That day, the sun as bright as yellow-white,
the day Robinhood met Cinderella
on the fairgrounds at Montezuma
and Cervantes  white steed was neighing
tied to the fence
and both them,
)Robin and Cindy(
at the same time
went over to try and calm him
and Cervantes tilted ( a bit high  drunk stupored )
he was. Spilt the horse's water
all over both of them.
Cinderella's white shirt
became transparent.
Nubs soft curves
all apparent.
Robin stood,
impressed by the display before him.
Then, Maid Marion showed up,
grabbed Robin by the scruff of his neck.
And Cervantes saw Don Quixote
approaching.
Quickly he threw
the horses blanket
over Cinderella's beauty.
He whispered in her ear,
I know this abandoned windmill
near, we might
have a tilt or two,
Cinderella lost a shoe running
to the horse to mount
with Cervantes
whipping reins and dust flied
as they disappeared
to never ever be
seen again.

to all the sun beams
beckoned called
along the farther wall
where the rainbow
days usually display

I love you
glow on me
for the rest of days
join the colored rainbow glowing
red green yellow colors unnamed
a bright display

can I count days in them
count a magenta as one
vermillion as two
and what would be three
silly
how I weigh

these light fantastics and try to communicate
with them
Brilliant is all I  know
how they dance on
the western wall
glimmer

better than
television

the band plays soft slow elegance
a sax low soothes
a siren sings
away into those hearts right
**** into your's and her
arteries
making you hold her closer
fluttering
coooooo low does that sax player smooth
and she becomes
your appendage
connected now
slow you grind sway around
the dance floor like on a sidewalk in front of everyone
it don't matter now
just the swaying feel the blood rush the harmonies
got jazz in your
bodies
sway

called


******* three AM  

fast asleep I didn't answer

that is when the earth shook
the 747 crashed and two people
aboard survived
and the survivors  appeared on CNN thanking God

I was having a dream about
babysitters I think or
raw bare muffs
muffins getting stuffed
i forget

anyways
I appeared in my dream all staring
back inside me laughing
you are an imbecile
my me said coarse
harsh

I then awoke
I ain't gonna take **** from my **** self
tried to call me out
fight like a man
you imbecile

I had divided thoughts
I and me presumed
and doubts along a thin line
left or right
and in between

as fisticuffs met jaws and legs tangled up
noses bent but
most of the damage went to
knuckles aching again

that night
God's office
didn't call
I don't
know why

dad and I
would fish
read books
study rocks
now....

one the stories gently tell her all of him
how some soft summer
he was alone in the woods
and the sun spoke
to him

the trees laid him on the ground
how he once fell
broke an elbow
and the fairies came
out of the ashes

in a fire, he had built to
calm the winter's
cold humanities
indifference
and told him

hang on darling
be quiet
stop all those tears
someday
I will send you

a princess
a beautiful vision
a mighty mighty
long breath
of heaven

for you to take fully
to see
one glimpse
sir,
on earth

of heaven

cheap street used raw
I see how you see me naked
through my clothes
bare

bare as a raw carrot
exposed
on the market shelf
and I guess

you get excited
something below
gives free commerce
a thought

what might be the cost
and what are the rewards
can I get a jolly rancher
for a nickel  

a ride on the rolling
thunder a minute
again
seems

like you see me
here
you turned around

ah built of the rarest things
she stands elegant
a flare a star a moonbeam
all the rarest things
here

here I accept her bright her smile
her heat her heart glare
her touch a soft warming
confidence

all woman
all stars
all earthy knowing
all rarer than any
diamond

I take it
I bask I glow I become more
than what I was
before she dawned crested
smiled that beginning at me

I bow I pray I thank
every god I know
praise her
she is rare
she is precious

she is now
everything

I'll just play that song again
pine away in
hope the one part of me
not dying yet

and suppose
or check the door
with every creak
every settling of this

old house
wipe the cobwebs
away from
the window

and peep at the
empty street
just
hope keeps me

these days
company

it is a bitter pill to swallow
a willow on my shoulder
her width is covering me
in shadow

I try to grow all tall
and better I try
to make each sunrise
day brighter

My roots grow shallow
I fight
I strive to
get nutrients

among this forest
of tall trees
suffocating me
I am but a little
****

and my father was
an oak
my mother grew her hair
long
to the ground

like a building without a facade
a church without a door
I stammer
utter a false prologue
made up in a backyard of days
past
sandbox hopes red skins sweltering
where we never tired
just played
with matchbox cars
and saved all our popsicle sticks
making lanes
in the dirt
until  mama called dinner
and we ate pork chops beaming
those days I cherish
now I
sit on the couch
reminiscing

if there are any heavens my mother will(all by herself)have
one. It will not be a ***** heaven nor
a fragile heaven of lilies-of-the-valley but
it will be a heaven of blackred roses

my father will be(deep like a rose
tall like a rose)

standing near my

swaying over her
(silent)
with eyes which are really petals and see

nothing with the face of a poet really which
is a flower and not a face with
hands
which whisper
This is my beloved my

(suddenly in sunlight

he will bow,

&the whole garden will bow)







Edward Estlin CUMMINGS

truth and happiness devoted to you my dear
some sunny day you look back and see
among a busy life a sudden path
may come along and take you anywhere
then look back at this

somber almond eyes so dark
pleading come
a face of salty silk
taste
wounds came forth were
healed
her hips thrusting forth with
the sea's force
an ebb flow
an almost surreality
among visions of
longer nights
ahead
but brevity
broke in
now
I am stunned
remembering

to beautify the dust of me
someday
to call the will tamed
away near
to specify a psalm
heard once
to once touch
in eternity
to calm a worn frazzled
mind in
reminiscences looking
out  of
an old window stuck by layers
of paint
and sainted dreams withered lost
and quaint
all that is left like an elm leaf
blowing
in the winds of time and serenity
I hope of
destiny

working with a brain that evolved in caveman days
unable to parse  these urges
coded into my double helix
I find influences of meditation
in choosing passwords
for those ten million e-mail accounts
I created
forgot about
were
broken into
taken my
ssn#
my birthdate
so I got calm
thought about Nirvana
about fantasy and reality
tried to calm the
default Node network
and see clearly
that passwords when evolving were not needed
I got calmer
hmmmmmmmmmm
ing
overcoming delusions
I changed my name
to Evaporate
and my ssn# to none
and my password to
Ou812
****
I am stupid
just told all you's

my armchair lost a leg
today

once then a time been a morn' shine a day grown
into a full year it seems stunningly glare-ing
me into a sudden reality
it spoke commonly about
a heart and a wink a kiss a soft shoulder
pink
on a bank of a river flowed
small animals testaments
they gathered round
for this was magical
a story of  
many textual diddy contraptions and she
was sure
me was her one
and it hearted warmed calmed me
and felt me like I needed
all surety and  conceptions with dreams
all colliding
in stardust dreams and moonbeams
with moon pies and hot coffee
and confessions
penetrations are awaiting
ears are amazing

I'm (is a  contraction acceptable?)
in the first line of a write
or a question mark?
I had a poem written and now question all my theories and
perceptions.
Let me know.
What is,
society

he started the banjo man did plinkin'
amid the heavy drag of a slow cool
bass harmony strung out on a long low note,
it sounded like nails on a chalkboard at first
or a cat in heat mewing loud in the alley
and crescendoed into a full blown
attack on my sanity my notions
as he plunked away and chorded a falsetto guitar note
like eric clapton playing a ukelele
drugged out the clanking E
called out a G
then faster he took me as the bass fought to accompany
along an a fast tweedling dee
and a C that cried liked birds
and the blues fans applauded the folk singers sat agape the rock singers sang Hallejuah
and the minstrels swayed
so many fast
f'ing F's  G's B's flats and concordances
it was like a thousand harps from heaven turned loose in fast forward
and I ****** him
**** banjo man
that was good

atop the glistened mirror top
where the sky projects on this mirrored  surface
clouds and limitless
floats a small girl almost flower like
lotus pearl white arms pirouette
a flowered world on a
polished pond a vision
of graphene serenity
stronger than anything
like looking at melting suns
starbursts and signatures
of Greek gods acclaim
la fleur so small
grandiose
beauty stemmed
perfectionist
floating proud
independent
an image
glowing
sincere
just there

I have no idea why this  word took my head just then
I was just perusing the internet
and retinue curtsied at my mind's doorway
it just popped up and said
try to guess me
so I googled the **** out of it
and found it quite the
oddest thing
I'd rather have one
close confidant
than  a parade
of strangers
-to tell the truth-
someone who knows me inside out
than a whole wide world
of posers

where the shock of sudden
and the calm of a breeze mist
meet

right there
under a willow tree

her skirt floating
long petals narrow
hide my peace and protect

hiding my face as I peer
into life's mysteriousness
a new Bambi like

human being refreshed
shorn of the hair of
self-moderation

no bangs hiding my eyes no mist
no greys or half sighs
taking fully

in sight the grace of a
day a slight
re-borning

rejuvenation
samsara
reincarnation

just new and cleansed
and her scent
the willow tree's privacy

making a new man
a new  me

chances and throes
of squandering gifts
given us  
by this blue and green orb
with a new and bigger truck
hey have fun
all the same separate
I might idealize
where the fun is destructing
or using or litter
of Six billions of us
*******
on those under
those lower on the rung
getting ****** daily
hey
I am the top have my day
in the sun I believe in the rigged
system because I have
the means
elect another Oligarch
big dicked mouth liar next time
cause in the end
change is good
people
and the times a gonna change
watch em
Heil Trump!

I lost then found
a purpose
became again the  leader
of my own pack
I made a pact with
several of my persona
to just be one
there in the insane
asylum

dreamer the fiction seer of visions
the illusions of perceptions
the daze of humans
the false water shimmers
in the distance as
we the believers
transcend this temporary
existence
do we softly go
along the hot sand  burning
our souls
or can we make haste
imagining our
ultimate destinations?

shout out
****** a brush right straight down
the elemental throat
take all the things that make white
and paint the suburbs the city streets
the acres of corn fields variously
neon naked ladies
the truck stop babes
the pimps in black
the red and green lights yellow
caution
what is this canvas
if not the stew brewed now unfrozen
a big silver spoon
slid into
a commotion
a shotgun blast in a robbery
a bank
making false accounts for profit
the last ounce of street cred
blood leaking on the pavements black
they have power
those archangels those who preach
make America great again
I wanna go to a rally for
four years
have a maniac
speak dichotomies
like a psychotic
schizophrenic
one day sane the next neurotic
I take the brush and whitewash all of us and maybe
the nazis and imbeciles might pass  us by

We have been watching this orb now for what, 20,000 years?

Plato 2215 made by the Crtalbols on Circes X, answered
in his beeps and borgles (hereafter translated to English)
said, at least that long.  Until now a most boring science. It took these,
****, what, oh yes, humans, 19900 years to figure out relativity.

Zybert sighed. Yes P,  he called the half biological one-quarter chemical and one- quarter mechanical droid, it has been a time, and that Einstein
looks a lot like your mom did, or, those biological components of you.

Until this last election, I thought these "humans" P borgled out with emphasis showing his disdain, were uneventful and fully boring as
those things on our planet Circes X those rock like creatures that never move but once in a light year, and that, a small scratching of their reproductive parts.

Zybert giggled out his long probosci's thing
spraying sparks and what looked like graffiti,
actually, shredded styrofoam on which he subsists. He tucked his six arms around a mass of pus protuberances I suspect is his stomach chortling.Yes, I suspected their total stupidity. I saw them going to war left and right all over the blue sphere. Always restless from the beginning. He said catching his breaths.

But, when they fell for our Cyborg Donald which we fabricated out of an ancient Rackist 1785 x2 .***  lying board and pasted that yellow excrement you **** daily as his hair and that complexion, so orange....hahaha!!  How dumb are these things?

I have this place
no one knows about
between a field and a willow tree
along a pastures edge
a creek down around the corner
I go to when
things get oppressive
dark and hard
and I sit there
I don't know if I meditate
there in this place hidden
but I get peace
I see love I hug this earth

I have the blessings platitudes
in attitude charade
the meanings mists
in smoky haze

the heritages
of many moons
the gaze of lovers
crazy sacrilege

once the sun came up around
the backs of men
surrounded them
in monuments and sacrifice

and I will never be one of them
I take the women
you left behind
a coward mighty

in my seeing how
ultimately
it is not my fight:
my urge

is only loving

and  one thing, in particular,
seems to be my disturbing
philosophy
I read the

works of Machiavelli,
and considered him the
fool.

Her arms so arabesque,
choreographed by Balanchine,
smoothly flow
raise and lower
in time to unheard melodies,
A Flamingo when this lady
dresses.
Bees and birds stop fluttering,
watch, as
she pulls those stockings
slow, so slowly
up her silky leg
to heaven.

amid ten thousand million
wriggling parasites
I found you
and you calmed me
like the seaside roar
or a valley view a vista seen
amid ten thousand million
views of casualities
you appeared
and  tamed me
like a waterfall
or a tall mountain viewed pristeen
amid ten thousand million
views of casualties
you walked up
and made me
like a roaring lion
on the seashore on the crest of
a tall mountain
the man I was meant to be
and you

and who can say them in your twenties
but a brief love  on the shore
forties the desire for success
makes those songs disappear
in the rush
and worrying as the fifties aches and pains
appear take over your fitness
drain most of your energies
sixties soon approach and you tend
to drift off into
memories of a long time ago
be they lullabies
sudden kisses
hands you used to hold
days grow shorter still
on a rocker in the corner
covered by a quilt
and may you be listening
to lullabies
again?

the stones said it
**** two lips on a stick
belted it out
a Buddhist chant
almost
I can't get no satisfaction
and when I do
it is so fleeting

http://hellopoetry.com/poems/daily/

just sitting in my den
absorbing existentialism
ain't no way
my genes gonna
be in the next generation

stands its season
ripe
as the depictions painted
outlive nature's generosity
tend as lovers do
to forget
their fragility
handling flesh like swords
conquering the earth with passion's
brevity
just as the reaper swipes
his scythe ruthlessly
and the chaff
falls like fallen soldiers do
into dirt
as we all do

Now they want to make a film
For anyone lacking the ability
To imagine the body, head in oven,
Orphaning children

[...] they think
I should give them my mother's words
To fill the mouth of their monster,
Their Sylvia Suicide Doll

of a poem?
tell me before I go on ranting
living passionate
dying day after day in rejections
is there a parallel in nature?
The nest perhaps
and the bee worker
hurrying
feeding one Queen the importance
does that mean
all those stings are less?

Sylvia Plath, 1932 - 1963

Love set you going like a fat gold watch.
The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry
Took its place among the elements.

Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival.  New statue.
In a drafty museum, your nakedness
Shadows our safety.  We stand round blankly as walls.

I’m no more your mother
Than the cloud that distills a mirror to reflect its own slow
Effacement at the wind’s hand.

All night your moth-breath
Flickers among the flat pink roses.  I wake to listen:
A far sea moves in my ear.

One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral
In my Victorian nightgown.
Your mouth opens clean as a cat’s.  The window square

Whitens and swallows its dull stars.  And now you try
Your handful of notes;
The clear vowels rise like balloons.

nothing in life can be
scaled  weighed unless it is a commodity
gold silver wheat
nothing will ever balance the scales
of the ultimate difference
men and women
this can not be ever viewed as
balancing the scales in totality
women are the  only ones who conceive
men are the casters  the pollen
it is what drove Sylvia wild

my voice
what shall I make of it
so strong deep
such an instrument

may I make a tool of healing
or enlightenment
a fool of myself
with unreasoning

or further man's evolvement
supreme or
cause any one to gain faith
strength or  reason

a bit more reasonable
if that would be  the depth
I gladly accept

than said a disillusioned young man
tired  of propaganda
I think I shall
after all move
back to Russia again
where people realize fake news
is all there is
and oligarchs
are the rule

fascination can be at shiny baubles
dangling like  dizzying beads sparkled
on success chains of lithe necks
or we those darker sides surveyors
of anything but gold
portraying the  tops of clouds
the other side of mountains
the side of the bead
against flesh feeling
but un-lightened
sweaty and real
the unopened letters piling up
in mailboxes fully stuffed
see
the other side I suppose
of the same coin the dark side of the moon
looking up
but down sequentially
prospecting
solutions instead of reward
the resolution
an end
sad it all is
how some are born
with no future

be the bell jar tonight
a working girl at a publisher
while unsatisfied she ponders the stereotypes
motherhood
writing a novel, but lacks life-experience
Becoming the bottom of the jar
the sticky part
that never pours out
she never sleeps
she becomes the stickiness
of life
tries
to  drown in the honey at the bottom
the residue
except the chance she
may conceive
more than a poem a novel
idea
and so the equality never
comes

to fall in love
with a girl next door
a woman on the other side of the globe
a legend
say
Marilyn
or  get
'namored and hammered and 'flicted by
a man even
were his name Mark Twain

Well, thish-yer Smiley had rat-tarriers, and chicken *****, and tom- cats, and all of them kind of things, till you couldn't rest, and you couldn't fetch nothing for him to bet on but he'd match you. He ketched a frog one day, and took him home, and said he cal'klated to edercate him; and so he never done nothing for three months but set in his back yard and learn that frog to jump. And you bet you he did learn him, too. He'd give him a little punch behind, and the next minute you'd see that frog whirling in the air like a doughnut see him turn one summerset, or may be a couple, if he got a good start, and come down flat-footed and all right, like a cat. He got him up so in the matter of catching flies, and kept him in practice so constant, that he'd nail a fly every time as far as he could see him. Smiley said all a frog wanted was education, and he could do most any thing and I believe him. Why, I've seen him set Dan'l Webster down here on this floor Dan'l Webster was the name of the frog and sing out, "Flies, Dan'l, flies!" and quicker'n you could wink, he'd spring straight up, and snake a fly off'n the counter there, and flop down on the floor again as solid as a gob of mud, and fall to scratching the side of his head with his hind foot as indifferent as if he hadn't no idea he'd been doin' any more'n any frog might do. You never see a frog so modest and straightforward as he was, for all he was so gifted. And when it come to fair and square jumping on a dead level, he could get over more ground at one straddle than any animal of his breed you ever see. Jumping on a dead level was his strong suit, you understand; and when it come to that, Smiley would ante up money on him as long as he had a red. Smiley was monstrous proud of his frog, and well he might be, for fellers that had traveled and been everywheres, all said he laid over any frog that ever they see.


Mark Twain

and he had a little small bull pup, that to look at him you'd think he wan's worth a cent, but to set around and look ornery, and lay for a chance to steal something. But as soon as money was up on him, he was a different dog; his underjaw'd begin to stick out like the fo'castle of a steamboat, and his teeth would uncover, and shine savage like the furnaces. And a dog might tackle him, and bully- rag him, and bite him, and throw him over his shoulder two or three times, and Andrew Jackson which was the name of the pup Andrew Jackson would never let on but what he was satisfied, and hadn't expected nothing else and the bets being doubled and doubled on the other side all the time, till the money was all up; and then all of a sudden he would grab that other dog jest by the j'int of his hind leg and freeze on it not chew, you understand, but only jest grip and hang on till they thronged up the sponge, if it was a year. Smiley always come out winner on that pup, till he harnessed a dog once that didn't have no hind legs, because they'd been sawed off by a circular saw, and when the thing had gone along far enough, and the money was all up, and he come to make a ****** for his pet bolt, he saw in a minute how he'd been imposed on, and how the other dog had him in the door, so to speak, and he 'peered sur- prised, and then he looked sorter discouraged-like, and didn't try no more to win the fight, and so he got shucked out bad. He give Smiley a look, as much as to say his heart was broke, and it was his fault, for putting up a dog that hadn't no hind legs for him to take bolt of, which was his main dependence in a fight, and then he limped off a piece and laid down and died. It was a good pup, was that Andrew Jackson, and would have made a name for hisself if he'd lived, for the stuff was in him, and he had genius I know it, because he hadn't had no opportunities to speak of, and it don't stand to reason that a dog could make such a fight as he could under them circumstances, if he hadn't no talent. It always makes me feel sorry when I think of that last fight of his'n, and the way it turned out.


Mark Twain

Thish-yer Smiley had a mare the boys called her the fifteen- minute nag, but that was only in fun, you know, because, of course, she was faster than that and he used to win money on that horse, for all she was so slow and always had the asthma, or the distemper, or the consumption, or something of that kind. They used to give her two or three hundred yards start, and then pass her under way; but always at the ***-end of the race she'd get excited and desperate- like, and come cavorting and straddling up, and scattering her legs around limber, sometimes in the air, and sometimes out to one side amongst the fences, and kicking up m-o-r-e dust, and raising m-o-r-e racket with her coughing and sneezing and blowing her nose and always fetch up at the stand just about a neck ahead, as near as you could cipher it down.


Mark Twain

may I sit once
here on the bank of the river
and just see
and not metaphor the flow
or analogy the limbs
with one finger sticking out of the water
just feel the sand under me and not count
every one and try to name them
it gets wearisome
being a poet
on a lonesome creek
sitting on my ***
on a bank