Billy
Ghosts, nope, dead is dead
Bill just sat there shaking
He believed the words he'd said

Now, me, I was a pup then
Just a minnow if you please
But, I sat and felt my hair rise up
I'd not heard of ghosts like these

"The last time the Nell McBride"
"Was seen was in ought four"
"Old Johnson, at the light house"
"Said he saw that ship and more"

"They proved Old Johnson crazy"
"All alone out with the light"
"Was just the moon a playing"
"There was nothing there that night"

Another man chimed in then
"Old Johnson was no loon"
"His diary says he say that ship"
"'Twas no trick of the moon"

"Okay then boys, tomorrow"
"We'll meet here and head on out"
"We'll see the ghost out sailing"
"Or we'll see that she is now't"

The wind was really whipping
It was getting louder as they sat
Nobody was heading home
They were safer where they sat

"Ghost ships sail the waters"
"I believe to warn us still"
"I believe The Nell is out there"
"I believe in our boy Bill"

"There's tales of ships and mermaids"
"There's been sighting of great whales"
"Their stories boy's just stories"
"They ain't nothing more than tales"

At this the wind was screaming
Like a wail now or a scream
My hair was up directly
This could only be a dream

"I remember when Mike Watson"
"Said he saw that woman all in black"
"Waiting on her rooftop"
"For her husband to come back"

"I remember that as well" said Bill
"God, old Mike he loved to talk"
"He saw her on the roof in black"
"On the iron widows walk"

So, tomorrow it was settled
We would meet and hit the coast
Watching for the Nell McBride
Waiting for the ghost

"Boys, we never made it"
"We don't talk about that night"
"See, Billy boy, he left us there"
"And he disappeared from sight"

"Turns out Billy Boyle"
"Drowned early in the day"
"Was it his ghost come calling"
"It is not for us to say"

"Bill Boyle washed ashore you see"
"About two...yep he was dead"
"So just was it that came to us"
"And said the things he said"

"There's ghosts out on the water"
"Like the ghostly  Nell McBride"
"I swear and cross my heart now"
"But, boys...you must decide"

How long does a flower needs to bloom?
Before it started dying slowly and surely
How long can I stay in these circumstances?
Before I started to weep, full of regrets?

Flowers only bloom and mature once
My love will only grow and come once
So beautiful but fragile
Already used to not disturbing you again
Really want to forget you but I can't

Why is it like this?
Why does the fog of hesitation comes to cover me?
Warping me in this indescribable feeling again
Engraving deep bitter wounds in my heart
Which expands, shattering my heart into a million pieces

Heartfelt words are not truthful
It has only set my heart to say a truthful lie
Perhaps I didn’t love, I didn’t feel pain, but I can't

Why did I think you were beautiful?
Why did I love you more than myself?
Why didn't you treat me equally?
Why?

Have I done something wrong?
All my words are fading
Like a blossomed Chrysanthemum that paled then withered

Being emotionless
A dandelion flown away blown by the wind of sorrow
My existence is unbearable for you
To keep admiring you makes me torn apart

Happiness is forever a shortage, as a flower which/that is mortal
Counting the remaining days from these remaining petals
Can I make it a little bit longer?

Memories of you slowly fades
Time will soon relieve you
Disappearing too fast

Leaving the dust of regret
Sighting full of woe
Crying gently and howling like a lonely wolf
Trying to release all the pain that must I suffer

I know we can't be together
Even I've already tried to show my affection
Even I've already tried to take care of you
Everything is so useless

The rotten fragrance of the wilted flower
Which is carried by the wind of sorrow
Lead me to far away from you
Fading all the memory
that I ever had of you...

I'm not digging my grave
I'm just going to hang from this tree
Bleeding from my wrist
Drunk off the freshly opened bottle of Jack Daniels
My grave is in total opposite
I'm six feet above the ground
In this shallow grave
Nobody even knows I'm here
They're all probably thinking it's a hoax
Well I'm no UFO
Or Bigfoot sighting
I'm a 17 year old
Hanging from the neck
Of my favorite old oak
I think it's over 100 years old
I left a note
I wonder if they found me yet
I told them I was dead already
Nobody ever believes me
Maybe now they will
When they see what I carved into my wrist

It's ninety degrees in the shade back home
And September brings no relief I fear
From sweating and fretting, oh, no, let's go-
We'll be riding on the Rocky Mountaineer

Expecting the best, we heard the "All aboard!"
To the sound of bagpipes whining
Longing to see mountains, trees and streams
But it's for sighting of bears that I'm pining

The meals keep coming-no one stays hungry
With our hostess, Holliday, we haven't a care
By the end of the day we spied osprey, geese and ducks but
When pulling into Kamloops, no one had spotted a bear

A walkabout, then sleeping so deeply
Whisked back on board by our competent crew
I remembered my dream of a bear in a stream
With her cubs-how I wish it comes true

The Monashee Mountains are so peaceful
We spy snow-capped peaks from afar
The leaves on the trees changing gold and red
But rolling into Tumtum still no bear

Soon we crossed the Columbia River
Salmon tantalizing eagles for a bite
While passing through the town of Revelstoke
A family of bears-all plastic-came in sight

"Look out!" came a call from the front of the train
A signal to us who pulled up the rear
We "Red Line" passengers ready with cameras
A false alarm-no bear or moose is near

The Selkirk Mountains promise some glaciers
And Stonycreek Bridge is followed by lunch
The Kicking Horse River showed spirit it's true
But no bears will show up is my hunch

And so surely to see that elusive bear of my dreams
I'll just have to return come next year
Til then I will dream salmon-filled mountain streams
And the all-aboard call of the Rocky Mountaineer

I slur
my saying
of moth.

I trudge
ahead of time
my dream
belongings
behind me.

god is a lantern
dropped by awe.

awe’s hand?
a sighting
none report.

when your man
sloth
of a brother
says he’s applied

for a job
in the abyss
as sentiment’s
echo-

double
your efforts.

Nestled 'neath an overpass
A homeless guy camps out.
I pass his tent each morning
On my exercising route.

He has a lovely river view
And has no rent to pay,
Although it isn't quite the place
Where I would like to stay.

I rarely see him, but today,
Unfortunate for me,
I caught him as he emptied out
His half-full jug of ***.

If ever you are tempted
To enjoy a river swim,
Heed my advice and find
Another venue for your whim.

This river's reputation
(Not a great one) stays intact
With this daily contribution
From a urinary tract!

My sun in human form! I come alive everytime theres a sighting of you.
Everything else shutters in absence  and its Jupiters arora blue aura glowing on me. Nothing pops out like you do. You posses that ting that lights up any room. Ahh sweet home. Jupiters aurora blue aura - Swoo

Sighting

Far out the on the Pacific ocean
I saw a ship sailing upside down
A fata morgana, a mirror from another
Dimension sailing on the outside
Of the horizon.
The explanation given was trite
I preferred to believe in a world outside
Our horizon that is limitless.
Everything is true, and everything is false
The keel of the phantom ship was held
Up by blues clouds.

We are progressing upstream, no sighting yet.
Their gods are letting us pass unmolested.
Even the sun beckons us up these blue waters,
but the cliffs are closing in, scarved with the icy
torrents of waterfalls spilling their glacial flux.

In the distance is a great broad path, paved
in crazy glazing, glinting in the sun.
There's no escaping this snare's enchantment.

Surely, they don't take us for their pirate
longboat returning to digorge its stolen treasures.

Somewhere Thor's hammer is at work. We pray
we will be spared his unforgiving anvil,
for we come only with our tourist tribute.

I hear the lovely kiss of Spring,
it comes to me a song he sing,
upon the lovely sacred wing,
the bird above amazes eye,
as I listen to his battle cry,
I raise a hand,
then softly sigh,
please do stay
not bid goodbye,

A screeching sound to take his ****,
a bird as this - astounding skill,
they try to fight but they lose the will,
morphing in an alien shape,
no mouse nor snake to yet escape,

It comes here now my bird of prey,
the hawks again they fly today,
magnificent- to take a breath,
swooping in to claim a death,

A single hawk now sits in view,
though sometimes twelve or maybe two,
this my bird
-a sign to see,
of what now comes-
an what will be,
a omen of my destiny,

This,
a messenger from a god,
who's flight leave only feeling awed,
a spirit of my Father here,
to call again an draw me near,
I listen close with an open ear,

I knew this place was for me sure,
it is the place I find the cure,
leaving there of where we were,
the place to rest my restless feet,
and finally give my heart a seat,
life it hid- with much deceit,

A garden full and nightly meals,
my bird of prey- his quarry squeals,
I listen for the holy squawk,
I listen for my red tail hawk,
I watch him fly but I only gawk,

He came last year- enlightening
in visions sometimes frightening,
my sky of many, sky of one,
all together beneath the sun,

A guardian who came before,
who now protects my new front door,
a harbinger of good I know,
I'm sure my seeds this time to grow,
an we not die- in this I know,

His Spirit lives here in the spring,
on every bird on every wing,
in my every caution
and in every other thing,
he's every sound and every sight,
and every bird on every flight,
he's every morn' and every night,

He's everything I eat and cook,
in every word in every book,
in every face in every look,
he is my grandson's bouncing ball,
he is the leaves that died in fall,
he is my son- who grew so tall,

Returned to me in verdant love,
my greenest mount from up above,
painted here angelic hands,
a carpenter who had his plans,

To make this place-
God's country -
and so too then is mine,
my soul an spirit
-forever -
right here- they intertwine,
an I am ever grateful
for an understanding mind,

An so I do my sacred part -
to teach the children well,
I listen close to sacred hearts
in sadness I do not dwell,
in every fear to leave behind ,
so in his love- to you I tell,

We are more than just our flesh,
an every day is new an fresh,
listen to the birds of Spring,
tiny one or on a giant wing,
hear the song to listen
-sing

Knowing when the sun it sets,
to leave behind the past regret,
smiling souls will have no fret,
an face what we see as the dark,
to find a footlight in a tiny spark,

And even if my soul stayed here,
I'd live my life this way,
even if it ends right now,
If always I must
always, stay,

To live a life that's dignified,
but not of one consumed by pride,
a life that's been so worth the ride,
well I can say I really live,
I give in all I have to give,
I carry not no weight with me,
I will let it rest -I will just let it be,

But this is not to say
at times -
my heart does not feel sad,
for sorrow teaches to appreciate
the times when you feel glad,
an anger hurts only you I think,
so no use in being mad,
although I think we must at times,
if only just a tad,

Regardless of a promise made,
in a text or ancient writings,
I will take the message now
of my bird that I am sighting,

This is chance a time of change,
take a hold an grasp,
wear it in a locket near,
an tightly close the clasp,

Find a dream up in the sky
and draw it to your heart
this is the time in Spring it's true
to make a brand new start,

Go now-
an find your new life
beneath the springtime sun.

Ma Cherie © 2017

The wanderers lips chapped thirsty
peeled and parched in deserts inhuman
of love bereft,sought hard but unfound!
a search on legs last,romance unfazed,
for that mirage shimmering hazily afar
of her eyes, face and lips softly smiling.
so dear once,long abandoned in betrayal.
a heartfull of love unrelinquished still,
throbbing unforgotten in existence skeletal
pausing for breaths last, a hoping soul numb,
now sighting that luscious red neon cherry
the glossy round O of Marylin the pretty
a wan smile just, of a small solace strange
lit up on a face entreating so desperate.
paving happily the deaths way at last
blown in the wind final,an abstract kiss.

First the attraction
a morning sighting
of new spring warmth..
that initial penetrating
of sun's rays
an altered state..
then drifting clouds
breeze and chill
disappointment aroused
the earlier promise
seemed unfulfilled..
some alternations then
clouds and sun
is morning truth..
feeling the shadows
yield and not
clouds there are
bringing the sun...

In my first sighting of you,  
I painted a picture I could not erase,  
a canvas of disdain—your dress, your gait,  
the way your laughter danced like light,  
your long hair, a glowing shroud,  
your bronze skin, kissed by the sun,  
and the flowers you nurtured,  
while I, a ghost of my own mind,  
waged war against my garden,  
killing blooms for the weight I carry,  
the burden of looking at lives not my own.  

Yet, in the depths of my heart,  
I found admiration where hatred once thrived.  
I never craved your light;  
I like my eggs with edges burnt,  
my garden a desolate expanse,  
but in this solitude, I am not alone.  
What I know is a quiet truth,  
that to admit my feelings is to drown  
into the depths of my own despair,  
but I write this, inspired by the  
long shadows of your existence,  
a reflection of my own tangled soul.

Once more to sail on waters pale
New worlds as yet unseen,
His soap dish boat he sets afloat
With wash rag sail of green.
 
The bubbles crash and gentle splash
As he leaves bath plug bay,
With plastic comb he beats the foam
And slowly pulls away.

His telescope carved out of soap
Is held up to his eye,
Sighting the beach beyond his reach
where unknown treasures lie.

He dips his oar and rows once more
as shadows swirl around,
But it's too late to navigate
the sharks that now abound.

His sword in hand he makes a stand
waving his arms about,
The soap sud sharks now just for larks
Try hard to knock him out.

His sail unfurls as west wind swirls
And speeds him on to shore,
The danger past on land at last
So now he can explore.

Grabbing his coat he leaves his boat
and checks his treasure map,
then off he set with ankles wet
And soap spray on his hat.

Beneath a rock shaped like a sock
The treasure waits for you,
so bring a ***** to where it's laid
that's all you have to do.

The spot was found he dug the ground
And opened up the chest,
Oh cheese and bread he loudly said
This treasure is the best.

Loading his sack upon his back
He set off for the shore,
filling his hold with wealth untold
He headed home once more.