to the north i try to follow
religiously
i still  mix east and west
dark with light
gets me into corners
comparing my compass
to others
shouts in my ear i wish it would when
I stray so far away
south

I stand convicted of emptiness.
I claim no pardon,  no accomplice,  no alibi.
I am executed slowly.

My Reason has judged me guilty:
of searching for love and finding hate;
of searching for peace and finding turmoil;
of searching for truth and finding lies;
of searching for comfort and finding pain.

I am condemned to the agonizing maze of crowded loneliness
rushing headlong into oblivion-
There will be no reprieve.

Time is my executioner-
he taunts me with fleeting ideas and hopeless hopes
as I crawl forward towards the noose,
haunted always by my destiny,
that dawns ever slowly.

Honey of the autumn moon
where in sweetest nectar
Flows
Golden on the ivy leaves
Through all of Eden's
Garden shows
A bud on stem
Reaching high
Content to wait among
vanilla stars  
And chocolate skys
In dew wet grass
Gazing a lover's eyes
A minted bath of
Sky ice cream
Looks like she
Must taste
Serene

the day I hated the world
I wanted to squeeze lemonade
out of sunshines' smiles
fill a rose colored glass
with **** positiveness pour
the saying win-win in the
******* toilet while flushing,
and regurgitating-
rip all the signs down advertising
merchandising commercializing
proselytizing -take Nancy Grace's
annoying know it all *** on
face to face and pull some ignorant *****
asscheeks over their ears, **** in
their neck-
rip all the sermons of every preacher
to pieces,
choke world leaders with
**** and peace while all the
broken threads of promises
on their watch haunted from
graves and holocausts and
mass killings and enslaved
blacks indians
whoever you don't like,  
the weak, gays liberals skinheads
Vietnam Vets
old people graying alone dogs
with rabies vampires of society drunks
****** lonely sub-culture types wearing no shoes
no hopes and no dreams buy because of you
, because of culture to be in, in the crowd
of popularity once like a Warhol prediction
getting their 15 minutes
at the aim of a politician policeman radical Islamic terrorist
or the freaking nut down the  street with an AR-15 and 100,000
reasons to go mad.

take off your coat, take off your hat
take off whatever, then sit
here close to me, closer.
tell me you love me,
take off that wig
now your teeth
Ohhhh, yes!
babe!

BLASTOFF!!!!

It sho is
   sun up Daleville, hick down home
sure do- want sum
   grits- white steam risin'
black joe (later, home-brew)
   walkin' (no bus) one-yellow-light
Army town unemployed
   sunny-side up eggs and grits!

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

and be wise
     brave to see
pause, in the *******
      her in the kitchen
doing dishes
         recall how she feeds
your children
         washes clothes
and smiles
and glows

be aware of all the time
     passion if love
is to be sublime
       extends to daily
chores

and take her by the hand
        out side the bedroom
and thank her

crowds can call out derisions
to the ceilings echo the wages
of minnows shored
tales of your innocence
brightly sparkle
as diamonds culled
from oysters shelled
a vessel floated calls her name
it has set sail
along a closer destination
from thy port
speak as the devil might and
claim the rightly port to hull
survey the wind oh August wind
a September dawns
and memories can fade like women
waving from a shore
I wish for you to make
a wave of congratulations
but you sent missives
to my mate
I set sail  a while ago
I float now
above any waves
the sea might try to sink
me into

right there between those apostrophes
dashes or commas
The symmetry of
openness inside
Two quotation marks
an ellipsis ...
awaiting for
a period to finish
right.

I recruit
the virgins
to fly
a plane into my head

I wrap myself     in TNT
and blow myself

no one else

There in Jerusalem, Iraq
I ran through all the scenes
in my head. Came up with
****** man

Violence is incorporated
into religion.
It ain't
the first
time.

au naturel no hormones nor seed
*******
nature made, me
no viagara no ddt,
definitely
no preservatives in,
no bionics or
genetic alteration
there is nothing
could make you as sick,
as my reflections.

when I turn my head and look at things
sideways
Consider the edge of light and dark
mathmatically an asymptote approaching
infinity vis a vis the starlight
I see on a clear night, so real and clearly now,
is the past, actually, someday when it crossed
milions of light years,
to be in my telescope,
The closest I can be to now,
is a memory when I percept it.
On a daylight, I think might,
my real no matter how fast or hard I try to
be in it,
is a past forever.

god her poetry is unmatched and her voice an angel


Chelsea Morningl  Joni Mitchell

Woke up, it was a Chelsea morning, and the first thing that I heard
Was a song outside my window, and the traffic wrote the words
It came a-reeling up like Christmas bells and rapping up like pipes and drums

Oh, won't you stay
We'll put on the day
And we'll wear it 'till the night comes

Woke up, it was a Chelsea morning, and the first thing that I saw
Was the sun through yellow curtains, and a rainbow on the wall
Blue, red, green and gold to welcome you, crimson crystal beads to beckon

Oh, won't you stay
We'll put on the day
There's a sun show every second

Now the curtain opens on a portrait of today
And the streets are paved with passersby
And pigeons fly
And papers lie
Waiting to blow away

Woke up, it was a Chelsea morning, and the first thing that I knew
There was milk and toast and honey and a bowl of oranges, too
And the sun poured in like butterscotch and stuck to all my senses
Oh, won't you stay
We'll put on the day
And we'll talk in present tenses

When the curtain closes and the rainbow runs away
I will bring you incense owls by night
By candlelight
By jewel-light
If only you will stay
Pretty baby, won't you
Wake up, it's a Chelsea morning

a table salt spilled next to the dead
warrior, a young ******, stands
frozen, over his limp body,
a garrison marched into
a vault stole every thing of any value,
left only, drips of terror
fallow cries whispers
dry lips horror
death,
from the reeking remains of
history, the teacher taught me,
about Germanic victories, Viking tales,
conquistadors.
There,
was where i remember,
this.

I write this letter to my ******
chaste poisonous version
wondering
if kissing is
confused
with love

I drop to my knees revising
poetically describing
somewhere
above me
transfused
in lust

three words
infinite syllables
metaphorically
might be more on the first night.

I analogize triangles to find a hypotenuse
of you on my graphs.

And trilogize developed from mystery
colors of you way more intense than what is
created with just primary colors.

I have you glowing like rainbows in my dreams.

Have a synonym of you in reality.

Like a diamond glow I have you as
cut perfect...
clarity of ecstasy...
color of love...

oxygen water and food or is that all
to make us living beings
I look into the skies often and question
the reasons we have
desires
and fascinations with fireworks
enjoy so much the arts
sigh when seeing a Monet
cry when listening to a sonata
make connections with a poem
strive so hard to describe creation
like comedies watch tragedies
make stories up
like Santa
have holidays and count our
time here
religions believe in more,
is the calendar
the clock
the heartbeat more
than  breathing
drinking
eating?

I will sing of her ankles, the sun and the mighty of earth.
I saw her bareness, there in the baths, a lovely vision dancing.
Then, the dark-clouded son of crocus
startled her.
Once he used to jump over measured ponds, saw the bidding
of King Porcupine, he himself aids violently says, You will live in
lymph nodes and he croaked, my neat-ankled
bather , my dear, jumped and ran away.

Walking through the woods looking at squirrels scurrying pine
cones falling through

We hear our silence broken crunching the violets growing wild
as a something falls,
though

neither us, nor furry blurring animals see, all flinch as a finch flies
away, alarmed squirrels scurry

our path weaving, gently deceiving tomorrow not seeing, focused
on the past, we scurry hurriedly on our path worrying
, do we possibly miss
today.

3- female threaded shutoffs for water supplies
1- Tub P-trap with nuts and ****** for 1 1/2 " DWV pipe
2- tubes white caulk
5-gallons nuetral wall paint
52 square yards carpet
1- white window blind
4-1/2' cpvc connectors
1- six pack Olde English 800
D- cell batteries for the tune maker
1 small bottle Ibuprofen
The Complete works of Shakespeare
and the time to get it all done.

i cool
don't even need air conditioning just
one or two real souls relating to me:
like my Queen , Vicki,
and Kenneth Irving MacPherson all I will
ever need to be .

There the lovers go as opposites the
yin the yang the brawn the beauty the strong
and willing , to where design and elegance
and genetics draws nigh on intellect, to sighs
and utter lust to strength, away to  enduring beauty
through luck patience forethought
plans give way to feelings,
day gives way to dark and shadow
to perfume and essences our brethren our ancestors
fell too, as all days do pass from reality into
dreams to parlaying second glances to quick gasp breaths
in gardens roses swaying whispering,
Yes.

There is no madness
Darker farther
Than the depths
Of losing a daughter
I sit now praying
Her soul is
In heaven
And everyday
Is peace and warmth
And how I mourn
Her memory
Study her every feature
And how I
Wish to be again
Her father
And kiss her forehead
Tell her I love her
But grace is fallow
And nature cruel
And bad things
Can happen I knew
But I was only
Thinking that
The very day
You skinned your
Knee biking
I never knew
I'd be forever
Cursed to dream
Without you

Love
           poem rhyme
with a sky blue
wondrous
                  white
puffy
glory

hues of day, yester-

mysticisms
                  arranged,
in brightest color
                     (alphabeticaly ordered)
which-

             man denies.

letters
of hopefulness-
                        arrange
right
         or wrong
                        in song
express,
the searing depths.

a lover's stare,
                or thy flowering
                               innocence.

From dawn,
         to dusk,
      nothing left out,
love-
         so calm
                       so eloquent-

tick tock
tock tikety
tee too
time so
tocks ticks
await you
your return
tock ticks
eye flash
hope you
o k
tock tick
await again
life so
tock tickety
long when
listening to
clicks clocks
tickety tocks
gears gnash
hourglass
sand sifts
seconds
hours
days years
tick tocks
alone
awaiting
you to
return
and still
I wait
for you
hear the
ticks tocks
anticipate
ticks tocks
cant sneak
up on me
as i sit
here awaiting
tick tock
click clock
count me
my life
as a
dream of
sand shift
ing down
the glassine
clear vision
ary dream
awaitin'
again
tic toc
to when
the beg
inning

into deja vu
  apercu into extreme
reality, meaning
  seeming so lifelike, prescient.

I have done something
   similar , before,
28 % of the time
    my origin story says.

a propos or aide-memoire
    like *** remembering
an anieu regime-
     au contraire, I say to me.
I am au courant,
     in we!

In conversations with
     my past and present,
my Indian and French,
      extremes, I see
I am au fuit,
      been pensaut
seeing, two ways,
      bon vivant,
being,
      a ****** tunes.

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.

just spit out the sides I awake
my mind peeking again
it seems
at ****** dreams, ***** words, non- innocent.
**** is always on the tip of my tongue.
Usually proceeded by Mother.
Very Oedipus.

in the midst of real life we scream our most desperate
              dreams
our
passions
    on white screens
penned
innocent
      symbolisms remain

and you and I
          look for rhythm within
our ups and downs
                       and you and I

lost like ships not knowing
the dark  the mornings

is there  any port
             like the white between
      innocent lines          
        
listen.

with nothing in my mind
I trek on trying to discover
misty mountains
or ten years lost
Kashmir lyrics
in the House of the Holy
In the Evening
where
All my love
lies

red pills in plastic
a little bitter

                      but fantastic
i am better
                       but still spastic
stupid still
                       reacting
just a little
                       more passive
a *******
                        on one red pill
is actually
                        better
than an *******
                        on ****
so I wash down one
                          with ale
ecstatic become
                            and feel
fantastic,
                           I wish.

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.

his name, is gone his body was
found in a silo
the ******* missing.
A corn cob stuck up his ***.
It took a posse of Sherriffs
and three nuns and one priest
to locate him.
There was no reward , no bounty for his missing finger.
I guess they figured it was gone to hell.
His soul lingered around
that silo for weeks, though,
a smell like chicken **** fertilizer
they spread down here in bamalama
and remember
don't flip a cop off, either.

bless the weakest those who feel the very souls
who suffer if far near unknown
bless those who speak in truths
whether or  not  it furthers their causes
bruises their hearts
takes that toll
bless the meek as the bible said
would inherit this earth
as prophecies spoken
mere worded phrases speak the god
talk the angels wing flutter upon
here
there are angels
there are demons
there is sufferings
and plagues
hardnesses seen how each being each
flowered ****
goes through these  stages
like our blindnesses
we feel how the hurts surround us
and few those gifted
those who deserve blessings
have this new sense this soul
that lifts the spirits of the eagles wings
to soar above the tallest
mountains and me
who tries so hard to suffer
self flaggelate and  shudder
harm myself when others need
take off now
trying to be winged
to be an angel
with time left to utter
a word
a prayer
a hope

hyper-ness evolving
in me, it's hard so hard to concentrate
distress of dancing feet
I feel like  jumping up now.
But, there is work to be done,
my nails need chewing and what about all the rest
I've left stewing that is needing doing?
My hair  is a mess. I look, oh hell.
I forgot to feed the cat, again.
She is meowing, it
kinda bothers me
but,
wait, oh my!
What was I saying

it is with with opulence i glitter
in this shell
only for you to split open
)
swallow(
spl it me ()  in two
******* and hot sauce burning
i will slither down
your throat
glistening

slinky smiling
succulently  as you find my pearl
insides.

Well I tried to make it sunday, but I got so **** depressed
That I set my sights on monday and I got myself undressed
I ain't ready for the altar but I do agree there's times
When a woman sure can be a friend of mine

Well, I keep on thinkin' 'bout you, sister golden hair surprise
And I just can't live without you, can't you see it in my eyes?
I been one poor correspondent, and I been too, too hard to find
But it doesn't mean you ain't been on my mind

Will you meet me in the middle, will you meet me in the air?
Will you love me just a little, just enough to show you care?
Well I tried to fake it, I don't mind sayin', I just can't make it

Well, I keep on thinkin' 'bout you, sister golden hair surprise
And I just can't live without you, can't you see it in my eyes?
Now I been one poor correspondent, and I been too, too hard to find
But it doesn't mean you ain't been on my mind

Will you meet me in the middle, will you meet me in the air?
Will you love me just a little, just enough to show you care?
Well I tried to fake it, I don't mind sayin', I just can't make it

Doo *** doo ***

Written by Gerry Beckley • Copyright © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc

today I have come full circle around
in perversity and  nuances
ask why if you are curious
my ****** thrills have been shown
too much on the internet
quickly finding
and watching so much
I got numb
I sought seeked sorted out some madness
in satisfactions
came up with one thing
that is hard to find
on google even when
incognito
I get a cheap thrill
knowing I am the only one
that gets off
on gnomes.
You can call me odd or off or
psychotic or deranged.
My neighbor who had ten
gnomes
and now five
calls me a thief.

Once
     I was a dunce but
In my head I had
       Arranged
This view of
       Me supreme superior
 In order
        To hide from being
Inferior.
      So deranged I was
I invented my purpose.
      Which was, to be honest,
A ploy to hide
        Myself in shadow.
And then I met the one
       Who sang my praise
Like I had done.
       I was amazed
She really believed
       In me. How numb
I felt to her touch
       Until I looked
Into her eyes.
        And knew.
She actually believed
      In me. Knew all
My secret peculiarities.
      But, she, my angel
From  above loved
       Me unconditionally.
And there I now know
      Because of her,
All of me
        Is all of her.

someone else's poem and it
knocks you offline for a while
all the thoughts you had wanted to say
a lot more precisely written

the dormant sound when breath is all but gone
cranial infarction electrical spark disconnects around
a bad analogy, and, I don't mean to spoil the fantasy
but,
corpuscle dystrophy rots my bulbous anatomy
'tween me ears swelled
synonymy or  antonymy
like psychology through buzzy eyes
often,
brings a symphony of cries,
I apologize!

Sunshine sprouts
           sky dreams
irrepressibly carefree...

floated flutterbys
          whippoorwills sang
on equitable vistas evergreen

and...I believed!
          I had seen!

misty haze awake the stars behind eyelids closed
asleep, you and I sleep...
and you and I are deep.

developing contrapuntal visions as you ride the wake
anon sounds deep sleep successively
around as entries echo repeat
astounding voice guide and ethereal choice
in three separate sections note

we awaken
the short main theme
the exposition is complete
and now we are as one.

Proud of the day
        with my dump of stuff
              facing fearlessly
Letting all
         of my things be seen
               answering
All of the questions
         truthfully nothing
                held back
all things remembering
         all the way
                through.
Like this.
      
proud of a day
      standing naked.

then on   the sand   walking together
barefeet  a step  whereever
we wanted to wander
hand in hand a shell
picked up
listened to
barely clothed
baked in the sun
quiet listening
to the waves crash
the shell echo
what a tender sweet summer
recall
you looked    then    at me
the sun behind you
my eyes glimpsed
eternity
as we walked
closer to the surf
hand
in hand

Imagining when she used to fill it
Up with dandelions and greens
Set it the middle of the dining room table she bought
Same old thrift store she got
The flower covered vase from
And the old yellowed tablecloth
And it was always filled
With whatever wildflower or **** she could pick
And it signified in a way
Our love and dedication
How though poor we were so rich
And I appreciated then.
The tablecloth is put up
The vase sits empty.
The yard is filled with dandelions
And blooming clover
Lush greens growing wild.
Just like my heart.

I have left one repartee one last sharp  mention
before the ball ends, and you go off dancing with him,
my fairest vision , my dearest memory, you did
not notice, my emotions were lost on thee, but
my presence happened to be quite in the moment,
and that is why, while you danced gaily,
I was in the garden with Prudence.

I am to know: her skill she poetically makes me see
come: to a point,
conspiratorial at times, but, aren't we all?
orphans?
In shells With heads hidden in?
She is destined: nature  knows
she has an ear no matter how
sometimes: I yell, she always comes back.
She is from hell : or a guide sent to save me?
She knows all the words: knows every dead poet.
She grows: on me, and in my head more every way
with each day, wonderful.
She is my Queen, my muse:
my today: Tomorrow.

A volt or amperage an ampule injected not grounded
a spasm or epiphany a reckoning
encompasses
I melt voltaically into
warmth and jolt
concurrently metered
by hair standing on ends
legs arms nethers
convulsing
like two phased
polarity
not grounded!
I short out,
positively!