Presence on the road
Headlight in observe
Destinations serve
Skillful hands of the Greyhound Bus Driver
Stretched out Hound dog trademark
Voice of the rolling maneuvering wheels
Onward and precise
Cutting through the times of fog
The Greyhound bus is more than a name and dog
A passenger’s friend
Enriching America within
The Greyhound bus showing the way
Travel in your getaway
Eye always on the road
Lean back and recline
We are all the Greyhound Bus timeline
Feel America up close and one’s dreams explored
Honor and privilege
The Greyhound bus leverage
Masterpiece and motor coach engineer
Each day a preserver
Sunrise to sunset always near
Symbolic
The Greyhound bus far and wide
Bus history with a provide
Travel with care
Eye on the people
Heartfelt love
The Greyhound bus like no other
The thought of a flying Dove
Vision and reflection
Precision
Everlasting approach
Yesterday’s inspiration
Tomorrow a reality
A Greyhound bus rolling in your way
Your chance and opportunity
The getaway

george collects baby doll heads

my guestion to george,

do you cut the baby doll heads
off the dolls?

You dreamt
You Awoke
But your slumber
Tumbled into the Deep
Ocean where your
Delusion soaked
In Brine.

The Molten Core of your
Ambition
Melts and steams in a
Brevity of Being.

Goodnight sweet Fantastic

Allow the gentle Waves to
Waft you ashore

Fear ***** at
my spine, like
a leech,
slimy and black.

The crowds
laugh and imitate
each other.
No creativity,
only brutality.
Little lemmings.
They get raises and
promotions,
accolades in bunches.

Killers of the
dodo and the redwood.

They smile over
tea and the
bones of dead men.

Perfect in
their machine like
minds; immune to death,
like the quest for power.

My mac has had one too many nervous breakdowns and is headed for the hospital this afternoon.  I expect to be without him for 2-3 days while they ream out all the boogey Men and Trojan Horses. I hope it doesn't take any longer. I'm uneasy when I'm away from HP. This is where all my dreams are safely stashed.  Please leave the light on for me.

This ****** Mac is still not working
I know there is an evil lurking
I took it to the Nerd-king’s shop
And told them to give it a pop
I picked it up this very morning
And they did not give me a warning
They said it now was working fine
Yet I can’t type a decent line
All the bugs are still a-bugging
So once again I’m back a-lugging
This thing to them for one more try
If they can’t fix it I will cry
And drown them all in floods of tears
And go to jail for 20 years.
So I’ll be here a day or two
And gone again a half week through
Thanks to those who wished me well
I love you more than words can tell.
Reminding you for one last time
To never say that I can’t rhyme.
ljm

My little brush with small dustpan
Is called a Table Crumber.
But I do not do fancy meals
That worry about bread crumbs

Instead it often sweeps behind
The Kitchen cupboard baseboards
For all the bits that fall that way
While I’m preparing dinner.

The standard broom is way too big
To get into those corners
To find the crumbs and bacon bits
That fly off of the counter.

So while its job is alternate
And not in fancy settings
My little brush is valuable
A fact Im not forgetting.
                             ljm

IDES OF MARCH

What’s the purpose of it all
It’s only raining dust and grit.
The sky is weeping spatter
And the only sidewalk is
On the far side of the street.

They shined up Highway 95
But out front here is nothing
But deep breaches in the tarmac
And anything that doesn’t hurt
Me manages to itch.

All the good stuff is locked up
In upstairs rooms down endless halls
Where something has been splashed
Across the carpeting
And the door is always padlocked.

The book inside is second handed
And it’s marked up in random places
That don’t align with what
The index says should be there
And the Ex Libris page is missing.

The day is pecking at its shell
Of hopelessness and need
In hopes of gaining freedom.
The prayer wheel is no longer spinning
And the crimson candle has gone out.

There are reasons for it all
It’s written up in Sanskrit ink
And plastered on the backyard wall
That keeps it all inside or out
And I’m stuck in the middle.
ljm

Tarnished sequin in the Jewel shop of life.

How did I get put in with the diamonds?

I don’t pretend to even be Zirconium.

I’m not where I belong and don’t blend in.

Where’s the art and crafts department.

That’s where I hold court

And sometimes get to be the Queen.

ljm