Into her old dying eyes,
Cold, one last time he dove,
Swam for that shore
Where basking naked
They had saw,
In those eyes and his,
The molten sun dance
Pursuing rainbows
Arching curves
Of fleshy skies
A time gone,
And knew

Arms flesh spirals rocketing
   Climbing bursting over through cloudsspace dust particles
   Explosive birth
Coronas starlights fast
     Grasped in the black
Clasped together
        In the sparkling
Universe
            Oneness symmetric
A glimpse
             Oh my love,
Heaven.

Taking charge when our congress won't.

Pauly's a good boy
he didn't fliP,
Cohen's of course
gonna sing like a bird,
Flippers ought to be
against the law-
now that's the first time
a President ever said that-
now awaiting some pardons for them,
the loyal to Trump
and his "family"
admin!

"drain the swamp"!!  

Paul Manafort
Michael Cohen
Michael Flynn
George Papadopoulos
Richard Gates

And other Republicans--
( Rep. Duncan Hunter and
Rep. Chris Collins ) -note :  The first two lawmakers to endorse Trump for president

convicted and/or
indicted since he began
his spring cleaning!!

YAY!!!   Trump!

not saying, but, Trump!!!

oh, with witty words
you tell the tales of
trees and birds,
comparing them with human beings

And, how so blithe
one may be, charmed
or harmed,
speak the inspirations of heaven's grace

with obvious skill, among
the wisest to ever wield
a word,
can I ask of you, one question?

If you have all the answers,
Sir, poet of noble appeal,
why do you cloak
all the answers in riddles?

that yellow and black butterfly
I would most assuredly
not flutter around awaiting my return
to pound my wings dance in circles
around my mere countenance

I'd more rather follow the violet
girl into the hills
and encircle her head stutter and prance
wildly aloft on the winds gentle
blow

or set sights on the red rose's open
caress in the glow of the morn'
on some meadow's green
and take chances
on wing

through a sunlit tree
touching each
limb and leaf to
gather more friends
in my brief
visiting.

primary function
          is
      poetry

of the anima and animus
co-exist

just observing from
my particular viewpoint how
the clouds outline is much like
a tree's

“Wise men speak because they have something to say; fools because they have to say something.”
“Those who tell the stories rule society.”
“There are three classes of men; lovers of wisdom, lovers of honor, and lovers of gain.”
“The madness of love is the greatest of heaven's blessings”
“There are two things a person should never be angry at, what they can help, and what they cannot.”
Just a thought.

the down is
all I got
and the up so far away
no matter how I reach it escapes
then pause,

I think,
of the middle ground
how that is where I can
build my home make strong
the

core  
strong foundation
I suspect concrete enough
to face the fall with steps
to climb
should I recede again

there I build on center hill
dig down a wide rock base
lay my blocks straight as
stars that shine
light straight to
me through all the
dark

the basis of my
eternity
my base

are we and the grass and trees
ennobled graced gifted are we
the thriving warrior's
worker ants enrichers feeding the
throng
as we strive daily along
sniffing a scent we get in
our minds a nirvana a heaven if we just
keep on
and we wax and wane in lyrical bliss
tired to the bone whipped
just to hear a song of hope or
love or perpetual peace,
and as we stay the course for
the eternity as it ticks
we are blessed to breathe to be
a part of the chorus
a melody we all make buzzing like bees
a song once did escape the numerous
that sung so rare it made a song
like a bee and an ant on a pine cone
in the forest.
For that,
I hum.

lips all pouty trembling
my chin dimpled again
tears in my eyes listening
to your playlist
when I should be trying
to make the miles disappear
walking your way
if nothing else
instead of just singing along
to love songs on a
soggy Sunday afternoon
tears in my eyes
memories on my breast
wishing you were here
feeling your breath
smelling your perfume
lingering in
the past.

the  bitter wilt on droopy petals  when yesterday
her tilt was to the sun strong as stems
could rise her sweet beauty to the skies
holding lips and arms and blossoms open
long enough for the breeze to romance
the nearest bee into a trance
is like the circle or a dance
of life that glances knowingly back
with wry amusement a sly smile glance
saying told you so  so many times
you should have known by now,
old friend of mine,
time is really nothing
but your
foe.

You sit in your covey all
Conforming to its boxy confines
Every corner filled to its limit
With fleshy retreats
The box constraining your minute
The corners defining your
Face your shoulders
Your thighs pressed to your cheeks in grimace the cardboard
Outlining your
Territory you've yet to explore
The whole thing.
And wonder about the things
Yet you may find when
You explode
From the constraints
What size may you become
What shape other than
Square. What space
You will find
When someday you come to find
The box was all in your mind
And the limits all fake
And self-imposed.

what of the seed perfumes the form of the
bud  the color of her petals her flow through
the cycle some wisdom or design
has to be in the manifest depth of that circle
creating a seed once more to shed light on a scented perfume
tall the flower grows in total beauty, you say
it is intangible where the design emanates
but riddles are for man to unravel
in all his sciences prose and poems
and for all the life's cycles
what we discover and decide usually leads
to many amazements

I heard it as distinct as I hear my heartbeat
in my ears. A slight, faint plaint, from the corner
of my closet.
Was it a purr? Or a breath from a lost friend
calling me to look. Marge, a phantasm, memory?
Touched my shoulder. I heard words say,
look in the little box in the corner.
I did, as I thought of looking back,
and saw two eyes peep up. Grey white furry head attached.
They seemed to say to me, I am sorry.
I heard mews then, I knew.
My Babay, a stray I took in when I  lost her, was nursing four of
earth's miracles.
I haven't cried as much since Jan 7th.
I fed her tuna milk.
and, bought me a big
cigar, alternating,
between memories,
and the newness of life.

Brianna Love in Minnesota and I in Alabama wish to announce and share with all a new addition to our family.
So far one beautiful kitten has been born to babygirl, Brianna's cat, who for eight years lived in the wild. Last year when  temperatures reached 30 below zero babygirl decided to adopt Brianna and move inside. Today she is gifting us with beautiful babes!  Hope this link below shows off our newest pride and joy!

that blows a breath of hope
through the hottest day
that  stagnant dry beating down skin
on fire day in June
where your hair's on fire
in the shade
and  the earth exhales
like a thirsty
panting frothy mouthed dog
on the edge of a mirage
that keeps getting farther away
with every step
the pavement waves at you
in sine waves viewing
the road recede into distants
that lead to colder times
in pasts
or futures
I hope
but then that breeze
unexpected gushes up your shirt
or skirt
and  brings a gust
of relief
and all are filled
with hope again

I'm not her owner
Not her master.
I'm her friend.
I protect her.
Make sure she has water
Food and all the love she deserves. She has no collar.
She's never been chained.
She turned up one day
Friendly and trained.
It amazed me
what kind of human
put her out.
I thank them every day.
You could tell by her sad eyes
She was like me
All alone.
Fast we fell in love
And I walk anywhere
She's at my heel.
Does it on her own
I never trained her.
People say she's just a dog.
Not to me.
She's my friend
She protects me
She loves me
I can see it in her eyes.
That we
are the same.
Just, I got
less hair.

fifty-nine years
  a month and two days
     seven hours
          and twenty-nine
              seconds
it
took

Here I am world.

I don't care anymore
              what you think.

if she could be a tree ag'in
never seen a balsa growin'
don't know about light wood

I am more acquainted
with the hardwood species
and as I speak

There in the woods, a balsa
tree floats off into the atmosphere
so light

loud goers on
outside the realm
of my inner peace
bespeak
of things like
the inane ramblings
of who is *******
who new or the bizarre
guy dribbling tobacco juice
who cant get
in or out his truck
without help
trolling the women
here offering sums of money
not big enough yet
to make them ever
take their ******* off
and cause
the old man to seize
or stroke out
and ******* his Depends
after swallering
his chawed leaf
but I in my wisdom
sit here
on the far side of never
where I care about ducks
more than ***** and cats
more than ***** and dog
only a word here or there
trying to project
the future
like a savant or seer
going nowhere
they ever been
not better
or even more
less for it
backspace a lot
on all my forecasts
and learn.

But I got this plot of land
Out in the field
Under the weeping willow,
Figure since I spent
A good piece
Of my life
Under those limbs,
It'd be a good place.
I saw a lot
There, under that tree,
How the sun
Comes and goes.
Thought it'd be a good
Enough place,
Perhaps,
To spend
Eternity

Red rose cheeks
As the night approaches.
The moon prepares the stellar
Table for the feast as her lover
Sun retires after his
long day's work.
And high into the night
Her glow
Watches his keep
With anticipation.
The hours are infinite
As the world turns
Below.
Her patience spins around
The globe.
she gathers
Lovers souls to
Be immortalized
In eternity
Place them in the sky
Like diamond rings.
She knows how it
Feels to love,
But,
Be so far, so far
out of
Reach.

I can't see  the forest
For the beaches
Or the sand for the mountains or the valley for the meadow
Or the particulars for
The details.

But, once in a while,
On a fair day
I can smell the breeze
Off the beach
Through the meadow
Flow over the valley
To the forest at the edge

Of the mountains shadow.
Under the fairest blue
straining
To gorge my senses
With
that scented view.

Today is a really good day for me.
I'm stunned  by the sun.
Almost magic is the ambiance of the air.
The sun glowing for me alone.distant is too far
To decipher in the way
Eyes that feel do.
And the smell so fresh
I breathe in and hold.
I hear bird chirps and limbs
Of trees dance
On tall hilltops.

When. You made your mind up.
And got up the guts
To live honorably
Gave up all that game ****.
Forgot all about
Who cares or don't
Anymore
And lived for real.
Its like the sky opened.
That **** dam burst
And the water washed
You clean.
On the white *******
Down the stream
I'm now king
Of all I do
Now.
And that's
All I care.

the yin and the yang
eternal fires
all of the desires of a human being
when still living
is the challenge
blessed be
the stars and why
the planets moons
and other celestial bodies
cause the poet to wax
and wane

in the lawn just looking
a day the sky was blue
mostly cloudless
as I sat on the stoop
smoking a PallMall
around noon
it was
I happened to notice
in the midst of the green grass
hiding maybe
was a tiny clover
smaller than a blade of grass
a miniature of the normal
variety
I studied it and thought
how many things
have I missed
in this world

socks and shoes sweaters lace
finest trousers heavenly grace
dressed to the nine
going out feeling high
nigh the looks
they are their disgrace
envying my graceful mate
her on my arm
the ultimate date
and how I parade her by those
eyes that turn their heads
looking with hate
and how I bring her
home to rest
in heavenly sleep
and purest love
I will not brag about the best
we do at dawn
I keep that for her
and her alone

anyways, a craftsman never says, he
polishes out the rough spots and
burnishes the scars, like a man does.
Sharpening his knife on his
leg polishing until
his eyes burn
calming
his wife and offspring
stronger than hardened steel.
A man on a wire is
sturdy  
glowing like thunder
in any storm.
The force of man
creative is
even more
powerful
higher more
the peak of true
love, because
he is kind.

when I view the sky
a puffy cloud a blue
so nice I see
your smile

in the sun in the middle
of the day or the moon
at the middle of night
I notice your
silhouette

when I contemplate the heavens
peace I feel your arms around me
when I smile I feel your love
and holiness
I am all
I will ever be

because
of you.

philosopher
poet  necromancer
I be

always something
on my mind
rest

is something I get
passing out
the best of me

is left in my dreams

starsinwindows
well one
sharing the frame with a crescent moon
and  
walls that separate my soul
from heat or cold or knowledge daily
air condition me
electrify my conscience with a box of
dot images
usually the view in the window I
never have paid attention to
until the large truck ran up the telephone pole down the street
I never noticed all those wires over me, also,
until they are down all over like spiderwebs
didn't pay attention to how many trucks go through here
but now there's like four hundred backed up all the way to the horizon
to the county line by the river
and the river is swelling threatening to crest her banks
I'm noticing now so many things now that
my internet and tv are off. How and why
have I not seen before?
And questioning
what I thought was important.

then there was
      all the life sounds the babbling
             brooks
winds in tall
          trees on the
             mountaintops
calms of the
            puffiest white clouds draping
                  my head
roars of wildness in the
             distance proclaiming
                    our freedom
a softness in the air
               her pretty voice
                    saying Hi There
nature is just that surprising
            so out of nowhere
                     comes surprising
vistas of horizons fair eyed
             wild animals close
                      trouts jumping
to say I am here

and natures'
             most beautiful creature
                      woman

saying out of her upturned mouth
           I love
                 you.

Surpasses all of our
             human systems
                  rewards.

August the day,
for every leaf
either saluted
or waved,

that sun was purer,
the sky new
rather pure
concave,

mirrored, with
distant reflections
of youth's
innocence,

petulant dreams,
haughty ambitions
of a spoiled
upbringing,

as the lone,
riderless stallion
paraded proud
down Main.

some conjectural nonsense on a day
where she is working late
and I'm listening to her playlist
since we are, I mean I'm nearly positive
I am, therefore,
there can be no zero,
I got to looking at mathematical
conundrums, why?
your guess is good as mine.
What is 0 divided by zero, the question
pondered.
I looked through all the differing opinions and listening
to a favorite love song of ours,
recalling in all the detail
our fantastic times together,
the meals together, no one else
around a snuggle on the couch watching Netflix,
(where every movie has Morgan Freeman in it)
the calm contentment of nothing else
to prove nothing left to need, I had
her here,
and some argued 0/0
was one others said it was
undefinable a few said it was infinity,
and before I knew it,
It was seven o'clock and she was going home,
texted me that.
And I played real quick
a song we danced to way back when
last year, November it was
and I had her in my arms for real.


And,
I decided....there ain't no zero.

deftly I wrang them
my own two hands to best an adversary
I fought for years that was way bigger
more strategic then me but,
had one weakness, it was inside me,
and so I put those hands together
and crafted wisely a way to wring out ***** laundry,
twist the bad's arm
snap the chicken's neck, yes,

it does flop around a bit refusing to die,
in death throes it jumps to the fence down it around headless, no sense in that, but,
things,
even addictions refuse to die.
The poverty of a country existence
helped. Unless I wanted to sling **** there was really little work.
And the economic driver here is corn fields and **** heads the rich farmers have grown.
I don't get into staying awake walking up and down the street for weeks looking like death with his baggy eyes sans the scythe.
Hearing machine gun fire in my ears.

I used myself to get high. My hidden weaknesses. A hit of crack and a beer some ***** had me hiding from it.
I got away. Now with these hands, I am going to make a life for someone I want to spend the rest of my life loving.
I will with these hands build us a castle a small piece of paradise.
Our own heaven on earth.
And there, I will, with these hands hold and protect her and love her forever. In our small castle, that with these two hands, built.

oh victory
vivacious as a dandelion dispersed
on wind
air flight far wide high
as wings fly as words sing as minds think
high    get high buzz like a bee
flitter free to and fro
nothing compares   to this
to thy   to my free mind
free to fly and find
soft buttercups in the field a new day a new way
once a closed academy taught to decay
now the nature of a stream flowing
let it be
let me be
I care no more about archaic truisms or static
ways of looking I open
my eyes free trip on fantasims I fear not the
new idealism where truth is peace love and holiness
under these skies I see bluer than ever and newer and more virginal
more loving peaceful a sky
that glows for all
one day I thought of it
just why the **** not love
why strife why fight lets' love all night in the day
all days every night.
I love.
I'm not afraid of love.

voices manner and off the dock waves splatter
on the beach that night
two steps more we'd have been in love
but we spoke in patterns
waves slow ebbing flows
moon tide growth and glowing embers
stepping close then flowing  back
the night tide growth the
humid strife
we never met
or spent our time
together on these ancient rhymes.
But, in a scent, a moment meant
a drama of a moon crescent,
we'd tried to touch like mariners
the sea and all her
frothy crests.

just a pea
were I was
just
once I had a falcon
for a friend it landed on my hand
and hunted mices
far near more far for
he flew away one day
and I saw him yesterday free
flying on the blue of a
sky and a cloud happy
and I knew
he was good and clear and crystal and
where falcons were meant to flew
to the wee I stated with I felt wee then and
few times have I
been in the state of mind to know wee
or fair off in cloudy distance on a falcon's wings
insisting I loved him so

and you go like around nothing acting upon
momentum and the impetus
the maximum speed just slightly this side of the light
gravity-less atmosphere the better to drag your
*** through the after day physical retch
the warp speed drag
a day without bounds tends to make you stretch
left bottom lip hanging right eyelid droop
afraid to look
in the mirror above the transporter porcelain full of puke
that's how this space-time warps
a twentieth century dude
now alive breathing all this twenty-first century
technological slime
hiding away in an eighteenth-century agrarian community where
half the people are ****** I think,
maybe not, just they got bald patches and long crooked noses and big arms on skinny tall torsos
look like human ancestors in a way, they know everybody,
clusters of them in two bedroom houses and relatives with tattoos of
names under their glossy dead eyes hair that stands up on end
blossoming smells.
But, hey, I'm one them now. Losing my integral data on a strata set
confused.

data
all arranged collimated
in neat rows columns
speading sheets all laid out
on rooftops with SOS
written in red paint calling hecilopters
help us it says
water is good unless it inundates
and is ***** with sewage and the government flies by
looking but doesn't do it
before it ends there are accountants
adding tallies costs against lost lives on
a white sheet a
gamma line
going steadily up to the right corner
of a clean paper sheet maybe a posterboard for added
emphasis
etchy red line exponentially  rising up up away
in that line are lives against costs the government
sitting on markers
red crayons calculators
basing missions against costs like lives are expendable
how much can we spend for a bunch of creoles or  ****** in New Orleans,
someday white folks you gonna be the minority.
I'm
red
I'll rate in the minority
no matter what.

I want to be the alm the faithful glorier
a day in a mind that keeps center about
a truth memory a kept kiss secret
in days of pink sky seances and
the solemn remembrances that people
cry for sob
break bread for have
tea in dresses best dress
around fine china,
though I never had any,
altered states where I might find fine
the silken robes those kings adjust
as they eye me suspicious
for I aim to change away
the blood rights judiciary
and make plain
pollen eye-watering.

Some things are just better left
unsaid.

Appreciation amid glorious people
They sound speak resound
Fantastically
Ah and we are just as they say
In the grand sphere
Of poetic masterpieces  just
Amateurs
When if you read much
Feel
HP poets are masterpieces
Writhing psalms odes
Songs and heartfelt
Artworks daily
As poets are defined by effort
Heart and good designs
I know no place
Other where all these
Parts exist in better people.
I am often lack in
Saying or plussing or recognizing
This very fact.
HP poets are the best.

It faired off cloudy came a dry drizzle
I heard that once
Don't know why
It stuck with me.

If i could
I'd bake you a heart
shaped cheesecake with strawberries,
I'd buy you a hundred roses.
I'd be by your side today
and celebrate your birth
with kisses and pearl necklaces
musical boxes
adorned with diamonds.
I'd take you in my arms
like I wish I could.
And never let you go.

Happy Birthday, my love,
my dearest.
Blow out those candles now,
and wish what I am.

I love you.