The Sight of Black Stockings on Pale white Legs
Framing and showing off the Thigh, That Begs
Softly to be touched, in gentle Admiration
Women in Silk, Lace, and  Satin for Excitation

Camisoles of Lace, Garters and Penoirs
Corsets Laced up, and Short Babydolls
Lace Demi Cup Bras, with ******* Adorned
Without the Pleasure of this, life is Forlorn

There is a Certain ****** Passion
For these Fine Lingerie Fashions
Lust and Loved for Centuries
It Brings forth ***** Sensuality

Curve and Crevices tease the Eyes
Releasing ever Passionete Sighs
Until Entwined they Finally Find
The unyeildings of Motions Devine*

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Tendrils of Alien Anime Lunge
Wide Eyed Innocent gets plunged


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Clay Formed and Molded.
Spun in the cycle of life



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I pried the Words off the Wall
Rearranged and used them All
Stacked upon each other in
A sentence Said with Style

Coco Chanel And Ert'e Flaunt
Lesbian Fashion In chic Paris Haunts,
In the 1920s, While Albert Camus
Late Night Parties Extistentialist Claims
Amid ****** and Champage

Django Rienhardt Played Jazz Guitar
To the West Bank Artists in Bars,
Toulouse Lautrec had Drank
With Prostitutes, in Art Deco

Frank Loyd Wright Praised
In Architect Circles
How He has Designed
The Unfolding of the Future

The Camera Has Brought
Sharp Images to see
While emergence of Psychology
Has driven Art into the Abstract

Paris in the 20's scent of*
Hedonist Creativity
Cultural Gravity
To the Inclined

De rien, entre amis
Prende un jour a la fois



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out side my window is a willow tree
windy days, if I set quiet, it whispers to me
some days it talks of life, and last chances
some days it talks of love, and romances
another day it whispers of just, this and that
there are days by myself its nice for a chat
on days I am feeling bad, it whispers sad
and it tells me that things will be alright
it whispers in the day, it whispers in the night
I listen often in bed as my head lays on the pillow
happy that I have, a whispering willow*...JMF

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I just saw a Man Who's Ego World Dwarf
All the Republicans who Have put forth
There announcement to run for the POTUS
And the Wisdom he Espised from the podium
Was shellacked with self spun bravada

His Claim to Fame in God's Name as
The Worlds Greatest Job Provider
Should in the Face of the Coming Race
Provide such Political Fodder

America he Said from his Enormous Head
Was nothing but a Nation of Stupid losers
The only safe Haven and path to the future
Was Guarded by a Caped Hero of the Dollar

In tights with a Diamond and T on his Chest
Red white and Blue Cape He Knew what's Best
He'd thru his vision change the Face of the World
And as he comes up with one, his plan will unfurl

As I watched CNN with a Chortle and a Laugh
If we Elect TRUMP for President its our own Gaff



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I wrote My first poem at 15 years old, 46 years ago,
Since then My Rhymes Have, Daunted me, Haunted Me,
Pounded and Ground me Down, like a Lexiconographer Hammering out
Words on a steel anvil, and newly formed Syllables ring out in the Night,
As the Darkness Falls. before the Dawn. and I yawn to get up and write  
Another verse...drinking from the stream, drinking from the stream,
Quenching my Verse in the Stream of Consciousness, that flows through
The corridors of Time, and since my Rhymes have Daunted me.....

Freedoms Shot Down by Bullets of fear
The Fascist Faces Arise in the Crowd
As The Elections of Politicians draws near
The Neo Nazis and KKK Proclaim out loud
The Boasting and Bashing of Religion and Race
Stares America Right in the Face.....
Will you Stand and arise to Fight of Note?
Then Get off Your ***** and.....
GET OUT AND VOTE!!!!!!!

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( by Elizabeth Squires and SilverSilkenTongue in Collaboration)


In an idle ilk the poet
Did **** precious time
Non pursuant twas he
Of that haunting rhyme

The Tap tap tap of his Thumbs
In pulse to the Anxiety that Comes
Resistant and Hesitant this Choice of Word
Like crows on a wire flitting to and fro
Simply to be Assured who is top Bird

He mulled in thought
On his composition
Yet not acting on it
Due to a stalling disposition

Caught in a Web, of Websters Dictionary
Assonance and Consanace Fundimentaly
He Chews each Syllable to Spit out
The Misconstrued Vowels that he Shouts!

By Elizabeth Squires and Silver Silken Tongue
Special Thanks to Ann who suggested Elizabeth and I should Collaborate

Texas 1959, And today Out of Time
Oswald...  The CIA Admits As Role Prime
To Play Lee Harvey... Until the Time
He could be used... And hid behind

The Asassination of Castro He Failed
Still Playing Him along... to their Avail
The Victim of the Ruse.....
Never Realised his Use..... in the End

They Plied him with *****.....
Hookers  and  Promises.....
Trips to Cuba and Secret Meetings
A Snipers Rifle with Desperate Leanings

Keeping him fed with Lies
The CIA Cast the Die
Feeling Let down by JFK that Day
Over the "Bay of Pigs"

His Truce they regarded For
A weakness that Moscow
Would Subvert Somehow
For the President Folded

Then Came that Fatal Texas Day
In 1963, Lee Harvey at the Depository
Smiling Waving JFK in a.....
White Lincoln Town Car Parade

The Shot Rang out where he sat
Blood splattered on Jackie's Pillbox Hat
Jack Ruby ready was Very Fast
To make sure the Truth Didn't Last

The CIA Made Numerous Omisions
Of Evidence to the Investigation Commision
Keeping it all Hid away, Till the CIA Historian
Opened the file of Lies, from the day.....

The President Died....................................


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I sit wrapped in mist...
as the Fog Bank rolls in
on the shores of my mind

I find through an ocean
fed upon by the River Styx
lost in my own Complexity

Thoughts like confetti
float through the air
as if to Puzzle me to Dare

To arrange the Puzzle Pieces
of my life, while constantly bogged
in the mists of my own Mind

Sequential thoughts drifting
in the mists of time and place
as I continue to search for my face

Lost in the pile of puzzle pieces
a jumble in the duration of the
persistance of my procreation


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The soft sound of Wind Chimes,
And the Rustling of leaves...
The song of Water on Rock
Its tune plays on endlessly

Black Eyed Susan's amid,*
Queen Anne's Lace spread
Abroad like a Floral buffet.
For the Senses upon to Feed

The Smells of Morning Dew,
And Moist Deep Black Earth,
The Smell of Honey Suckle
and the Buzz of Bee's Search

Following the Nectar sweet Scent
Along the wafting Breeze
Shadows and Sun under the Trees
Embracing a day that's Heaven Sent

Memories Captured in a bottle to save
And Savored Upon another Day
Memories Used, but just Slightly Diffused...JMF


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Soft wind off the lake
In the shadow of a tree
Driving Tiny waves to
Lap against the shore
Lull you with the song
Of A Warbler on a Branch

The coolness of the earth
Soothing the Mid Day Heat
As the Sound of Cicadas
Are Hushed by the call of the Loon
All upon a mid day Afternoon

The Sound of Laughter as Red Kites
Dance in the Air among the Clouds
The creak of Swings in full Motion
Lead to Day Dreamed Notions

Coolness sets in as the sun Sinks
A chorus of Tree frogs breaks
The Nights Silence

Shadows shift in the bloom
Of a Midsummers Moon


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The Blast of wood and glass
Erupts Like Blooms of Flame
The First responders Arrive
Purely for the Clean up and Blame

It Came from the Kitchen
Investigators search debris
Hot ash and Smoke hover
Embers glow and Flare over

A woman rushes up
Begging a Fireman
Please tell me...
Did my mother Live?

There were no survivors
I am Sorry to say
She began Crying away
Sobbing Through tears to say

Mother Texted me today**
Cancer... they say
I just want one last cigarette
Before I go Away..........

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It always seems that
Endeavors lead
To broken dreams
When all your life
You were told
You are a Failure

The seed they plant
Grows to flower
And leaves you with
A lack of power
And Persistance

Upon their assured
Insistence that you're
Just a door ****
Your futures stolen
Your soul is robbed

They need to see
Its easier to raise
A Boy with praise
Then have to fix
A broken man


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The Blue Nile is a Local Club
It Hosts the Poets Groove,
A Late Night spoken Poet event
That is the culture of the Smooth.

Desdamona The queen of the Poetry Scene
Hosted a Cool MC there for Years
Poets, Hip Hoppers and Rappers
All Gathered here bringing there words

Hip hop, Rappers, and Poets Hang
For that Late Night Poets Reading
The House band lays down your Music
Background as you perform the Speaking

The band can do from Jazz to Rap
They latch on to the feel and beat
Your doing your Reading replete
With the musical blendings complete

On the Stage with your Words
For an audience that heard
It gives you an incredible feeling
the Applause makes it all worth Dealing

I've seen Street Rappers Lay it down
Hip Hoppers with Singer Backgrounds
Girls with Love Poems, Feeling Alone
For a Poet its the best show around


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The Black Queen of
The Hacker Scene
Blood Goth Style
And Silent Screams

Her Coding Skills
Were yet Unseen
Many were 'pwned'
By her Data Schemes

'Til she tried to crack
The Encrytion on the
Pentagons firewall
It was Her Down Fall

She got the Option
Prison Time or
Work for them
Fighting this crime

She ended up meeting
Darren who was her
Carmel Candy Joy
Their chats dripped with Cloy

She started with the FBI BAU
Cracking info and Flirts with Darren
She tracked signals world wide
Till the IP was Enprisoned

Cracking Data to Criminal Minds
What ever they ask she can find
And she's anticipated like a digital
Reader of Minds, A Fashion Fatale'

Bright pink Pigtails and
Blue Cats Eyed Glasses
With Glitter Lashes
She's a Digital Data Diva


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Abstracted Painting
.
print in
.
black and white
,
as if
,
they paint
,
the page
.
hues of blues
.
or of
.
Langston Hughes
.
the page roils the spirits
.
to anger red
.
that fades
.
to shades
.
to purples and blues

Avante-Garde, Hipster, Beat Poet Words and sound of Celebration
Graphic Painting done by me Shamus.Media,Arts
www,shamusmediarts.com  © a month ago, SilverSilkenTongue

Out in the West, a Tale is told
By Wise weathered Indians of old,
Passed down as a Shamans Tale
It told of Guardian Spirits...

For Our Mother Earth and Father Sky
On Sacred Lands only reverent pass by
Those with Selflessness Come through
To pray to Mother Earth and Father Sky

Give thanks for Brother Sun and Sister Moon
Some that the rite goes back to ancient eons
Brought by the Anasazi to all his Children
In praise for what they were given.....

A wanderer Came upon these Sacred lands
With ****** in his heart, and blood on his hands
Father Sky sent his Spirit Hawk as Guard on the Land
His cry in the Sky reached the ears of the Wolf Spirit

A pile of bleached Bones the angry man came upon
The Gaurdian Wolf Spirit Howled out a Warning
As the Man's Spirit broke the Sacred Circle
Bounding the Bear Spirit came to ****

His Claw reached in and took the Hatred from his Heart
But without it the Man lost his Spirit and Began to Die
His death quick but not alone, he landed on a pile of bones
With his Companions He lay, til the day he was just bone dry...JMF

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On a visit to London I got to go, to one of London's Famous Music
Clubs. I was enjoying The Pints Of Guinness, and the Beautiful
and Lovely London Ladies.The Euro Techno pop was Blastin'
British Bums in an ocean in motion. All in All an amazing Night, soon
it was time to hit the loo as they say.I grabbed a Stall and Sat down and
settled in to take a dump, when OUCH!I felt a Jab in my ****
I looked between my legs and didn't see anything. *****
I wondered I started in taking my Dump and felt another
Jab in my But OUCH!! I finally Rolled a Hip up... and
there was a tiny British rocker with an electric Guitar
Standing at the edge of the Bowl, he Yelled out don't **** on
meee... startled I asked what he was doing there. He
Told me he had a Gig in Dublin and after The Bar Closed
he grabbed a Lepreuchan by the Scruff of the Neck...
thinking he was Hallucinating, the Leprechaun begged to be
let go offering to grant me one wish, I told him, thinking of the Band
" I want a Grand Tour," Being old and hard of hearing he thought I
said a Ground Sewer and my life has Been **** Ever Since.......


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In earlier times a Daughter was born
Who carried the welts of a belt
An oath of no children
By the Mother was sworn

Ten years went by
An she agreed to one
But you must never
Lay a hand on my son

The man felt afronted
By the Oath on his head
But agreed to the terms
His wife had said...

The son was born on
A hot august Morn
But the oath on his head
Was the Mans Scorn

As the Boy grew older
All of 8 years old he
Was told his mother ill
Her Failed sight ner seen

The Boy Had to help
The mother to cook
Taught by her
From recipe books

The Man owned a factory
Where each day he must be
After school his time
Was never free

He must clean
The factory floor
And haul the Rubish
Out the door

By 9 he was working
with 16 ft boards
To help make the slats
That paid for our Board

When ever the boy talked
Of what he had learned
He was ridiculed by the father
And vicously Spurned

He was called
Insane and stupid
Told he belonged in a
Mental institution

He was told
He was a slacker
That nothing he
Did was ever right

The Spite and the Hatred
built Day upon Day
His father argued
With all that he'd say

By 12 the Boy had
Longshoremans
Syndrome, from the
weight of the work

As his spine was growing
It bent the spine as it formed
The Raging went on day after day
The abuse heaped on the head of the Boy

When Finally he left
With his back to the door
For 2 years they never
Heard from the Son

Till he missed
Them and called
2 minutes it took till
The father started again

The son slammed
Down the phone in tears
And wasn't heard from
For another year

Through all of this from 5 years old
He'd been ***** by an older boy
And Held it all within Him
Afraid of his Father he never had told

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Political Planners...
Much like 4 lb. sledge hammers
That crush the skulls of*
Cows brought to Slaughter
Carve up the political landscape
As the HOWL!
Of the entity for the
Condition of Humanity
Bares angst within the Night
In search of the Light
In utter Darkness

They were only the Patsy's
Hung out to dry
For another's Fraud and Profit
Having evolved from
Kneeling to Prophets, into
Kneeling to Profits
Prophets foretold of old
But Now are Sold in Paperback

Lost are the Days...
And,Wandering is the Night

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Oodles of Noodles and Broth
For not many Pennies Cost



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Each day is a photograph
Of images we leave behind




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People always say
That crime Don't Pay
But there are always
Those who try to beat it

A Guy Named Stan thought
He was the Man with the Plan
All he needed was the  guy to
Bypass the Electric Alarms

He looked up an old Buddy
Someone he could trust
Once the Alarm was dead
There was a Back door to bust

Sitting waiting was a Companies
Payroll over Thirty Grand
They Pried open the Safe
And got what was at Hand

Stan kneeled and passed
the Money to his Buddy
Holding onto The Sack
Glad the Guy had his back

As he looked up from the Safe
Square into the Barrel of a Gun
Stan knew the plan was done
The Crack of a .32 took his life

As he Lie there Bleeding
From a Bullet in his Neck
He thought he had all the Cards
But there was a Joker in the Deck


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She Paced in the night
Her Mirad Jewels
Dancing in the Moonlight
With each silent Step

Gold Flecks in Cats Eyes
Adorned in Opals
The Royal Beast Arises
Playing the Pets Part

Jungle Beast at Heart
She walks the edge
Prowling her eyes Dart
Searching for prey

Later Content within
Bones Discarded
As Blood drips
From her Chin

She Mingles Among
The other Guests
Emerald Jewels
Upon her *******

Mesmerizing her Prey
As they Herd like Victims
Safety in Numbers
Until she Hunts Another Day


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Politicians talk about Entitlement
Yes we are entitled...
To be shot in the street
To fight the pain with ****** in the vein
And drive by's that maim
Entitled...
To crying children
Who can't sleep because they are hungry
To Cockroaches who scurry in the Night
Child Welfare who say we have no Right
To raise our own children
Entitled to be ***** and Beaten
By the Drunk at our Door
Who just came from the Liquor Store
And ****** on our Porch
Because we wouldn't Let him in.
Entitled on and on they rave
And the Money they could Save
Yes we're Entitled to an Early Grave
And an end to suffering

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the world of the Creative
is Egocentrically Positive
Like the Barking of Dogmas
Baring Teeth Like Logic Jaw
Lost in a Magical Madness
Creative Collect like molecules
revolving in shared Spark
illuminating the Dark
Alpha Neural Synapse of Light
in Creation of the Thought or Sight
Cast into the Universe to be Caught
in the Masses Nueral Net


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The word escapes me
Hidden in the death and Carnage
Je veux pleuer pour Paris, Je suis Enraged
Shot Like Cattle at Slaughter, in a
Strange Night in Paris amid the Bistros
Voulez-vous etre mon amies Parisians
In the Night a Rose Cries Tears of Petals
Its Scent mingled with the smell of Gun Shells
And after all the feelings...the word escapes me


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To all the Poets who work so Hard
To bring us their Precious Words
And tell us of their Tears and Fears

To all the Poets who work so dear
To tell us Magic tales of yore
Clashing swords and Dragons roar

To all the Poets who work so long
Juggling Words to bring them on
And express the Fights all won

To all the Poets who clever Phrase
Your words put us into a Daze
And, this poem's to Rave your Praise

This Poem's your Laurels to Honor you...


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Sleep Stalks Me, through the day
Hypnotizing Me, in its own way
Nodding Off, in seconds lost
Wasted Moments, lost time, the Cost

Achievements to work through
While I have such things to do.....
The Alarm Goes off, and I sleep through
Burdened by My mind persued.

By the chemicals within my brain
Leaving me feel totally drained
A good night Sleep, I do desire
With Medical Help, I will Aquire


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A spark... of Creation
Ignites a Tinder of Thinking
Setting a Blaze of Concept
Catching Fire to a Thought
That Blaze Forms
The Idea...
Carrying the Brilliance
To the Future... Until
Its Flames Subdue
And Slowly Glowing  Embers
Become White Ash of the Past....

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Depravity Acts Like Gravity
Bringing you down
to Chaos and Degradation

And Degenerating Entropy
Trapped in a Path of Iniquity
Engorging an Extremity

To part the Lips of Life and Love
Enshrouding all that would shove
Pursuant to the path to Ecstasy


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lost echo's of past speeches
into the silence reaches
deaf ears worn and tired
of pundits recently expired
cut by the votes not acquired
phrases left uninspired, to
levy the taxes required, for
visions  of  political  spires
the confetti and ballots left
of the candidate now bereft
the slogans all slaughtered
by means of political machines
as the campaigns death left
a soliloquy of silence


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Ansel Adams and Minor White
Both saw the Light reach to infinity...
Edward Weston and Imogen Cunningham
Created Art in black and white Photography

Revealing the unseen that's right
Before our Eyes in plain sight
The Click of a Shutter seals
What the Negative will reveal

What it lacks for color Fades
Viewed in black, gray, and white shades
Plucked out in Artistic Form in sight
The sway and flow of shadow and light

They taught fruit to be Art and
The desserts to flow like rivers
The sharp flow of Sand awash upon
The banks of the Dunes and gone


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The Wrath of craven Masses Arise
All hunting for the Sacrifice
What thought or Image Should be cast
Like Books Upon the fires of the Iconoclast
As poet arise blazing Edgar Allen Poe in Eyes
Just as a raven crosses a Grave...
Searching for within whats saved
To savor the flavor of putrid Flesh
The Poet is obsessed for words to caress
Arousing his compulsive Chicaneries
And bearing a touch of Poe's Insanity


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I like to walk the bridge*
Between Fantasy.....
And Reality

I find an elation
Wondering which side
Of the Mirror I am on

Reflections and intersections
Of Memories Appear as if
They are Near, and

Not just shadows
Shifting and drifting
To nothing, and out
Of this Darkness

Leaps the Spark of Creation


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Bourbon Street Jam
Wham Bam
Wham Bam
Gonna Bone her Ham

Black Beans and Rice
Make Her Shake it Nice
I'd be whacked if
I didn't Have her Back
Wham Bam
Wham Bam
Bourbon Street Jam

Gotta Move with your Krewe
So Shake it Shake it make it move
Word out to all you Partyer's
Gray Goose Make you Loose

Bourbon Street Gotta beat
Yeah Up!
Bourbon Street Gotta beat
Feel that Bead Heat

Give it up for the Krewe
Give it up for the Krewe
Bon Temp Roulle
Let Bourbon Madness
Take You Over Cher

French Quarter.....
Gonna take you there
Cat"s Meow Club at the
Corner of Bourbon and Orleans


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