eighth
month halo
of heat searing seeming
like it will never cease burning sun
riveting my sweat dripping to my forehead
delicious
devious
out of
the
shadows
burning!!

under a well-
   contented sky of blue lashes
dreamy
I felt so fortunate, so, full
   to be granted the
opportunity
     to behold the beauty of all this
virtue,
so,
I felt a Goddess, had thought of me
reserved,
this place for me, to see,
so,
I bowed down,
and gave thanks,
clapped
earnestly,
cried
reproducing the
roar of thunder.
I cry out
un- ending
Joy.

How has the inevitable
Changes in the atmosphere
Affected you, my dear?
Did you watch in frozen fear
As the loud mortars crashed so near
Or think insanity has won the day,  give up the fight and fade away?
Or has the barometer of your opinion
became a beacon for touching time
Like sages of another rhyme when,
Known became a wing of air,
A tree limb on a barren oak,
A slowly cascading mountain peak, the haze of foggy bitter tears?
There once came by the now dry creek
A beauty lass with a smiling cheek
A breath of fresh a curl of new a hope to all who viewed her innocence
rare for years we thought her there.
But that must have been a smile thought just a scent of remembrance there one called her name in somnolence, and it echoes still,
her  name was whispered meaningful,
A heart, a tear,
A sentiment

she wore that dress
to the dance
that black tight one

that's the one I
swept her off her
feet in

she swayed in front
of my shadow
with another

the music so loud
they didn't hear me
yell *******

at the top of my lungs
the lounges
still full

emptied when
I busted a 45
in the roof

she smiled
and kept dancing
alone on the floor

the stupidest woman
and the bravest
I ever saw

so I went out
bowed grabbed her hand
then swat  busted in

the tempest of passion
had drowned me again
'tween her dimples

when in time I go
unwarily
I wish to only
remember
the glint I saw
oh a merry day
looking back at me
from the daydream eyes
tender breast
I dream
upon
as
the
world
spins
dizzy

Deductive:
  I.  Poems are beautiful.
  II. This is a poem.
  III. This is beautiful.

Inductive:
  I. Poems are all beautiful.
  II. This is a poem?
  III. I am not sure if this is a poem or beautiful.

is your hair
fair is not nature
she in her nebulous
taking
   in food
    for
       hungry
          animals
kills

you in your beauty too,
  shaking
       no your head
           no you
              said

breaks
into Mother Natures cruelty
her war chest of pain and suffering

bumblebee sting

deep inside
where butterflies
                wither
                          die
                               float to
                                     brown

dirt.

If I were  painted a long time ago
in say Renaissance times, two dimensions,
I might be a saint-
or a revolutionary-
I was stroked
of harsh defiant bold colors
when portraits were cast in canvas
bronze overtones of gesso and black only
washes of contrast
the tone built up
with layers of translucence
and bone colored washes
and hung on a wall and try though I might
the egg tempera
earth tones deeper than
olive oil on a live model
wore off
and  the canvas warped
the wood grew skewed
and the museum had me
cremated
along side
a dog and scattered in the
woods
just as I had hoped

I could have died
    was what I thought
after the EMTs restarted
     my heart
removed my foot
       from my mouth
once more shot
      my *** full of adrenaline.

I recall remembering
    you walking in
I thought you looked
    directly at me,
I gulped my martini
    down and last thing
I recall was falling down.

i think it was the vision
of you or maybe my
fear of stunning beauty
or possibly the olive
was obstructing my windpipe.
All I recall is,
I fell for you.

you sent a message to me then disappeared into the vaguest distance
I sat scratching my newly found bald spot because it itched, then
All my hair came down into my eyes, thought I might need a trim
but my head glistened shimmering in the moonlight standing
looking over a hill for you, to appear. My shoulders covered
with fragments of black hair once there, on my skull cap
now laying all over my keyboard, making a nice tapestry
of black on black, ASCII

waterfall, into an outcropping
slapping me down, drowning
after flowing so calm in the upper courses
of a journey,
whirling, pooling away,
the bedrock,
eroding
with forces kinetic, eddying,
as if a fleck of earth
I am swept under.
Going down, bobbling back up,
just me,
along for a ride.

When I moved away down to Billups creek
a tributary flowing into the Mississippi
and saw unmown wild fields of golden grass
tall trees everywhere
and  the dawn on a horizon
for the first time
saw country girls as
wild fillies,
oats and hay as fun
blue jeans
and got my first buzz with a knot
of 'bacco
I came along real quick
got the slang down tight in seventh grade
and my four-wheel drive pickup
at seventeen
got used to no rock stations
on the radio
just
adapted
to
ridin' country roads
and BBQ
and sassy lasses
and extended family's
and time spent
outside
and golden
fields of nature's
bounty

the sun is
brighter
down south
for a ****
Yankee

silenty
    she turns the
       darkest night
into a cloudless day

quiet
     into a parade

and seconds
     into the hours
        I count

until I bathe
      in her
          breathlessness

the day came rude
all still the same as the night but bright
crust awaitin to get knocked off
the stain of the dark
jumped in the shower brushed me  teef
and still had that lingering smell
you get in your *** when you just think of you
that bad feeling that you get when you
just dont want to get up and face anything
but you do
no dial or crest or eyewash can knock it off
so,
you go through the motions
promise never more
until you get home that night
and after two beers
or a hit a pill
a shot a  ***** a snoot
you forget all that
and go right back
to last night
**** on
tomorrow

worn tongues against sharp teeth I  began
as did you with innocence a pacifier
a breath
inborn wisdom
truth perfect youth naked
whispering
into the breast
grew up with what we thought were taught
sins
felt the rippling like
the bubbles of a river
condemning us  drowned
as worthless
bubbled to the top gasping for
hope peace
as did the communions
where
life is spared in dying gasps
peace on earth is shared
with a  death
I found bitter tastes
remain
spit them out onto you.

In what has become the daily
tallying of the sum
adding plusses
minuses divided by suns
a kept total
of souls
rung like molecules
none ever created
or spoiled,
is infinitely the same
- a quantum state-
where measuring
becomes the result
and the quotient.

backlit by acute rays awakening
dew clothed petals, like lovers lips sated
whisperings to the gentle kissed breaths,
  proper, dance the light shines proud
unafraid of the trees rigid

  jealous concealed in long lonely shadows
watching her stem aware, but uncaring,
  knowing her dance natural, the forest
the golden sky the wisp of cloud the trees animals
Mother Nature herself

glances , envying her beauty her freedom
  to feel to live ripe flowered healthy, loved by
crisp breezes and warming arms of goldeness,
  bravely standing naked in morning glory.

a clear creek trickles
a dead limb reaches towards heaven
questions sparkle
like mirrors
upon a barren limb
as the process of life continues
cold
         and thoroughly numb
                             as                   breath               returns
as the breeze
      picks up cadence
                                     again
   and comes my way one more leaf.
and one more
                                        Sun.

Life leaps sometimes far from here
into brutazl realitiesx
of resons i dare not seee
desxtinies of ub=nivertses
wshaere shred redalitise are ubdersyood
and kirttebs cute and innocents are brutally tpook
cruelly
mama sits trying to nurse the dead
teh dead cannot be nursed

searching the vast darkness for one star to grasp
grasp make it fall to me
so I might hold one  once

Instead of endlessly counting mapping,mapping
calling them names seeing things
in their patterns

Aquarians, Big dippers, lions ,Leos, Scorpios,
Scorpions their tail ready to strike,
lighting the black with
figurines.

Figuring, that there is a pattern in all this meaningless,
meaning contrasts, revealing patterns, I
I only, see. That,
I I need to catch one.

Put it in my jar of hope, like I did with fireflies,
all those years ago and many dark skies,
skies, I scattered to and fro,
naming,

them. as they tried
tried to escape my
insanity.

An old time clock
with a weight swaying
to and fro, a pendulum
I think they are called?

Side to side
or an old wind up pocketwatch,
that won't wind anymore,
or a tie clip from your Dad's
collection.

You look at it in the old cigar box
it's been carefully put away when
his aftershave seems to fill the air,
and you recall Momma hugging him?

Now you only have no ties to use
a tie clip for.
And a clock in the corner and
one in your cigar box,
not ticking,
anymore.

My peasant like oratory
my non- elloquence
my lack of sense
or expanse of non(sense)
can easily be explained
if but given the chance
a second to explain.
A long time ago
in a land far away
with flowers and
Dylan and Far Out
  substances
like, it was cool
   and so groovy,
free love and food
   it all was a changin'
rainbows , VW's all were colored,
   the only colors we seen,
Mlk, Jfk, gave
   their  life as I woulda
but was too young
so flashback
with me?

Let me peep in
Stick my nose up
Your crack
See whether it's her his or him
Cause I'm a Patriot
Gotta protect whataboutism and
Tax cuts, glory to he who made this country free,
Worried more about business
what Goes on behind doors
Closed than how children eat or
are clothed

more
Interested in Disney than government
And my constituents becoming commies giving one cent to the poor
When all the big corps need tax breaks, you know as is common sense

Let's impeach someone with no proof hoping it increases the odds or better yet ignore the sins of big oranges
2 billion son-in-law got from the Saudis

Why try to improve lives, not about it, when so much grift and enticement we can foster by kissing the rich ***.
It's easier, Cause we aren't the party of religion....we subvert it.  Use it for profit.

Like the old white confederate. We lose but don't die. Gonna keep on keeping on oppressing until you wake up

silently......
she turns
the darkest night
into a
cloudless day

quiet into a
parade
and seconds..... into the hours
I wait

'til.... I bathe in her breathlessness

Lost
what never was mine

A happy lover once was full of life
full

so fooled my eyes gazed on another
here, too

I thought
was heavenly sent, gifts i deserved

to get,
carressing without a thought softest thighs

my eyes saw near
my pecker was omniscient,

a kid
loose in a candy store grabbing whatever

until
I looked back and saw all my loves

giving me the finger.

I would text the devil
I might invite him here
to heaven,
I might
ask
why we split, dude?

Invite him to a Nirvanna
concert,
let him peruse my CD collection.

Ask him what he thinks
of Breakfast at Tiffany's,

or where he gets all those
coals to burn souls
and his long ears.

Then I might pull out an
apple split it in half
and say go for it.

a place in the past resting quiet
never forgotten
immortal immobile
glowing brightly
through all the years
through smiles and tears
now, through wrinkles
chapped lips
hurting knees
broken dreams
all seems
so innocently
perfect.
But, that I am looking
back, through
rose colored glasses.

a furry friend a comfortable paws
so soft the memories remain
a ***** cat or two legged variety
with green eyes begging we
****** up ignoring
and forgot to pet
them,
taking for granted our
furry friends.

I choke at funerals
get drunk hide way back in the last pew
afraid to look the dead
in their state

I quit going when my daughter died
I just couldn't face it
I hope she understands

And I don't want any
memorial
no tears or casket

just grind me into the dust
of which I was made

run for President
of the United States,
But,
Trump has me beat
for being
an *******.

round a
corner
through
the dark of a forest's canopy
almost to the edge
of the boundary
you'll see it
at the turn of the river
it sets a glow
a turn of eye
you can't miss
follow
the sunburst in
the clouded sky
it will show you
where
fairies and urchins dwell
in peace
and tiny things good grow
gonna take  over the earth one day
this small place will
and make the world glow

i is small and breathless
to wit when gazing at sunsets
or a tiny reflection in those green eyes
may cause a lapse in
correct english that glance may
pause my second favorite *****
from beating
I get a lot more short
or longer more
off key poetically
and gasp breath holding
when you hold me.

might the depth of underlayments
surpass the weight of what I weigh
and hold  me while I float and give
I the particle
boards be sufficient OSB be
a true foundation
with the patched seams a veneer
above the under cores
enough to hold unless it is braced and sturdy
well engineered
thought out thoroughly a felt
under hardwoods is utterly a fail-safe
finish useless
as I
see.
A gimmick.

I've only imagined where I'd go were the skies to open up
Magical, and time to be metered
Only in metrical or musical
Timbre what bassoon might be heard when and if
Flutes bass drums human voices
Joined into that chorus of
Nature resounding unheard
On the distance in the forests
On sunrises in flowers
In the eyes of the forlorn
The starving bellies
Of the deserts
In that mass of culled voices
Written on papers buried
In libraries in educated
***** on leather desks in the
Remotest abscesses where the hurt cannot reach or on
Wool carpets decorated
Florals instead of the marvels God
Sent created made us in
Oh I cry loud
I cry at top of my lungs ability
Wake me up
Cry cry
Sound out
Poets
Those with more than
My abilities.
The time is
Now.

Can be sat upon a pedestal
make him a marble
date his birth
marriage, if so,
children sired, mom and dads,
slab of marble, it takes
a chisel, a backhoe, however
many mourners, a white or black  hearse
a viewing. Manyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, dollars,
untallied flowers, all so gayyyyyyyyy.
I want to have mine todayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.
Then die,
20 years nigh,
and
become anonymous.

my most treasured memory, next to the day
she said yes, and my back seat got wet,
next to the day junior popped his
little bald head out squealing slithery
from her nether region.
Next to the day she said I do
to me, dressed in that flowered dress
we spent all the money we had
from JC Penney 's bargain bin,
next to the day Junior bagged a Buck
at the age of seven with a cheap bow and arrow
I gave him cause it would not shoot straight,
right there next to Thanksgiving
fifty years later we all gathered round the table
her and junior and me, and
the buck I finally shot
yesterday.

if you are afraid to be a one man band
you must be afraid of life and eternity
when the orchestra and the choir stops
it is all up to you
you have to sing proud loud and resonant
sing that song you can
no one is gonna sing along with you
in the end
close your eyes
and sing loud
cry out

A bag in the attic, a shed tear?
Writing your dead mother?
witnessing a miracle? Forging through despite the thistles,
or cruising on a relatives legacy?
Drowning in a desert, making your fortune?
Raising a child to be like you or teaching
them justice?
Is hammering your head against the wall,
is that all? Or slitting your wrists
the gist? Cutting your hair, belong to the newest fad,
driving a BMW? Bad?
You hear the whispers, feel a touch on your cheek,
hold one another, help the weak?
Pet a dog, rescue a lost frog , feed a duck,
nurture nature, help one another.
Or make yourself whole, which ever way
shows you truly belong to the human race.

What may be the consequence
to evil deeds and disrespect
When one starts out on the wrong path'
and sees but does not change

And who will in the end
embrace your ego's need
and self-respect, you lack
in your indulgence.

But, who am I?
But, who shall say?
One day the truth will be
self-evident.

We will neither lose nor win
as I live my life in confidence
and you in needy resonance
I wish I could fulfill.

on a gust of cold you turn a shoulder
a mist of breezes comes upon your fairest eyes,
my word becomes a burden upon,
thy order all arranged, your grown taller,
if I no longer measure up, nor
eternal summer no longer is,
my red is crimson,
in beautiful golden dusks of orbs
once set for me. A fire dims glows but
dies knowing; I will stand and breathe
remember what I had, I promise,
to never brag nor dread for
I have memories..

repossess whatever I have
I wake up in ***** sheets
take my diary
i have committed it to memory
take my last penny
farthing
take my last bluebird
or kitten and we
got a problem
take my license to drive my identity
I give a **** like
touch my queen
or my Missy
we gonna go around
take my last beer and I would wish you well
my last cigarette oh well
touch anything
I care about though
make my muse cry
or take too long ahead of me
in the checkout line
yeah we got troubles

always remember me smiling
my corny jokes
my eyes twinkling
my desires, Peace

remember me as one might
a summer breeze
a flower bud
a blade of grass, proud

a sated satyr a statue posed
next to a corn stalk
next to a sunflower
smiling forever, wild

the sun over a mountaintop
peeking glowing
a small piece of a seed
in the wind, blowing

his crust barely rose
and the filling tasted like Geritol
the oven was rusty
the fork was dusty
the spoon broke while stirring
cherries preserved
in the closet since 1976

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

stay in style substance
the formatted displays of high society
for a day
then get gritty get down
get ***** where most of the world
lives
where the entrails
meet the nitty gritty
and leave the counting of syllables
silly when you take a look
at it, the anapest is a spondee
of silliness
**** all that
poetry I claim for
the common man
now rules and laws are
but to keep us out
**** all you arrogant mfs
you can **** my assonance

well, poetry begins by suspending reason,

unnaming and renaming everything ,

taking apart the small parts and making one big metaphor.

calling a flower your lover,

or pain as a roses thorn,

a smile as the sun,

a frown as a crescent moon,

and of course stars ,

they have to be included,

as sparkling,

butterflies are forbidden in modern poems,

as are roses, to which I alluded,

my bad , though,

I see poetry as anything

you feel deep enough to

try to write a poem about

and makes you feel

shall I compare thee to burning hay?
thou art more highly and more plenty.
rough tokes do shake the buds of August, and summer's shake has all too long to wait.
sometimes too hot the high of heaven shines,
And often is the gold reflection dimmed;
And every hair from fair bud does decline,
By chance, or nature's changing course, undimmed;
But thy eternal sizzle shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that buzz thou ow'st,
Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in a daze,
When in eternal times to fine thou grow'st,
      So long as men can breathe, or eyes get red,
      So long lives this, the smoke do smell like burning hay.

I remember sunday called by girl's names
then saturday and her dreams
the false impressions I came to believe
sat on burning bushes
made wine of water
imagined
heavens overflow
on a count of three
there I sat beside the brook divining
contemplating
playing blind man's bluff
as the ripples
resided
ebbed
the flow went round
the count got all the way up to
ten
i was asleep
and then awake
listened
to the water
the ebb and flow
the countenance
of the dead
and living saints
and heard only
a blank nothingness

how daydreaming has such a bad rep
how being a clerk
is somehow degrading,
how light as predicted is bent
by the sun's displacing the time-space fabric

it only came about through a student
who could not get a job a failure predicted
by professors and academicians , a patent office
job , quite the easy thing, all
the time in the world to explore riding a beam

comparing time , only with a brain cell,
to the speed of light, with only thought
spitting the apple out splitting the atom,
proving his professors right,
he did not fit, that is why E = mc squared

and photons bend in the warped fabric
of time and space , he closed his eyes and daydreamed,
let more of us do that.
But let us close eyes to envision
man riding peace, love

to where this world now , most of us,
scoff at, profess such a dream is unreal,
remember, it was but over a century ago,
Einstein was proven, to be a genius
after so many said he was a failure.

There are so many daydreams, so much
undiscovered. I consider myself a skepticist,
unless I believe there is more to all this.

if written if I thought before typing this might make some sense anyways I have drifted from my purpose and forgot why I started this but to save the essence I go on meandering without a theme and does that make my day without sun or my meaning any more interesting like I have any cares when daily struggles are so near and death and loss are so much more poetic than anything I could possibly dream up so I go on streams of some poet said a long time ago about thought thinking better when like he planned his stream like outlined his whole thing he wrote all of a sudden.