Dear sir, the tomato soup of society,
where
sordid vegetables remain
in
your gains, all used refuse garbage
now
that your desires are realized.
Or but a spoon to shovel in
your **** and gag retch it all up to no use.
Die n gutters singing
god bless.

everything I see
is not always harmony
is off key
at times
I guess he may judge me
an idiot or be a true savior

and see me as a human creation with weaknesses
partly his fault and he gave to me dark to
highlight my strengths.

next to a pine back nestled close
alone in the wild of the forest
feeling the straw and cones as my pillow
I hear the songs of my forefathers
haunting in the whistles of the limbs
the breeze
a calming song close to being a prayerful
hymn on the wind singing me off to a rest a
sleep a long nap a day's end a peace
and that rhythm
that winds through the needles on a course almost
a siren's breath
that sings beautiful
hymns a song on
a withered bark
a cry from
the forest's floor a
harmony I've known before
breathless i went
graceful
a warrior

My birth, when I was dying
came in the brightest sun the darkest night
the heaven of hell
the shell of a ghost
cool comfort
leaves blowing ashes
the day I was
then
remembered
so much shorter
when
death
came
and made me again.
me and my ashes.

asdarknessclosesinaroundsensesandallseemsclusterfucked
thosewhodr­eamseesomethingelse
tendtomakeanewcreation

this time is the other time
that which I left
on the backside of her
hanging
like a neon sign saying
come here
as i walked away
not really certain
but the rage made me
just walk away
I asked myself
am I sure
as I sipped again
the bitter sweet
bourbon

Missy her ******* lab ***
loves my couch and her ten puppies
like to try and **** my toes,
as I sit on my stool.  I guess they see four legs and little ******
shapes wiggling.
My two mama cats love up higher, away from
all the activity running round yipping , yapping.
They like my keyboard, and the top of the bar,
the cupboard tops when they get
all antsy.  And all of them like
the refrigerator door opening. I go to get
a beer and 13 animals believe it's feeding time.

I like it when it gets quiet. And all every one of them is nestled somewhere, safe. Hell we all are
orphans, in reality.

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any–lifted from the no
of all nothing–human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

e.e. cummings
1894-1962

are the vowels and consonants
forming meanings  and precedents
or but moments remembered tender
of some long lost love
or a stronger sentiment more
profound, perhaps a lesson for
others to make a judgement
of our morals the existential bottom
of it or the granite forming some mountain
ranging vast differences of climates
of language and man made boundaries
gathered into molecules the skin of water
filling the land and seas
with individuals making
one day a whole
or a law or prophecy at least

tell me more of you
I think I know
your heart your soul
we have shared each other
all over Bookface and G+
shamelessly
tongue kissed
and grappled
like teenagers on a
dating site
with words and emoticons
little hearts
and lol's
now I think
we need to get closer
I thinkI could
make you trend
in real life,
doll

To sit in and dream
is why I built this thing
I made the cushions hard
so when i nod i wake
I made the legs strong
so when i am weak
i never will fall out.

to writhe a dreary tome unforgotten
play a  word one against the other
where once was love but never held
my head close enough to breast
of soft flesh near enough
to taste desire and
smell perfume her
essence in my soul
to feel a beating heart
to meld with another soul
bring my head up once to look
squarely in another's eyes then
feel my pulse rise rapidly my life
grown a reason to live more purposely.

add my name to that inner circle thing
where newsletters about the most heartfelt go
the e-mails and spam about
worthy people nearly saints
singing praises in God's name hand
out bread loaves
and fish

keep my name off charities
that claim for twenty five cents a day
you can adopt: a child in Africa; an elephant;
send books to the Nile River flooded
refugees; the latest Syrian gassed.

I get my kicks, sunshine,
above the waist, (**** i stole
hell outta that line)
and I lied about that too,
some my best kicks, etc.....

well, giving seems to be a
rich someone ******* in America
in a mansion. Send me , count me in,
when charities help some
*******.

I've been down out, seen ten million others
the same desperate way, ain't seen or heard
one thank the United Way

and kissing sunshine and butterflies
I can never go near but, I
pray you do , heartache sweet memory. tear of my cheeks , maid of my
dreams, I praise, in now
desert worlds glancing
between  kisses of oasis's visions
of what seems to be there,
but, isn 't.
When it is gone, make my stupid my mind to never
again see visions.
never go into
desserts again.
I may get fat.

just about now I heard
the wind music sing again her loathsome song
among the cloudy songs
saw the sky breath
and sea *******
the horizons
innocence
Just about when I thought
i might expect to hear it
so, I might be playing it myself
I have  been known to before,
play songs along the rim of existence
saturating with hope
the unknown
in that central thought in my central
heart soul
I always wandered
in my head along the rim the abyss
teetering
right before
falling in

which grasp
has hold entirety
depends
moody I am on
Beethoven
immensely beautiful
wandering amiss in his dreams
I feel voyeuristic
red faced caught
looking in the boudoir
glass at my sister
and her young lover
or among tall grass
with heavenly  harped angels
silent breeze clearing my forehead
on the shore
the birds whistle
soft the surge closes
on sand and makes love
with the sun glistening
rapture
and I blush again

beast soul or feast of toil
nave or gnome poet or saint
cave or sunlit mount or free cloud baring
the least rain the main
thing or an ant
an insignificant
bit of DNA that calms the sexually aggressive
the sinners of us saints
the devil's soul awaits those
among us pertinent
to survival so I sold
my wings to a sinner
fluttered down
and was landed upon
as a walking innocent
like I think of us all
called upon the earth cried out
forsaken is a hard boil
yes I am a boil
a sore upon the
hellsfire
a bane to those believed
tired never getting older
still not believing

my taffy is ******
    needin pullin
pregnant
    of 3 months of dull
lunches
    and  medicines runnin
in me brain
     then, you  came
into my room.
Nurse me Ratchett!
oh you so owe
me lunch!
  How's about some
Taffy!

big eyes wider than a full moon
or a plate of milk
instantly appearing to change
into white seas
of no boundaries or
moon cheese , take a bit of me
and savor the tang
the smell
the sharp knife cutting into smaller
bites
while the griddle makes fritters
in hot spattering oil
and we are hungry and thirsty
and bereft of
dandelion greens and turnips
or last night

with this new day came
with more oxygen and  brain
with more tingling
with more you

off the suns rays brightening
off your face lovely
off these eyes of mine
off into my mind

where lovely is
where it really is
where beautiful resides
where love sometimes shines

when it was fur farthered
ten millimeters longer
I gave me kiss a nibble
along your neck
it was soft nibbling
kitten kisses
and you came back like lava
hot as *** is
and was
supposed to be'

Trust me,
   I am weaker than
A lowly earthworm.
      By my belly
I ******
    Forward
       Squirm.
When the rains
    Pour down
          I come out
             On the sidewalk
                 And get stepped on.
My kin my destiny
     I lie smashed
            With under heel
                Under boot.
Do not cut me
     No I will only be two
             And die eventually
Wriggling  into minced agony
      Twice.

If I see a word hysterical should i laugh or pause and think
of historically used meanings?
Should I shy from Jew and say Semite, I exodus from meanings.
time is evident or sedimentary
grandeur, I leave it all to linguists, cleverer than I,
I change daily, accent
acquire meaning etymological like
Knight is a servant?
Lady a kneader, Lord a provider of bread?
And bread, It has new meanings, as does green, several.
Logos, is still what you hear, an example,
to justify, I apologize, for saying?

Next to an old lady wilting
           yellow tint
light tilting
           melting margarine
round chicken skin
           crusty rolls
burning, smoking
           Pall Mall's 'til
puking, pouring
           a jammed door
open squeaks
           hearing post-op
procedures proceeding
           as the death watch
intrudes
           intruding.

on the aged blinds, all dusty
filled corners of spiderwebs,
the dusky remembrances
sat a reign of yesterday's
fog filled eyes
the  bluish hue
random splotches
which glasses none
have a cure for
I recall her
her in glory
like it was yesterday
lithe
sweet as a sundrop
cool as a new wind
soft as the mellow song
whispering
cute
as a cub
new as the day was then

I am getting to the center
   the middle meanings
by reaching deep down
    seeking the riddles
poking through out the day and night
     fiddling that fiddle
digging a treasure up
      settling on melodies
a lil' off key from
        the civilizations  
accepted remedies,
           digging, however,
till I succeed.

I dreamed I
Saw fields of straw
Hallucinated the waves
Coming to me

I begged on
That little
Self inside me
To prove

His realness
And he said
I just am
And I

Answered
But the field was
Real to me all
Waving

Standing
Applauding
A festivity
Of me

And you are who
A homonculus
A being
Inside me
Have you

I questioned him
Myself me
My being
Mine ID

Have you
Little my
Senses of self
Monitor

My matriarchal
Patrician
Overseer
Have you

One too?
A little you
Inside you talk
To question

Go to in stress
For advice
And if so
Does he too?

On and and and and

Ononon
We went
Late


Into the night into day
I went

Back
To
The
Field

when Geritol and Advil
rule
a walker and ******
too

the age where arthur
is
right old
wore

so much out and Creaks
dry
run and fun is doing crosswords
like

lifting weights exercise is
lifting
a pencil to write.

to many classic , pop rock , songs
while I work away re-building
a wall or roof , it makes the day go faster,
I hammer while singing at the top of my lungs,
songs such as this ( I hate it when they change the lyrics without
informing me though):
Baking Carrot Biscuits by BTO;
Wipe in the Vaseline by the Eagles;
or my favorite Comfortably Dumb by Pink Floyd.
I only sing off key when the band forgets the lyrics
or I smash my thumb with my hammer
or the cute neighbor girl I am bare-chested trying to impress
calls the cops, or the owner wanting me to go away
with the job half finished pays me for the day.

sipping on my third
      cup of hot black coffee hoping
to take the edge off the four
       Tylenol w/codeine
I swallowed to take the edge
     off my broken hearts aching
and, my blue and black bruised ego
     I woke up to this morning

one poem more
before
i
go
on
from here:
A poem of me
her, of everyone
outspread arms
signifying accepting not afraid
but more her
with a soft body open arms softly embracing
taking me with no commerce in between, me and her softly
melting
and bigger yet all of this
I throb for
the homeless hungry wish someone was
spread open giving them , too, what
might make them whole significant,
then I feel needy, in need greedy, I can't share until I am
sated?
'til;
I take care of me. Then
will i feel empathy.

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

multi-physicality tight-assed blue jeans
cleavage like two headlights on an old
Cadillac smiling as if she swallowed
all the tequila in  Brazil
hips swaying left around right
into my dizzy thoughts
right there in my living room
I get my sway on
cowboyed booting kick over the
coffee table
swear ****** and she giggles
wiggles close closer still and
we dance vertical so good!
party, y'all!

than love itself
composed in blood
at first blush we know
tomorrow is ours.

farther than an eagle
can fly
in pursuing perfection
our love is painted
in mountains
and sky.

Deeper than any ocean
depth we can dive together,
we are the sun and moon and sea and shore
and any metaphor devised by any poet
for a love pair.

We shall write the next great
novel and beat Romeo and Juliet.
Noah had us a berth reserved,
among the lions and tiger pairs,
to drown their purring with
our sighs.

So, bring me from Ohio, to me, here alone in
Alabama, one sweet poem, to read forever and
hold next to my heart as I await
you next to me.

I write this  for an angel who
once was wingless
who thought all were innocent
who took me in
growing close as people do
lent me books and
gave me a shoulder
to cry upon
taught me innocence
was a goal
and love was  truly
forgiving
and unattached
to what you look like or where you've
been
who with unabashed
sincerity loved me
unconditionally
who on her death bed worried
for me.

then I tuned one day the body electric
of one reading of a phenomenal woman
partook a host of daffodils
where bad men seek forgiveness
after throwing vases against the walls
alone they are with nobody
alone frozen fields with snow
and broken wings
cry when solemn
will fails to help another carry on
with an ear lent to confiding
while walking decks exulting
and ringing bells
drinking ale , gagged his daughter
and bound her to the bed
remember nor recall day by day
darkness or the corruption lain
in one forgotten love or friend

I am always out there running
I leave it up to you to carry on
appreciating the sky you're under

circa ELO year unknown just remember

this word thing
this contraption of vowels and apostrophes
this similar
fashion of symbols
some, having danglies,
and some, Bold upper teasings
which when alone have no meaning
but in well grouped arrangements
make metaphors
or make new things
much like humans who
created them.

I enjoy the faintest touch
of my lips on your brow in the morn'
            Your angel sleeping face deserves
to know how I creep out tiptoe
              on my way to work
remembering in all my fiber
          all energized
last night, and the night before,
           and every moment since we met
nights and mornings
         and every
gentle kiss.

First, are you our sort of a person?
Do you wear
A glass eye, false teeth or a crutch,
A brace or a hook,
Rubber ******* or a rubber crotch,

Stitches to show something's missing? No, no? Then
How can we give you a thing?
Stop crying.
Open your hand.
Empty? Empty. Here is a hand

To fill it and willing
To bring teacups and roll away headaches
And do whatever you tell it.
Will you marry it?
It is guaranteed

To thumb shut your eyes at the end
And dissolve of sorrow.
We make new stock from the salt.
I notice you are stark naked.
How about this suit——

Black and stiff, but not a bad fit.
Will you marry it?
It is waterproof, shatterproof, proof
Against fire and bombs through the roof.
Believe me, they'll bury you in it.

Now your head, excuse me, is empty.
I have the ticket for that.
Come here, sweetie, out of the closet.
Well, what do you think of that?
Naked as paper to start

But in twenty-five years she'll be silver,
In fifty, gold.
A living doll, everywhere you look.
It can sew, it can cook,
It can talk, talk, talk.

It works, there is nothing wrong with it.
You have a hole, it's a poultice.
You have an eye, it's an image.
My boy, it's your last resort.
Will you marry it, marry it, marry it.

Sylvia Plath, "The Applicant" from The Collected Poems. Copyright © 2008 by Sylvia Plath.  Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
Source: The Collected Poems (Faber and Faber, 1989)
Related

This rain
Seems like
A million
Heartbreaks
Crashing
Down

We both still here, the storms have drowned us.
The droughts wilted, dried up our flowered words.
Look, between us, confidentially,
nothing will defeat us.
We both, continue lovin', never
stop laughin',
We care!
And , we both
are still here!

viscous downs clearly high
thoughts shared with an audience
of the other me

hasty short-termed  temporal passing
transitory words fly so quick as bats like flies
vermin winged here
then when i descend
from high come down land
next to a statue or painting
a poem falls next to me
a leaf
i find this urge to capture
every variation her veins color dryness
scent the tree stands so tall over me
glancing
deciding it seems
if my words are worthy
like a father defending his only daughter
from me
and I love her I swear to him
and I do
she is life to me
my all
she floated and fell and beautifully
on my shoulder landed
it was meant to be
I look up at all
the trees and all the leaves
and this one was  the one
for me

lying on my back on the porch under a fairy tale night sky
a three-quarter moon peaked and wove
through a filigree lace of lingering white
lighting the backdrop canvas of dark infinity
with a daylight blue
I started counting the stars
like my hopes they were
and got to infinity and
lost count of
the ones I counted twice
and it did not matter anymore

she is Jennifer Garner fine them perfect lips
and smile how she ain't somebody else's
******* I do not know

she is Marilyn Monroe on a subway grate
lifting her skirt and making me wait
******* she is everything

she has eyes, I know it's a cliche,
like Bette Davis and she knows it,
how she winks at me.

it is  a mystery,  god knows,
how I ever caught her eye,
and took her into my arms.

we forge swords  aside the dead we slay
charge the atmosphere deadly with gas of yesterday
forage on decay
We look heavenward blindly devoted to bigotry
we police with too soon deadly force
cut nature into Wall Street pavement
pay billionaires as we slap their mischeviousness
on their gold and diamond encrusted wrists,
the earth whorls madly onto the nightly news
scene.

a knot
a catch
a thread around
you
dangling
floundering
breathe halting
did
I ever
tell you
I
loved you,
so,
how did
it ever get
so bad?
Fell
from the chair
to never
say again,
I love you, too.
Oh God,
why?

In the depths
      of life's chaos
there is hope-
     a light of salvation
to pursue.

Joy,
     in a fleeting glimpse,
but a small moment
     of tender peace,

Calms
    the restless
          eternity.

wive's tales and home cures
for maladies like heart sickness
include burying the hair of the beloved
and toenail clippings under
the biggest oak tree under the full moon
with a dollar bill
and I found it too hard the dirt
under an oak and dug a hole
under a pecan tree
it came back to bite me in the nut
for she not only came back
to me but brought her mom and gramma
brother sister and grandad and her sister's two kids