The typewriters tap,
with a rat-a-tat-tat,
like a fourth estate rap
to provide us the pap
(that serves as a snack with a rat-a-tat-tat)
in a newspaper scrap
crammed with meaningless crap
from the editor's yap
(spewing flimflamy flak, booming rat-a-tat-tat)
after gashing a gap
in the daily recap
with a snip in a snap-
sounding thundery clap
crackng rat-a-tat-tat and a rat-a-tat-tat.

And the talking heads speak
with a rat-a-tat-tat,
of the news of the week,
tweaking tongue in the cheek
(with a click and a clack like a rat-a-tat-tat),
thus ignoring critique
'cause they're mild and too meek
in the midst of the reek
to report of the wrack (except rat-a-tat-tat)
whilst the pundits (oblique
when protecting the chic
of the upper class clique
at the top of the peak)
chatter rat-a-tat-tat and a rat-a-tat-tat.

The NRA ghouls
plug a rat-a-tat-tat
while their blood money tools
fill the Hill’s vestibules
(where deceit behind drapes drips a rat-a-tat-tat),
spreading folly that fuels
frenzied hands of young fools
bringing guns into schools
(at the drop of a hat there's a rat-a-tat-tat
splashing blood in warm pools)
for now anarchy rules
(which the hype ridicules
'til the temperature cools)
hailing rat-a-tat-tat and a rat-a-tat-tat.

Lawless cops, cutting loose
with a rat-a-tat-tat
spraying bullets profuse
without any excuse
(just a split second splat with a rat-a-tat-tat),
splay a rattled recluse
like a Thanksgiving goose
gushing cranberry juice
from six slugs in the back (with a rat-a-tat-tat).
To redress such abuse,
bend the branch of a spruce
with a neck in a noose
while Death's drums beat diffuse’
rolling rat-a-tat-tat and a rat-a-tat-tat.

War brings freedom to all
with a rat-a-tat-tat
(well, excluding the thrall
with fear, facing the wall
[ often smacked with a bat, throbbing rat-a-tat-tat ],
until feeling the call
to creep out of the kraal
biting back with a gall
[ with a *** for a tat and a rat-a-tat-tat ],
or to mangle and maul
if still able to crawl
and be part of the brawl
in a freak free-for-all,
midst a rat-a-tat-tat and a rat-a-tat-tat).

Holy warmongers praise,
with a rat-a-tat-tat,
any soldier that slays
and all rockets that raze
(the drones zoom with a vroom and a rat-a-tat-tat)
leaving smoky arrays
of gray ghosts in the haze
cloaking mute cabarets
(hushed, the hip and the hop, by the rat-a-tat-tat)
while ol’ Cerberus bays
with mankind in his gaze,
so society prays  
as it rots and decays
(Satan's trumpets of doom blare a rat-a-tat-tat)
until one of these days
in a flash through the maze
mighty mushrooms will blaze
with invisible  rays,
fin’lly braising the craze
of the rat-a-tat-tat,
   and the
            rat-
                 a-
                    tat-
                          tat.

The  Deluge

Heavy  thundery  rain
Cascading  down  from  the  heavens.

The  sheer  volume  of  water
Causing  a  sinister  mist  across  the  rooftops.

A  waterfall  suddenly  fell
In  front  of  my  window.

The  gutters  unable  to  cope.

For  a  few  moments
It  felt  like  the  end  of  the  world.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

Genuinely a human being
is suppose to listen to bees

Bees are little bumblebees
Dalai Lama is the
Cutest of them
All

Beings
Endure good~ness
Bye

With a mission
Working sweetly
Wonderfully unselfish

Unending
For a greater  cause
Forgetting about the fame and the flattery laurels
Achievements and Archibalds

Focusing on liveliness of a recent call n
Frivolous flattering sounds
Are gentle blessings

You'd recon that I adore your
Intense passion for
Poetry
By the looks
By shut eyes  eager to be soon open for a glimpse of
Outerness

The listeners are performing
With slightest ****** mimics
With crossed legs open
Changing a position
Scrathes on head
Winking
Nodding
Inwardly borne self dialogues

Your soliloquy
Is the sea of
Love, life
Loving

Me

By the memory
Reciting
Bits of your heart beats

When the tin noise  
Of your crying
Tears tears
Apart
Interrupted
Rumbles

When you dream of the mortal coils descendant
As a halflings brought together through
Dissolving into the golden
Cocoons

You've seen two
Butterflies

I've seen one amongst many

Each a divine gift

Within wholeness

You

There's
No peace
When you dissapear

And I yearn to visit a cultural event
In total darkness (if i shut my poetic eyelids and cover them with both palms) then maybe only the blood's tiniest brooks within my fingers may start the signal for the motion pictures inside the ideal world

The World's Spinning
In a  Absolutely Poetic

Manner
Kirchenblau
Let me embrace peacfulness
Within the secret garden

Let me taste of your
Nectary thoughts

Let me lead you through
Thundery waters

Silk veils and lyricism

Let me lead you through
Fire and ice n'all that is
Nice

Let me . . . oh . . . Let me

Suffice

Clear Skies Vanilla
is the only soft serve
on the days we have no clouds
and none can be seen
floating on our horizons

it is our seasonal choice
that we wish could come
all year long,
could be as predictable
as *Pumpkin Spice in October
or Eggnog in December
even uncelebrated Baseball-Nut
springs up at the right time.

If only our skies could
be the layers of a sundae--
a limited selection
that always comes down to
hot fudge, nuts,
with a defrosted cherry on top--
then our decisions
would be made for us
we could never
be wrong.

Instead we deliver
Icy Thundery Blueberry BubbleGumy hard serve
on those days--
too complicated to understand
too unwilling to shorten their title
too difficult to be simply BlueGumTuesday
because the sky,
too mixed up to be...Blue.

We raise our scoop
for each serving to dish out--
with them we learn our taste
what calms our nerves
and how to evaporate the rain,
because when we get
to have those cloudless days
we'll have the day
to be flavorful.

the rain is coming as a torture that aqueda has plans for cronus




you see last night, cronus and athena, put the terrorists in the sun

and in the course of the day, osama brought on heavy rain to canberra at

2.45 pm and this is sort of a way, of keeping cronus in for a while

so, he can’t be a young dude, of cool kid to the young

at present the wind and rain is coming, it sounds nice

a pretty look, but just after cronus put the terrorists in the sun

well, the rain is the answer, to hide the goings on, of what

is really hanging, ya see each terrorist, is being set free by osama

but dad, wanted me, to enjoy life, so under crocus’s spirit, he

hid the sun, from canberra, as it was a chance, to fight to keep

the terrorists strapped down in the sun, ya see the reason why

i say this, the terrorists are trying to get me to tie myself up

and keep cronus from telling the world, and force cronus

to be a little woosey to a tease, while dad fights off these

terrorists, just to make sure, they stay, dad used all of

his science stuff he knew, to force his son cronus to be

safe, as his spirit, can be unleashed to help barry allan

become the new helper of athena and cronus, to help

buddha mend every blade of grass, ya see, the rain

was also caused, by a big tidal wave, in jupiter, where

sam kinison and paul berenyi are taking surfing lessons, and at

present if you open up your third eye, your imagination

you can see this big surfing tournament on jupiter

ya see at present the leader is olga chick, and leo

had as just said he was special agent as his previous life

was known as jupiter’s special agent surfer, while they were

on earth talking about the baby twins

and olga chick has just been announced the winner

but athena and dad under crocus’s power, are battling a hard

thunder, which the terrorists are causing  thunder over canberra at 3 pm

this is going to be a tough journey, but we need to calm these

terrorists, ya see, paul berenyi flied off saying, we need to show olga how to have a good time

leo is a little cool kid, and sam kinison fled off to help

my dad battle the terrorists, trying to escape the sun

but athena, crocus’s power through dad and sam kinison and buddha

are keeping these terrorists down, you see one terrorist is the

witch doctor who kidnapped and killed 8 year old patrick dunbar

my life before greame thorne, and i am suffering, trying to rid this evil ghost

now paul is trying to use the cosmic energy that athena showed him

to keep these dead terrorists, starpped down, burning there hooligan in the sun

the rain has stopped, but the terrorists are still trying to cause more thundery rain

for cronus in CANBERRA, make the canberra people suffer the terrorists say

yeah they are off the earth, but they can cause petty little stupid bogus crimes

which could stop people thinking that the terrorists are really bad

don’t get ****** in, HELP ME keep these terrorists strapped to the sun

make the thunder not ruin

start to recycle, start to look after the earth, enjoy life

but be aware, this isn’t the end, i was kidnapped by ted bundy after ted bundy died

and so was brendan from next door, yeah

the terrorists are worst now, keep them strapped down

bring my tying myself up up to jupiter, so i can be free

I have never crossed an ocean,

there are parts of me the world will never see

I may never conquer mountains,

fierce ranges scraping thundery skies.

Or forge paths through matted jungles

sticky darknesses and wildlife.

Forgive me, myself

for I am not yet of able mind

to be the adventurer you wish to be.

Captivating is the boat sailing across the ocean,
Alluring are the winds blowing from the Sahara,
Amnesiac are the long winter nights in my bed,
Vandalizing are my thoughts and dreams which never came true,

I walk alone and journey across the world,
I fight the thundery and cold storms of the desert,
I cuddle in my bed during the Winters to keep myself from getting cold,
And I cry as none of my hopes may ever come true,

As I walk alone the only thing that accompanies me is my shadow,
The curvy paths of the desert and the runny sand swallow me into their crust,
The blanket that I wear to protect myself acts as a shield,
And my tears that I shed they mend and teach me what its like to be heart broken.

As the light slid in
It burnt the dreaded lover
Consciousness cindered and smoked in the eyes

The last thundery beat of breath tore across the confused lips
Lips contorted and irises melted

The vibrations of the ether pushed on
The moment rolled past like a bass line
Cold rhythm of snaking steel wire
writhed through the weary spine.

The path of chaos
Igniting each tendril, each nerve ending

And the lover sighs
For none of us are safe
In the wake of what it means
To be human.

Today the rain was belting out, as it fell on the sidewalk,
a song specifically for me. She was telling me about the
time she filled the earth under command from a god she
could not believe in. She was singing in her thundery alto
pitter patter pitter patter whooosh whoosh. She was also
greeting me at my feet, collecting all her clear and crisp
and clairvoyant ideas and soaking them through my shoes
and making my socks wet.

For hours they're chasing

each other across the plains:


thundery showers.

turn around fast
eight times... and laugh
slide through
thundery afternoons
endure the past
moment by moment
overcome the future
now and forget -
year after year after year ...

You've learnt to love the moon, as I've reached for our skies.
We've shared so much as rose—then to descend the skies.
Whether it was the shining violet night or the everlasting blue sky—it was you whom stayed in my side.

In the burning days of May, with your lilies in a valley that only bloom in shade. I'll look forward for its moment to bloom—a gardener to his loving natured moon.

Day or night—it didn't matter with you. I'll rise to the skies with your hand in mine. Seeing our valley of which our time lied.

Foggy or clear—hold your hand closer to mine. I'll lead our way through our thundery skies. Seeing your worried smile, I'll shine bright for the meanwhile.

Although, it isn't a question of time, but who will fall first from our summer skies.