A gentleman of gentle deeds,
whose smile surmises his thoughts.
A simple man of simple gestures,
whose kindness has never been fought.
His words clever,
his ideas charming,
his romance soft yet strong.
Enchanting eyes, endearing lips,
his promise an elegant song.
I want a gentleman,
to run with me,
through fields of yellow and green.
I choose the gentleman,
the careful man,
the loveliest man I have seen.

once bitten twice shy,
and now i hold no illusions why
the planet comes to love
as much as is taken by;
and the dawn surmises
but burns and rots,
and the tree begets
unthinking thought—
yet here i stand,
again that ***
that called the kettle
black.

Where did they hide a punch clock in the timeless solace?

Or did they hide it all?

Perhaps it’s difficult to see some mornings?

We walked together to the school bus-stop, Billie Jean and I,

…she seemed to have a thing for me although I don’t know why?

I had a birth deformity; my feet were horned like snakes,

…a scaly-green monstrosity that locked away my heart and mind,

…so that; like the time clock, no one would ever see me.

Even the trip to doctors in Thebes, it only made it worse,

...all the children in my town found out, and said that I was cursed,

An ancient Greek named Urias claimed;

That tranquil purple’s peaceful dawn had hid a pitcher of lies,

And Zeus’ anger at the act brought down lightning from the skies,

…and struck down the people just like me against a ballad of rainbow fusion sunrise.

For the dreamy cosmos exercises as the pantomime he realizes,

…the many fancies of his disguises that the panoptic mind has in its surmises,

And in their parrying fall the distended fragments of the egg,

…formed some like me who were formed quite queer, said to come from Apulian’s nightly fall of fear.

Glass-bottled visions of events not clear all framed in a circle of Plato’s Great Year.

My feet the scaly-green monstrosity which sealed my heart and mind,

Billie said it was a gift from that Great Old Father Time,

A spring of rocks, a great mountain, a whirlpool and a navel,

I guess one day I’ll become them all, if and when I’m able!

Man is nature's child.
He is her firstborn, her best-
Loved. Man is in her good graces.
He doesn't know, he often surmises
That he is behind on the rent,
That he has over-spent his
Allowance. He does not see!
The purpose of man is to live;
The purpose of a giving tree is
To give. No coldness can take
Refuge in nature's heart, no
Spite can contort her lovely face.
The earth's an easy, forgiving place;
Made for men to live and love,
Made to house a lucky race.

Art cares not...
Art cares not for approval, it simply expresses;
Art cares not for award, it simply impressess;
Art cares not for articulation, it simply apprises;
Art cares not... for in fact, it simply surmises;
Art cares not... but simply, do you?

What is left to say if simply transcribing another's  antidotes

Will not knowing an idiom from a metaphor automatically make me an idiot?

Left to our own devices now will be up to the reader who surmises  or denotes

Will particles of paraphrases become our own, simply a contest to find the wittiest?

Alliteration in our communication stresses our sounds like more bass from out throats

Faced with future facsimiles will we ponder to produce our own or leave us inexperienced

Seemingly sly salutations setting by the wayside wishing to be brought forward for their own votes

Smooth as a baby's **** some configurations combine to make them the silkiest

Sometimes simple silly slogans become our deepest thought leaving little to decode

Tricky trusty truisms tantalize while beige boring subtitles often stand the test

Reaching for fruit that will fall anyway,does it become easier to the take the lesser road

Reading and receiving often one sided or deceiving, playing differently when put into
writing it will now be left to the reader to decode. R.C.

what starts as a seed is soon a wave,
can it be my mind playing tricks on me?
i doubt it, but i doubt myself
there is no one feeling that surmises them all
an accumulation of multiple strands of random thoughts
forcing me to see the the dark,
i may not get to sleep tonight
but then tomorrow, light

Eyes along rose-aisle wanders and ponders,
eager to experience the explosive wonder,
amorous thunder in scentful embrace
elope with the trail of darkening banyan shade.

Reality with realmless ravishing painting
in a suave sensation surmises our surreality,
thoughts of past like thorns of Bengal rose
swim in sour and sweet wind of stormy candour.

At the dusk of divine splendour
wrapped in romantic lazy luxuriousness
I listlessly look at the blossoming spring,
an enchanting evening of thoughtful dreams,
radiant midst of melancholic screams
embraces the dark shade of bordering woods.

The constant cloud cover hides
the picturesque panorama from
my sweet little scenic peninsula,
the wetland of unknown beauty,
the place where reigns the rain.


The cloud always keeps the veil on,
denies the Sun the right to shower
his warm ray to enlighten the land,
although the Sun's been aware of the
mystical treasure hidden down there.


Love and light have the potency to perceive possibilities,
and as you acquire eager yearning for openness,
no cloud can keep you confined to the dark dampness,
and yes, on a fine banal day my land meets her Sun.

Light rushes through her dark and damp valleys,
the ray of righteousness invading her veins
as my dear land encounters enlightenment,
the romantic reality fills her with the fire of fulfillment.

Amazement echoes through her as she greets
the leafy luster and the priceless pearls of those
candid moony mountains that pour magic on her.
The perennial spring of wisdom and enrichment
needs to ramify and rove to experience more.

Months and years pass and now she surmises,
the misty life at every turn surprises,
so she resolves to pursue that fine trait of life,
as she would never cease to explore
the finer version that still remains unexplored
inside her very self with the hope of
the other sun, that is yet come.

Women dress like birds,
prim and proper,
ranging from
bell shape to slender.

There can be
blush on their cheeks or
soft and vibrant feathers, yet
all their hollow bones are easy to break.

They are raised in the wild,
learning to defend themselves
from both natural and manmade threats
until the pretty women are inevitably caught.

She can’t escape.
You coo, “Struggle harder, you ugly thing.”
She bites your fingers through the net, so
you toss her smaller frame against the ground.

“Women,” you scoff, deducing she must be on her period.
You know in your mind that she’s special.
She’s an exotic breed currently popular on the market.
As a local man, you’re eager to **** out your culture.

Once she is shipped to the underground,
she bounces from owner to owner,
her once vibrant plumage
now grimy.

Once, she catches a glimpse of her daughters,
and they make eye contact, yet they remain
silent
to her call.

She realizes
she doesn’t smell of herself anymore
or where she comes from—
only of the dogs that made her bleed.

Her daughters
wish their mother would apologize
for bringing them into a world where
the woman is contained by men.

However,
did their mother ever
do anything wrong?
The daughters were simply a task.

“Time to move on.”
The mother surmises,
locking away her feelings as
her next shift begins.

You stand
outside of the cage
peering between the bars with your dark eyes.
“She’s too old for me to enjoy now.”

You sigh,
casting a glance to her daughters.
“I’ll feed her to my snake.
These two girls must be fertile by now.”

Eternal chaos of day, strangled out by the night
Heads on their beds, as the owl just takes flight
The street’s heart beat, hums tranquilly just right
Tomorrow hates today,  forever jealous first light

I might burn bright
but without me we’d all be surely dead
So when you lose sight
Remember everything that I’ve ever said

Things weren’t always this way
I used to care, I had an immaculate companion
Until the galaxy made us stray
My heart’s bare, desolate as the deepest canyon

You can Stare at me but at your own peril
You could never see, and were always feral
A disaster pair like we, two fish in a barrel
What could never be, shooting blanks, sterile

You see me as yellow, but it’s only an illusion
Trying to stay mellow, on this new clear fusion
A rare cosmic loner, but you’ll see someday soon
There is no donor, not even your precious moon

Solar flare upset your ozone, ice caps melting
Polar bear regret, all alone, thinking of moving
Poker dare, bet all in, the white dwarf felting
Choker air, let the sin, begin to morph approving

As a new spawn rises, checking night’s defiance
A collective yawn surmises, on our true reliance
A plea for an extension, I pray we stay compliant
Humanities apprehension, dawn of the red giant

I can't get the sun to rise,
I know, but it doesn't.
Because the same man sits in the same chair
And surmises that he's wise.

We are all enveloped by ignorance
Gilded with everlasting omniscience
So you know I'm the eternal poet-softie
Whom the reader knows is stronger and smarter than he seems, the defendant Valjean if you please

Police officers stand with their hands at their belts,
Proud and wrong.

Lawyers bob and weave through crowds,
Like sketchy guys at parties,
Making chemical connections.

Vendettas are had and crime is clad
In the full disguise of law

And the arrogant judge holds his holy opinion
high as hell

So my head hangs low and alone
It makes my blueish mind wander
Into fantasy worlds of others shouldering the weight
And our backs are at right angles to each other
In the fourth dimension, let it be.

And yet it seems we're one being suffering together for no reason at all,
(And I can hardly say I'm suffering,
But it is a kind of suffering)
And in me the sun does not rise
It flounders about in neuropathy
Even ordered motion is flailing about
All is skewed and null is king,
My Mother even said so.

IN PARTICULAR

We stand
in the sea

my shadow &
me

looking at what
is not there.

"It's more...something than nothing?"
my shadow surmises

"I see it more as...nothing."
I beg to differ.

My shadow
furious with me

crunches back up
the shingle

gets in the car and
leaves.

I remain standing
in the sea

looking at nothing
...in particular.

We barely ask further, we always read
Assumptions and surmises our feelings feed
Go dig old messy books, as if it’ll matter
Whatever that was, to love is still to love her

I've come
to the furthest edge
of doubt

answers
are surmises
truth slumbers

questions
they infest
like cancers

friends
they act strange
no longer affectionate

duty
an over-gloried word
seems absurd

loyalty
but to whom?
self must be first served

society
not for common good
but for a few on top

wealth
the best currency
capitalism's very health

patriotism
a forgotten word
a euphemism

dignity
but for show?
quick exit

love
not a universal need
such many won't like to keep

prayer
uttered as routine
would the heart come clean?

and me
what should I say?
here I don't want to stay

Aims to trigger cerebral ******;

Other terms for said phenomena are
"brain tingles" and "head ******."
This sensation is described as a pleasant,
even euphoric, tingling warmth and/or feeling
of relaxation that comes in waves across
the head, neck, and spine.
This phenomenon is often triggered
by soothing auditory
and/or visual experiences.

Though puzzled regarding
the minor biochemical
or perhaps neurological mystery
underlying tumbling, plummeting,
and nosediving libido of mine,
nevertheless, I blessedly accept reality,
whereby once raging testosterone
figuratively analogous to former gushing spigot
of hormonal secretion
now (yes pun intended) runs bone dry
and (contrary to any fallacy),
NOT sorely missed!

Yours truly (me) surmises absent *** drive
linkedin to side effects of one or more
of the nine prescription medications
taken to offset anxiety, dysthymia,
palmar hyperhidrosis (sweaty palms),
obsessive compulsive disorder, and
restless leg syndrome)
subsequently an aspiration arose to arouse
at least one unsuspecting reader
to experience mental excitement
courtesy yours truly

(mine) poetic and prosaic foreplay,
especially concocting double entendres
that titillate Wernicke's area, i.e.
a critical language area
in the posterior superior
temporal lobe connects
to Broca's area via a neural pathway.
Wernicke's area is primarily involved
in the comprehension.

Historically, this area
associated with language processing,
whether it is written or spoken.

Unlike setting up blind dates for myself
more than half my lifetime ago
(with long sought after ambition, expectation,
and utilization answering call of the wild
read for tactile sensory sensual experience)
courtesy, Craigslist, Philadelphia Magazine,
Single Book lovers, or other mediums
to post or answer
personal classified advertisements;
nowadays, the quest when responding
to friendship requests thru Facebook
ala Messenger sofa now couched
with intent for platonic familiarity.

If/when words masterfully baited
usage of English Language
without recourse to any rhyme nor reason
admittedly, gloriously, and undoubtedly created
upsurge of... palpable excitement,
though medical experts invariably
would most likely challenge
if I actually averred (honest to dog)
coalition, fusion, integration,

et cetera of genitalia
between consensual adults in general,
and oral ******* in particular execrated
from fervid, lurid,
or perfervid fantasies of mine;
methinks attaining the big "O" oversaturated,
cuz in my paradigm,
no erogenous zones need get sated
to attain contentment eliciting joie de vivre.

An intense passion runs rampant
when reading and
to a slightly lesser degree writing
about pleasurable sensations
affecting the mind imbibing
heavenly essences helped along,
when heightened state of mental acuity
brought about thru restful sleep
coaxed along with five hour energy drink,
or other caffeinated beverage.

Exercising on the stationary bicycle
(no way to determine distance traversed
since I removed odometer and other
sundry mechanisms), nevertheless
key objective regarding cardiological workout felt
cause resistance to push pedals
set to highest tension, generates mild euphoria,
which approximation of nirvana
heightened while concentrating reading out loud
hearing thought provoking material.