I see you
floating on impressions of lily pads
framed by me painted by Monet.
Up close i get dizzy.
Far off I see expressionistically, Van Gogh's "Starry nights".
In the reflecting I see,
A picasso.
In my real life, I see you, as
Leonardo must have,
with that most beautiful smile.
My, Mona Lisa.

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.

nor very cool to feel for every ***** or beggar or
low-life
there are just a multitude of them to cry over

it doesn't pay me a ******* cent
walking to town to watch the whorish
wave down traffic

angry is a bit of what I gnaw on
the gum of **** that makes me gag
almost or puke or wanna ****

any mother who allows their child,
yes we all, even the low cast out **** bottom
basement ******* for a dime ****** ***** got one

lets her child become this , **** her  **** yes
******* the *******,
******* the dripping *****

that walked away tucking their ***** of brains
back into their shorts onto the streets , oh what hustlers what
cruel ******* idiots

even them, even those ***** donor dead souls,
it is too much to feel for,
etc....

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?

when the trees call staring down
       ask me what reason I am
walking alone among the pine cones
         dead brown
oak leaves laid about
          barefoot walk a path
that no one ever takes
          I go on walking listening
to them the trees
          they are older and strong
stronger than the asphalt
            where I have to shoe myself
to walk on
            going and listening
to nothing but cars
          loud shrieking brakes
and crashing
         I answer by walking right up to that tree
and kissing her or him
      hard to tell with a tree
right on its bark,
          sit near her or him and whisper
back,
          my reason should be clear
to one older and stronger.

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

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.

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.

was a girl that
made big entrances
homecoming queen
from America
a cell phone
found somewhere
loaded with texts
on a dark night in
September.
from the gyst of
it she seemed to just wanna have
a good time, a hit of crack a
nose full of **** a dime of ******.
Got in with the wrong crowd the
wrong things.
Ended up all alone.
nowhere.

ok, to be serious for just a minute,
is to cook anywhere defined as microwave
science? Is boiling water and adding Ramen noodles
and putting the spice thing in , after opening it, haha,
I knew what you thought there,  the beginnings of a bachelor chef,
or must I learn all the de rigour
of nutritional knowledge and buy a garlic press
along with those eight dollar fry pans
at Dollar General?
Just wondering.

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...

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!!!!

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

I have a higher shelf a pinacle that
seems empty , barren,
one made of mahogany over the ones
holding copies of Shelley, now unbound,
stocked with mementos and keepsakes
made of pine but servicable
upholding my precious things
carefully sturdy ,
to the left , a tad dusty, leaning on the
copy of Michelangelo's David bookend,
is  "In Search of Lost Time" gathering,
well, dust , now,
next to, with my fingerprints
outlining the title ,
on a timeworn cover, leans,
"Tom Sawyer" ; I can see a cane pole
figuratively jutting out from
the shelf. Above on the second shelf from the top
sits a rock, just a plain river worn smooth
everyday rock, that to anyone else would be
nothing, but, to me it is more precious than gold of the same size.
I collect special things.
And the top mahogany shelf
is empty
reserved for only vivid
memories
of
Grandma  
of that girl long ago
of when my children arrived on this earth
of a smile
from all the women I have known
also, although, invisible
only worthy for that shiny shelf are the hearts and souls
of the best people ever.
And when you visit, think again, about an
ordinary smooth rock,
and an empty mahogany
shelf.
A rock or an empty shelf
can be more
than it seems.

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

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.

In a principled mind,
which formed speculatively at best,
on cognition and dreams,
desires and subliminal manifestations
of life's energies,
I stumbled upon
and repetively focused on the unpleasant
aspect my mind seemed to be,
of somehow this
other me, like a curtain over a window to
my entirety. I was mostly here on this side of
the thick veil, or was I? There was more , I was certain.
More to me.
I found art the desire to create
at odds with my desires to self destruct.
I ran around the mural slashing
as I colored the sky the most
appealing blues.
I spoke of peace while killing a lamb for dinner.
I slid under death one way or another
one day and caught the other me
saying , I meet you again-
At Last.

A pen fences me in
and bleak my days in iron cages
I did always seek
to fill the blank page
to escape my den
i live within:
a tool to keep me
gate closed
where I did  search the key
to the greenest description
saw a  wise
freedom:
I seek to write now
with invisible inks,
of old faded fables
closed in drawers in dusky tables
a blank
page.

of hymn sings melodies harmonics to me
here of all of us
into the dreaming visions of peace
i see, i sing,
out of tune with reality, whatever,
stealing the words, of perhaps,
Ritchie Valens, or the Doors or Who sings
urgency of now like smashing things , pumpkins
guitars , drum solos sets Martin Luther King,
Gandhi, The pope or the Catholic reigns or Jewish straining
the Muslim urgency the forever
strains in nature the beat of streams or trees growing or earthquakes
volcanoes, JFK the sad sight of his death, or MLK on a balcony,
or a stray forgotten lad shot down at 16.
I sing with them , have much hope when I hear,
the females     high and males    baritone
create beauty, so love.

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.

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

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.

trill highest those
of lowest shrill
call mighty from
the lowest crawl
cry loudest
those who are shy
for tenderness
those among the horde
those souls
who bear a world of blows
going on however
they find a way knowing
someday
it's all going to go their way
or just gave up
hoping for
one day
to come along

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 moment
we met in the park
our kites gliding close
flirting with tangling together
our laughing smiles
taut strings between us
the sky
our kites flitting higher then ever
before now our eyes meeting
anticipation
blue sky bright sun
smiling east to west
north and south
our new kites
soft breeze then
we kissed

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.

Cranberry juice is not meant
as a topical medicament
for the treatment of private part itches,
I found out when I confided to
this girl online
that I had this serious itching
predicament
in places I didn't want to mention out-loud,
I told her how I had tried
Preparation H, Lamisil,
baby powder, Cortisone ointment,
Eucerin, and even Calamine lotion,
she said I probably had
a yeast infection, that
men can get them,
and her having the usual equipment
that tends to get this type of malady more frequent,
I took her suggestion of one glass a day
of cranberry juice.
Poured one glass over the offending itchy parts
before my shower each day.
When I told her her remedy was not doing anything but staining my privates, I heard her laughing, she dropped offline for ten minutes.
My face turned red when she finally came back and said laughing,
"I meant to drink it!"

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

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.

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.

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

somewhere in momma's apron
for apple pie made out of ritz crackers
no apples
seen but tasty

In Daddy's calm
and North Mid- west accent
that make
an Akron born

transplanted seed
down south , in Alabama
so at
home here

ask whenever
someone asks me, where
i came
from , I

say, a little bit
of Vincennes some strong
Buckeye
who back

then reached
into momma's apron
pulled out
my recipe

I have drawn portraits
charcoals  of Saints
who stayed in one plane
for 200 hours, not moving a hair.

I built a castle, over a hill,
which one I forget.
I have painted oils,
landscaped with smiley faces,
they might look as if they have boils.

I have written, specious, meaning one thing saying another,
poems and probably will do again.
I have laid with Mona Lisa naked,
her perfect breath breathed
into my head.

I have chased Dragons, had a princess by her long hair,
her breast a white snowy her mouth the pinkest gasp.
I have stood taller and fallen farther.
I would, gladly,
do it all again.

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-

Sunshine sprouts
           sky dreams
irrepressibly carefree...

floated flutterbys
          whippoorwills sang
on equitable vistas evergreen

and...I believed!
          I had seen!

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

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!

I sent a leg UPS to
my mom
she needed one
she been all gimpy
for twenty years now
sent my brother
my *******
my dead dad
a hallejuah
my son a missive via
twitter
he aint responded,
my ex her alimony
check written
on rubber ,
a used one,
called my girl
she was busy again-
she aint got a job but
sure stays busy-
my dealer ,
I sent a Christmas card
birthday card
called him on our anniversary,
he was my best man
at my wedding,
we borrowed his
Porsche
for our honeymoon,
hope he don't know what we did
with his gear shift,
I sent the IRS
an IOU
again.

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 .

is yellow in spring like grass starved of sun
summer brown as the sun burns so hot and long
green just reaching her ripe full breath in autumn
white in the cold of winter all covered up
clear on a cool night clear as peppermint
hot and moist at mid-summer hotter than hades
at moments, refreshed like a breeze off
the coldwater brisk in December
eternal as a kiss from a loving mother
smothering yet comforting no
matter her temperament
loving as a new puppy's bad breath
like yellow ochre on a palette awaiting a cheek
to add some color needed,
or alizarin the crimson of a wind blown fell leaf

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

Grandma's dress at the end was a sling around her
left leg and arm attached to a rope
and pulley we thought, or I did at five, was fun
to pull on
her exercise
she couldn't talk
but made expressive grunts to garner my mom's attention
when she saw me doing wrong
going into a room I shouldn't have
she was all there except
for verbalizing and being one sided
I liked to cuddle with her  
I still see it all

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.

where a dollar separates you from being broke
or rued some fellar' stealin' your broad.
down the blue collar road in the land
of Alabam' ?

ever been a shill for a thief or the cuckolded
ole stooge standin' in the wake of the love
hurricane?

Ever noticed another man's woman?
Or tried to pet his dog when he was gone?
Stole a glance at some beauty,
way outside your reach?

Been immobile no phone or
wherewithal wet breeches and droopy
jowled, alone in Mobile?

But the skies are so blue,
the song said it true.
Down in Alabam'

A boy inside an old man
rides a coaster rolling
heart and old bones
partitioned jointly
mutually delusive
                 a young squire
unlearned boastful
                 ancient philosopher
cobwebbed naivete
revolutionary
a Freudian absurdity.

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.

ode to Mabel

Mabel is breathing....
    no one ever visits.
She has tended flowers and done laundry all
    life for others.
No one needs her.
    She has a bad knee and
Neuropathy , subsists now on pain medication and sugars.
    No one calls her.
She envisions one day getting flowers.
    Or hearing again from that gentleman, who
twenty years ago smiled.
    Or her children or grand young ens';
but no one writes her one letter.
     In the cold she wears all those sweaters she knitted.
no one remembers her.  I will!
    I visit and bring the flowers I grew specially
for her,
    the prettiest yellow roses,
while she lives!

I have found the beauty
you propounded
your wisdom in choosing me

Heart melded perhaps
with wisdom
self with empathy

it took ages and
was not an easy path
to send me on

you , my muses ,
must have seen something
in my being

in my me, far off , you
saw future , predicted
where I might become

a mere human
striving for a muse or inspiration
among so many.

I am heartened
by the thought of you
inspiring

so many more