it is a wonderful world
out there somewhere
where brethren plead
for love and peace again
and woodstock rises it's head above
Manson
where corporate greed
individualism
can be not replaced
but added to by societal caring
where the
farmers have enough to share
the workers are well rewarded
the banks feel empathy
and government is us
where the times have changed Bob
to where no one among us not the poorest
goes without
where the wealthy
keep their
mansions
porches and yachts
their mar-a-lagos
but have hearts , too.
In any swing a long way one way
comes the other way around eventually
and I see
from this hard right way up narcissismic and me
pendulum
a hard swing back to peace signs
a rebound in flower covered
VW buses and
sit-ins
and flowers
in guns.

down the mountains from the clouds from eye corners onto cheeks to riverbeds to the seas oceans feeding life renewing dry grounds fish nip
trees reach out roots people dip their toes in
watch in awe the powers of listen to her calmness
build dams to claim
in the end the flow has her aim
a strength a magnetism of beauty and death power
over our tears the gardens our vegetables energized
and a life down her gravity is taken not  
ever feeling killed
much like breath flows
the power of nature is

The fluidity
with which you speak of leaving
the allowance i feel for feeling
i am at once disbelieving and disavowed
I beg,
but did I mean for your return
I sit alone
and see complex perplexity...
I know it must be love.

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

bird, on chirping winds, fly on violin like strings strung from heaven
raise thy wings as instruments thy voice  as fluted angel breath,
strum your breast absolute, play the wind wood , pause midair, flutter,
into the air my feathers, go soft then beat and beat the air your wings a drum a conscience, an oboe deep, a music follows you,
soft
into the woods.

hard is trying to make  pillows
of river rocks and hard concrete
abutments fo' covers
and drinking the ***** river down stream
of the corn crops and cotton
quenching thirst
in the available,
like ten zillion
camels trooped through
your mouth,

and who knows anymore
the runoff
might soften the eggs
again
and I may be
extinct
unlike the eagle who
got lucky.

to the softest clouds floating
the whitest greyest beings
like I
who look down in reverence

at those pillowed truths
a dream remembering
their beginnings
their everything

try just trying on
to say in the righteousness
of man's limited vocabulary

one thing that echoes
through the last rays
the first of suns
glistening

as much
as bright as blindingly
magnificent

though impossible
much like the draw
of the bridge

the pull of gravity
we don't understand
but strive

to put on paper
I am your
follower

often there is an echo
to what happens now
foreshadows cast a long darkness
the pause palls gives one a hint
the mercury in the bulb
goes higher when
and we ignore defy look away
no  the instruments
can't be trusted  
this time
as our plane circles a spiral we feel
the same as level minds
and crash headlong
the river rushes by
feet get wet
the trees on the shore bent downstream
a precedent
but we go on in definite
ignorance a human thing
that evolutionary flaw  of
near-sightedness a myopic
kaleidoscopic happy thing turned back to make us
colored like fools
in "fake news"

trim and finishing
   the paintwork will reveal no matter how spackled
if the planning and footings aren't square.

custom  millwork and artsy craft
   do not hide the lack of deft blueprints
and engineering

Correctly spacing the 2 by Fours and !/4 Rounds
   without plumbing  and building on solid ground
leave many a stair to be climbed

Upper floors are where it's at when we are designing our houses.
  If a temple or an apartment, a plan,
is our solid foundation.

illumined in the sun
    of a weaving winding
road,
      gravelly,
grinding feet, so worn,
             souls tough from
a step at the time, on,
                 as it goes on winding.
The ditch,
      filled with bones, dead seeds,
call to the wind, blowing down
this weaving,
                    winding road.
I see the
dead end growing.

forage through
my carrots polish my tomato
smile as you suggestively
swallow the banana
devour all the
sour cream
on the red hot long
burrito
gulp the vanilla
ice cream
smile shyly
when I get a taste of pie.

of the true knowing that which blooms alone
blown to where who knows at the wind's mercy
find one day set down covered in solemn
grace  an outpost  by  four winds urgency
to seek the sun breed a new destiny
own this given land take it as thy own
for the very being of all thirsty

creatures plants animals: all those knowing.

it's great centerfield defense
and a shortstop that hits for average and power
flamethrowers that can strike out Thor
and a smart decisive strong armed catcher
it's the world series
it becomes the showcase of the best two
and the showdown
like it used to be
in the middle of the street
now a diamond
still dusty
and long awaited for
by both cities:
may the best team win!

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.

Capitulating the fact yon the masses
Are understood to be
More sluggish
Than cold molasses
Absolutely the rich ones that
Control
Equity foretell
Quite the thundering
Throng. Of indelicate be headings this ship sails on
If the course is not changed.
Quickly .
Anon.
Such a considerate conglomeration of riches
Not been. Scenes told nor
Tales since the turn of two
Centuries haste.
Consider.
Our nation got greater
With not a caste of rich making
Decisions but a healthy
Working class. Unless
We wake up there won't be any
Consumers only outcasts starving
Walking dead. Perhaps that
Was why that show was
So popular.
It foretold?
But, that show
Was about dead brought back and
The one I predict will be
About starving living ones
Trying to take a
Bit of pride bread
And soul back
From the greedy
Clasps
Of the
One percent.

I whisper I do
I am screaming
in lowest tones
i see you
as my ode
my greatest poem
written.

I and you
We are
in earthly orbits
seeing the atmosphere
revolving
together.

There, up to where
we belong, we soar.
No justice yet have I
been. No Knight, no moon.

No day nor night have I
Yet lived up to what
my debt is.
I am forever
grateful.

I will be yours forever.

she said , then slammed the door behind her.
I called the next day, texted, no answer,
she might have been serious this time.
I began to worry. Like everybody anger and passion
takes hold of me and I say things I later regret,
I drove by her trailer , hourly for the next week.
Then I met Vicki by the bananas in the grocery.
We made a fruit salad, as a way to get to know each other.
I forgot forever, **** I can't remember her name.
Nor her number.

forever goes whether we know it if we
breathe or don't it goes
like a donkey
in a cart slow
or fast speeds on  highways
in  Ferrari's or on the lawn with
our kid's
or looking back at pictures
or boiling water,
if we don't look at it
while it happens.

we are devilish sparrows flitting
anon, currant fruits upon a limb-
talons curl grasp the worlds
ovaries and testicles
in delightful spurts
of esplanade;
an umbilical cord remains
after mama chews in two
the veins,
in vesical exuberance
we splay
and **** and hew
the sweet fruits flesh the
mane
the same as our
tree trunks do.
Cantilever on a shelf
ripen
weave a poem ourself
make cream and wetness
come into the silver eyes of lust,
it is all so normal now
the cow(brown cow)
forever
masticates
white forever now

Ten years after or
ten minutes late
for my own funeral
and my wake;
ten too soons ago
and one sun too late
and ten to be a'comin'
and ten more
in a row I live
not ten seconds before
anticipating
or ten seconds afters
regret....
Just now and then
and ten more;
just like that.

again, just about to arrive
I got all involved in my feelings
my thoughts
forgot all about her needs
forgot her eyes
forgot she asked me to bring
home a gallon of milk
just driving ten thousand miles a minute
on this velvet wet highway
the stick shift revving
her up to only a hundred
so when I skidded in to
the driveway
I kissed her
like right in the garage
the kids heard my tires screech loudly
and then her shrieking
as she pulled my hair and
held my head tighter
they knocked on the door
but I said shuuushhh!
darling,
she busted out
laughing...

having to comment on the *******
who find faults like there
is a reward for it
while smoking a doobie
drinking a corona
watching a sun set
on a beach
in heaven
forget them

before the last breath I ask am I forgivable?
I in strength forgave those who laughed
i in weak times spat in their face
I was formidable in me.
I saw beauty, I played the recess with melody,
i forsook those who loved me. I gave, at
times what I did not have, I shared tears and cried and felt.
I carried those who could not walk.
Then, they carried me.
I fell down, got up. I went down to the valleys,
up  the hills,
played when I should have been working.
Lost I was most of life. I never lied down.
I had red in my veins, given by destiny, terrors at night,
visions. Deciding was hard, to be me.
I share with you my inner self
honestly.
.

In deep sleep forget
fall into
remembers
shimmer in repose
somehow see the known
like a minaret mimicking
a place
of prayer
a parakeet saying what
excavates our ministries
until a foundation is reached
a truth
build then upon the prayers.
Build then
a truth.

it is down that road
a deed was done
a necklace wove
a  young man

on that bridge
young lover's
met and kissed

a call
to him at point
of gun
from his love
her fifteen

and since seven
years old
this chain around
her neck

was wove
in his head
the three
casings

that culled
his young lust
and hers
now hung about

her neck,
given by her dad,
in jealous rage
on a forgotten
bridge.

A young man
of sixteen,
was killed.

I 've company here
under the weeping willow
the lone lovebug  with two wings
a sterile bunny
a jack-o-lantern dark and haunting
we sit in
unison
in one for all we sing
a woeful song
and forlornly
gaze into
the starless
sky
formally dressed
in shirt and tie
the pumpkin
just sits naked  
staring

I survive by creativity
in lack of I might as well sell shoes
or be a manager at Wally World.
In it I tame the wild
beasts conquer the mundane
I sing upon this blank skin
like Vivaldi

on one day
the blackbird
got chased from the
Camellia tree
outside my window's ledge
by a Bluejay
then lo and behold a
Red-crested woodpecker appeared
on a limb near and they both whistled
then
a mockingbird joined in and
a hummingbird fluttered
where my eyes kept darting
from one to the next to another
and the blackbird
sat on a Pecan in the yard
muttering
it sounded heaven to the clouds which parted
and a dove landed on my shoulder
cooed
as the sun came shining brightly in that window
the tree filled up
sounded like an orchestra
a group of violins
and a sudden drop of rain fell
unto my shoulder then
and the clouds burst forth
and the flowers begged
for more
I didn't need a rainbow
had all I needed
then
and I opened every window I could find
everywhere
soft trills sounded
peace and wings
on-air and violins
on ears and
choruses
sung like I had made it for once
to nirvana
where the tears
cleanse

for every flower likes a stem

poetry is diverse with ******* symbolism

the tree stands tall aglow in the mists

oysters and beer make me see them

cloying metaphors for

a good squeaky bed spring

what do I say in them

those times when silence makes

a stranger sound

seems to rise above the going and coming

silence pierces the grasping ears with reality

a crescendo of

Oh god!

wake, my love
fear not for it is I
to be with mine entwined passion
on earth in heaven
let us pose
in this brief instant
on the pedestal
of Eden's gate and peer
into creation
forever and ever
the pearlescence
the shimmering future
a hand held a gaze
a passion unlike any
ever made
for such a day
I fight the clouds  the skies black
away
I mount the steed white chase all evil
from our bounty
our pure love
like crystals flowing from the tallest mount
our destiny our creed
I cry
out loud!

on the breeze on the wind on the gusts
from hell or heaven or nature
we don't know the origins not sure
which way to turn into whose arms or
under which limb of what tree to seek shelter
then, a flash courses that says to us to me,
grab the nearest branch and hold so tight,
pretend it is your family tree, while the wind blows
for sure,

times I forget to tell you how much
I love you.

the day gone which way and that
I anticipate
a respite
and get
ten million chores and not much thanks
but
at the end I sleep
quite well
for two hours
then begin again
for what
for the day I get to see you

all alone I hear a crowd
feel whispered things
ancestors Tall
calming the seasons
In the woods, I listen deep
to the worn path the moss on trees
the wind
the grass laying down
in a field I pay attention
to the ghosts of maidens deeds
teepees once held their
papoose and warmth
in a wild America
as they skinned deer
made life  worshipped
nature sung danced
before
before
before
progress butted in
somewhere there they are
if just in my worshipping
my forefathers
the scared women holding tight their young
as progress
slaughtered them
and I chill
a tear is unnecessary
I sing
sing as loud as
I possibly can
for them

certain signposts came signaling
long along the pauses we came unto
they came in songs
voices
singing for us
our deepest feelings
our hopes
made our dreams seem less lonely
our blues less blue
our skin less burnt
by all the sun shining
our tunes less off key our heros sang
for us

was the day beautifully shined
the worth  of streaks white on blue skies
fairness and breezes cool on bare skins
in middles where all go sometime
soft grass pine needles birds singing
to our harmony, chirps
of crickets soft murmurs as ecstasy rises in us ,
nature love
what is destined for all
to be
is ours, us.

Miss, you who knows who you are
who kindles me talks to me about all.
the girl I have known longer,
the one who speaks my language,
the one I search for when I am all
tangled up,
needing you
to untie the knots,
the one I can say anything to,
the girl who says all the right things,
figures out the nuances with digital
precision and analyses,
rights my path
corrects my worries,
I hope I do
half as much for
you.

i wear my true
skin aloud
I feel comfortable
naked
I feel beautiful
this is true
love.

It won't be found
    on Google Maps,
nor in the constant
   tippity taps,

or in the boom
   of bass filled rap
or text of *******
   and genitals

lost in technology
   as such
lost in society
   is much

of what we
  truly search and seek,
and that only
  need- is human touch.

why it gets more solemn around ten at night
the busy people are not around, how
so many different reasons and sights
get roiled around turned over upside now
turned over and studied like squirmy things
by a botanist in a lab or in
my brain dissected like a lab rat prone
flat on my back my tail taut my ears
droop, right then, take a specimen and find
to find it all is how the time is then
too early or late or  impossible

none reads
I feel like I have been jilted
by my dreams
like finding my best girl with
oh hell, I won't go there.
I get so downright  frustrated
now since , ( her name was Jezebel,
his was Anthony,)
I drifted again...
now I get frustrated
when Hello Poetry goes down,
just reminds me of finding
Anthony with a big smile,
Jezebell on her knees...******

My three daughters and I
Spot, Blue and sweet Timex,
live within the walls
of this Verona like  apartment,
Missy, the Black Lab who played nursemaid
to these three I believe, aided and abetted
sweet Timex's foray.
I, a Capulet, truly love my daughters
but easily fly into rages,
wishing a fair and providing man for them,
not the hell of the Montague clan,
namely bighead. Bighead roams the streets the alleys the back woods
no earnings or propriety,
no means to his unmatted fur,
his wild houls in the night, testament.
The nurse then, on a late night, asked to go out.
I tired, got complacent and out timex flied!
She returned a week later,
not the young kitten, playful,
but a Cat, with hunger in her eyes.
Spot and Blue, still are eager to discover the outsides,
Probably filled in on all that is there,
by Timex. And she no longer plays.
She even meows different now,
seems to meow
O Bighead, wherefore art thou Bighead!

Gots.
We.
We gots
Like lots beautiful souls here mixed in with lots
are .
Bunches.
    High
        Troubled
             everything's.
Put on a cleft
Gonna be drawn out
Lots
Low ******* lower notes
Some fast fingered high
With sharp c
A few flat e
And a passe
In the mid
        .
        .
Rumble soft.

Half note high flute
           --

Tap snare drum where there a second later the orchestra begins all loud clamor building an immense rise you don't think it can get louder but it dies and roaring comes

Startling silence.
Amen.

Love is free
       lust is entirely, Not.
Ask any thing hanging
      how many dollars are
spent, flushed down a toilet?
    Only, to get a gal
down on her knees.
    Ask the ego
if all that money spent
    helped anything.

some have their reality
their biases their preconceptions
and I was once a fool
who convinced himself
of certainties
when it came calm and the thunder
a sky blue    
screamed to me
from
the sides
the hidden
inside flowers
and the puffy clouds
sang a chorus
and the flat ground I hovered over saw
that it was round
and on the other side this sphere
I used my power
to consider
my concepts metamorphised
and  up was no more certain
and I opened  
the Bible the Tao
and rearranged
the priorities
of my fears
closed my arms around a vision
hugged and no more feared
my ego having
to be perfect
i sang with
animals among the clouds
just wandering free
and clear
I am barefoot now

hiding away un-understood
in a closet dark, under hood
myself hating
afraid to face myself
or any other,
"have I done me any good?"

let no other tale, tell this wicked tale
never truth, issues from another lip
all is couched much hidden,
the further the mouth from what
is said, there is exemplor,
the love of hate.

that then a witness of a sweet word meant
from master, is always a command to slaves,
never free never solved
ever to strive for freedom, for
liberty.

I'm so antivax maskless, I'm petitioning the courts to remove my polio and smallpox, diphtheria and whooping cough, and measles Vax from my *** immediately.

I want to be free of serums, free
to enjoy paralysis, coughs and fevers like God made me.

****  my glasses are fogged up.
Wait a minute.

Freedom is an ignominious thing

bonds are gravitational
see my eternal soul
as bound then for
no
not one thing or being
not all the gold on earth
has my spirit. Gold has luster,
diamonds brilliance, foes
have a gun to my head. Wolves bite
my heels as I run through these
cementitious realms, forever,
is not here,
tomorrow may I breathe
the fire of desire sacrificing
here, now.

the heat freezes
bearings seize heating up
until frozen
un-movable
against all
the wrong gets
un-bearable
then I shut down
go off far
away where gravity
and hopelessness
and physics
where energy is
no more hot.
Stop it all.
freeze time,
suspend gravity.
float back,
eventually?
cool down,
back to
Earth.

never a doubt my preference
for dreaming of a muse before paying the rent
or walking along the river and seeing
the nymphs I dream of playfully naked singing
a tune
instead of going to work
again
hiding in the bushes to watch
birds coo
or climbing the highest tree
to view an ocean in the middle of Alabama
I make up
several  mermaids populate this sea
along with serpents
vitriolic pirates sailing away to rob the
scalliwag English
in the Pub about midnight after visiting regions
of my mind
I take sense and remember last time
I had my last pint
too early,
Friday was a scant paycheck, so...