"waistcoats" poems
GOD GOES FOR A WALK
God goes
for a walk.
it is the depths of Winter
but, at a whim
he makes it
...Spring.
Because.
He can.
I also, as it happens
have gone for a walk
& am surprised by
the sudden change of
the weather. . ?
...whatever!
He is wearing a yellow
gangster style fedora.
He looks like Marlon Brando
being The Godfather.
He sports the brightest of yellow
waistcoats
which compliments
the purple shirt...purple trousers.
He strides along with His
Paisley patterned Parisian walking stick
whistling the music of
The Spheres.
The World bows
before him.
He is well pleased
with Himself, un-
-til: He encounters me
coming towards him
dressed in a gangster style
yellow fedora
the brightest of yellow waistcoats
not to mention the purple shirt...purple trousers.
I, also, possess
a Paisley patterned Parisian walking stick.
We nod politely
saying nothing but...
He is miffed at me
wearing His outfit and
I also miffed at Him
wearing mine!
We pass each other
God & creature.
And ******* if He doesn't
make it Winter
on the very next step.
He was always
a Jealous God.
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 2:08 PM UTC
Over staffed and under fed
Spanish waiters
rush around with
waistcoats of wisdom
wearing black shoes
of sordid shift-work soles.
They greet and speak to every new
tourist, and regular, as if a
brother, sister, mother, second-cousin-twice-removed
stepmother, yet really they are:
the ephemeral fodder of the
cheap, low-cost-airline,
the flash and it’s gone spine of most cities
on the map,
the ‘Sorry, I left it in a Barcelona Café, could I get it back on insurance?’
baseball cap, that most sightseer marionettes wear, back to front,
the standing in line, waiting to complain,
tourists that know nothing of decorum.
So the Spanish waiter served me my coffee
and whispered in my ear,
‘Disfrutar de su día senor’,
that was,
'Enjoy your day Sir’.
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 11:00 AM UTC
It was with the sun
that they drove eighteen miles to every quarter of an hour
to the port
where they put down the car and started like petals from every dead flower they saw together.
Up the steps
he tried to steal her waist for his own,
willing his arms to stretch around widths they weren't made for,
only to cement the idea that they weren't alone.
In the cabin they fell asleep to familiar films
and woke up to see the sea out of a round window
and the guarantee they won't hit land nor port
until the captain's say so on the inbuilt radio.
They came back from a grand meal
that was of Titanic proportions, tidy suits and surreal women in waistcoats,
they made love in a bed that wasn't theirs,
and he witnessed it and saw
her new print dress that caught and tore and was reduced to shreds upon the floor.
Sep 8, 2013
Sep 8, 2013 at 3:53 PM UTC
I am the Hatter who is mad, they say.
Gone around the bend in every way.
A loon of the sorts who adores riddles and tea,
drowning in a land of ecstasy.
Come with me now! And please don’t fret!
I’ll show you wonders you will never forget!
I’ll show you heaven, hell, and everything in between,
the moon, stars, spiraling galaxies!
A magical realm where nothing is what it seems,
rabbits in waistcoats and a vicious red queen.
My home has an abundance of enchanted food and drink;
when consumed it could make you grow tall or shrink.
I am the mascot of this terrain.
Everyone knows me by my name.
So, let’s go and take my hand.
To a place that Alice called Wonderland!
Oct 18, 2020
Oct 18, 2020 at 5:57 PM UTC
Chaotic systems
Disabled stems
Controlled streams
Dash in seams
Work ain't progress
It's a misused regress
Full of regrets
The greatest dissolution
No vision, just revisions
The mission of bureaucracy
Hypocrisy and autocratic casts
Top cats bumper weighty bonuses
Outclassed in beer bellies
Slashed in pompous waistcoats
*What a waste on the coast?
**I am not afraid to tell you, "I ain't a ******* robot"**
I am not a machine of production and rotations
**I am not afraid to tell you, "Go **** your *****
Give me time to be creative, innovative and autonomous
Chaotic systems
Disabled stems
Controlled streams
Dash in seams
Be an example, model the sample
Let the leader lead the leaders
Let the leader be the servant
An active weaver of the basket
To hold with the strongest straws
In rows and crows, clinging to all
A negotiator of the common people
A facilitator in times of conflict
Let the worker be dedicated
Passionate, triumphant and trial-led
But the case is, all are in it for the money
I am not afraid to tell capitalists, "Give workers their rights"
**I am not a ******* charity mate! Share the faked matte!**
**I am not afraid to tell you, "Stick it up on your ***
Give me time to be creative, innovative and autonomous
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 4:16 AM UTC
He fell down a rabbit hole,
chasing after a crazy dream
He met a rabbit with a waistcoat.
He braved the Red Queen.
He had tea with a caterpillar.
He spoke with talking flowers.
He faced his worst nightmares,
and he lived to tell the tale.
And eventually he crawled back out,
ready to face the world.
But no one believed him.
The more he told,
the more he was scorned.
And he drew farther and farther into himself,
comforting himself with stories and talking flowers,
and a rabbit in a waistcoat.
Soon that was all he had left,
stories and fantasies.
Until one day he plunged back through the rabbit hole,
grasping for a crazy dream.
There he learned the trade of making hats,
but he soon surpassed his masters and peers.
Once again he was scorned,
and he relocated to an old house with two other outcasts,
making hats and drinking tea to fill his time.
He retreated into himself once again,
this time literally becoming as mad as a hatter,
and this became his title.
And soon no one remembered his true name,
knowing only that was mad,
until his title became his name: the Mad Hatter.
Only one ever tried to know why he was mad,
and her name was Alice.
And in her presence,
he found himself, though still quite mad, less mad.
He even found that he liked it,
though he never let his other mad companions know that.
But she, too, fell back through the rabbit hole,
and he was alone,
with only fantasies and madmen to keep him company.
Until one day many years later he found a woman, wandering,
mumbling about talking flowers and rabbits with waistcoats,
almost as mad as himself.
And her name, he found, was Alice,
and in each other’s presence they found, though they were still quite mad,
they were decidedly less so.
And they found they liked it.
Mar 5, 2010
Mar 5, 2010 at 1:19 PM UTC
pocket filled waistcoats rub
their ears, perception like
fist full grass, an expedenture
that pause when you drift,
as well.
you cannot carry two children,
one in each slid curve of elbows.
Their ringlets will weigh the mass
of expanding legions, discipline and
love in revolution an absence
from rounded bellies.
neurons do not balance in transgression,
their procession the infinite arch of
fugues weaved through rhythm erratic feet.
two strike a semblance,
a cape-fled general gagging hemlock
to the weaker stallion's dry spit.
Dec 12, 2011
Dec 12, 2011 at 3:56 PM UTC
I often find myself in wonderland
Talking to cheshire cats
And rabbits in waistcoats
I feel normal here,
For nothing is normal here.
The land is peculiar
And the earth feels unstable
I wish to leave this obscure place
I wish to go home.
Then I am brought back to reality
My wishes have been granted
And I have found what I was looking for.
Yet now it seems unwanted
I feel unnormal here
For everything is normal here
I wish for cheshire cats
And rabbits in waistcoats
A place where I can be accepted
And explore.
I wish for adventures
With strange creatures that can only be imagined
A place that seems like a dream
And is full of dreams.
Where a mushroom can cause a change of perspective
Where hatters are mad
And the queen has no heart.
A wonderful land
I often find myself reminiscing
Talking of cheshire cats
And rabbits in waistcoats
Of a place where I seemed normal
For everything was unnormal
I wish for a land that is peculiar
And the earth feels unstable
I wish for wonderland.
Feb 14, 2013
Feb 14, 2013 at 6:57 PM UTC
Why Is It When I'm Doing What Dogs Do,
What Dogs Are Designed To Do,
Then I'm A Bad Dog?
Why Is It When I'm Not Doing What Dogs Do,
Denying My Very Nature,
Then I'm A Good Dog?
Sniffing Strangers' ***** ******* Auntie's Leg;
******* To Say 'I Woz 'Ere' - That's What We Were Made For!
Sitting Still And Silent, Make No noise Or Smell,
Wearing Dainty Waistcoats - Just An Evil Joke!
Good Dog, Bad Dog - Why Can't We Decide,
Join Your Debate On The Meaning Of 'Good'?
We Dogs Can Emote And Intuit, Be Logical And Positive!
Philosophical Dogs, Unite!
You Have Nothing To Lose But Your...
Oh, Yes, You've Lost Them Already. ****
Mar 28, 2012
Mar 28, 2012 at 5:27 PM UTC
She kept a promise to herself
by sweeping her lair
to remind herself work had to be done,
rayon waistcoats and crossing rubicons
to iron out those industrious imperfections
that had made for her rugged fayre ,
no longer undecided she'd vanish the dust
from the present
that had slyly thwarted the fullness
of her bond.
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 7:12 PM UTC
Socratic polemics
In a wilderness
Of waistcoats
Listening to noisy
Cups of coffee
Sep 4, 2012
Sep 4, 2012 at 7:08 PM UTC
GOD GOES FOR A WALK
God goes
for a walk.
it is the depths of Winter
but, at a whim
he makes it
...Spring.
Because.
He can.
I also, as it happens
have gone for a walk
& am surprised by
the sudden change of
the weather. . ?
...whatever!
He is wearing a yellow
gangster style fedora.
He looks like Marlon Brando
being The Godfather.
He sports the brightest of yellow
waistcoats
which compliments
the purple shirt...purple trousers.
He strides along with His
Paisley patterned Parisian walking stick
whistling the music of
The Spheres.
The World bows
before him.
He is well pleased
with Himself, un-
-til: He encounters me
coming towards him
dressed in a gangster style
yellow fedora
the brightest of yellow waistcoats
not to mention the purple shirt...purple trousers.
I, also, possess
Paisley patterned Parisian walking stick.
We nod politely
saying nothing but...
He is miffed at me
wearing His outfit and
I also miffed at Him
wearing mine!
We pass each other
God & creature.
And ******* if He doesn't
make it Winter
on the very next step.
He was always
a Jealous God.
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 4:47 PM UTC
He was black in the face, and they scarcely could trace
The least likeness to what he had been:
While so great was his fright that his waistcoat turned white -
A wonderful thing to be seen!
Lewis Carroll, from "The Hunting of the Snark", 1876
There was an old man of Port Grigor,
Whose actions were noted for vigour;
He stood on his head till his waistcoat turned red,
That eclectic old man of Port Grigor.
Edward Lear, 1872
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 4:52 PM UTC
Hmmnn ... lets see,
how about a simple disgust
at opulent luxury,
... there's a start,
oh ... & many roomed massive mansions
with heliports & tennis-courts,
that too perhaps you're
not down with,
& million dollar wedding rings &
3 million dollar nuptial feasts,
tiger medicines, rhinceros horns,
elephant foot ash-trays &
private zoos with leopards
for the pleasure of the
near sated man who
needs everything,
& 5 million dollar automobiles,
pate, foie-gras, shark-fin soup,
gold faucets in your bathroom,
& gold seats for you to rest
your so sweet golden
*** on,
penthouse suites overlooking Harlem,
cigar-chomping industrialists loosening
their waistcoats after a heavy steak
dinner over which they've carved up
a portion of what is rightfully
others by birth & right,
hundreds of thousands of dollars
tickets for a seat by the boss,
so's you may get the chance
to whisper your pleadings
& caress his oh so mighty
ego,
pipelines across sacred lands,
Christian hypocrites, wealthy churches,
Catholic debauchery, Evangelical
preachers, replicas of Noah's Ark,
sweat lodge motivational hucksters,
Rolls Royce gurus,
ancient Southern hate
& men in white hoods,
taking a look around,
paying attention,
choosing,
& then signing up.
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 1:30 AM UTC
GOD GOES FOR A WALK
God goes
for a walk.
it is the depths of Winter
but, at a whim
he makes it
...Spring.
Because.
He can.
I also, as it happens
have gone for a walk
& am surprised by
the sudden change of
the weather. . ?
...whatever!
He is wearing a yellow
gangster style fedora.
He looks like Marlon Brando
being The Godfather.
He sports the brightest of yellow
waistcoats
which compliments
the purple shirt...purple trousers.
He strides along with His
Paisley patterned Parisian walking stick
whistling the music of
The Spheres.
The World bows
before him.
He is well pleased
with Himself, un-
-til: He encounters me
coming towards him
dressed in a gangster style
yellow fedora
the brightest of yellow waistcoats
not to mention the purple shirt...purple trousers.
I, also, possess
a Paisley patterned Parisian walking stick.
We nod politely
saying nothing but...
He is miffed at me
wearing His outfit and
I also miffed at Him
wearing mine!
We pass each other
God & creature.
And ******* if He doesn't
make it Winter
on the very next step.
He was always
a Jealous God.
Jul 20, 2019
Jul 20, 2019 at 3:34 AM UTC