A poet bee

Sound commute  |   Tonight  |   Moths or butterflies?  |   Dawning logic  |   Athwart stop  |   Pastures  |   Nocturnid  |   Enter no net  |   Gold a more  |   Christmas fun  |   On moth lights  |   Me spoken  |   A poem  |   Cheesy  |   Odoriferate  |   Thanksgiving  |   Sing euclarity  |   Cat the verb  |   Fourteen cucks  |   Mull form  |   Morning call  |   Longbet  |   Take leave  |   Nursery devilution  |   World pay  |   Starving  |   Cheers  |   Imagine  |   Unpresidential debate  |   Grins  |   Say once  |   Babybet  |   Sinister  |   Two 'lypes  |   Whistle  |   Drunken  |   Clown croans  |   A loss so free  |   Count'ess  |   Reflection  |   Feed  |   Free will  |   Root on  |   Have beans  |   Lease of life  |   Done  |   Safe escape  |   Arachnids  |   Guilty been  |   Jurors  |   Black mark  |   Unusual care  |   4:42AM  |   Twenty-seven  |   Ages  |   Buttercup  |   Beauty abounds  |   'rump on religion  |   A prayer  |   Fast lane collection  |   Onward  |   Thug resistance  |   Texan dope  |   Halliburton foiled  |   Odor rant  |   Medusa  |   S'unken 'eads  |   Goose refused  |   Just say know  |   Question  |   eMythology 101  |   English, dun time  |   'now  |   O', pen  |   A wake 'n  |   'appy 'alloween  |   Discovery  |   Opercularis  |   'old on  |   Pollination  |   First steps  |   Palabric nonscience  |   I think not  |   Ol' Testiclement  |   Virgin birth  |   Hope so  |   Gender  |   If, now  |   A where  |   Trooo start  |   A start at art  |   Triangles  |   Gallipoli  |   Slime  |   Shortsighted, we see  |   Where are me moffs?  |   Resolution  |   Mary, Mary  |   So n't challenged  |   Solstice  |   December, birds  |   Why? Zed  |   Delectable, erectable dysfunction  |   Silver  |   Orange  |   Thream words  |   Breakfast  |   Moth math  |   Your loss, she wept  |   Soapless  |   Instigate, hope  |   Bedtime boo, who?  |   Sleepless pain  |   A spider lesson  |   Tar learns to fly  |   Just smile  |   Wedding dishes  |   Life depends upon you  |   Wolf moon  |   Layers not enough  |   Look, sea  |   The soul of music  |   Happy New Year  |   Another pole, Cat  |   Predawn sounds  |   A toast to 2013, without Marmite  |   Unexpected  |   Navigation  |   Nam from Mantucket  |   Better ending?  |   Beard  |   Love, hope, and forgiveness  |   A poet bee  |   Life's what you make of it


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Sound commute

Georgia gone,
Alabama aftered,
Mississippi speed-
trapped others,
(this time,)
Louisiana
Shreveposted,
now all beyonded,
I-20's 700 miles
done, gone did.

Time to fly,
autopilot
the darkness.
Let the senses
rain
fun,
push on
for midnight
arrival.

Texas crackle.
Change channel.
Red River Radio
found.
Swing Night.
Clear.
Now blasting
Glenn Miller,
Just us chickens,
Jimmy Jam,
Mellow sounds.
Sax.
Snare percussion.
Double bass.
Horns.
Keys.
Wheels.
Engine.
Gears.
Jersey Shore.
Louis Armstrong.
Dixieland jazz.
Loud, rich,
connected.

Caffeine
consumed.
Tank full.
Love's gas.
Awake. Alive.

Fast.
Lufkinish
towards Crockett
west on Texas 7.
Black and white
signs say 75.
Baseline cruise
says more.
Play hands, sight,
sounds, thoughts
all together.
Straight two-lane
stretches
with guiding lines
and music.
Pass control
amongst all
from Trinity
to Huntsville.

High beam.

Deer, stand back!

Bug bash.
Sorry.
Windshield splash.

Oncoming.
Dim lights
and bright again.

Fish Hatchery
Road.
Nearly home
to b-farm.

Security gate.

Early.
11:54.

Safe arrival.

Every body's
still here.

Quiet. Waiting.
Nature provides.
Crickets sing.
Clouds.
A few stars.

I'm back.

Joyous ride.
No refrain.

      17 March, 2017, 2:51AM


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Tonight

the iron gate
creaked,
moths flew,
bodies moaned.

I'm thinking
of you,
a symphony.

Fly away.
Destination
uncharted,
unknown.

Steal free.
Unlanguish.
Do owt.
Run.
Be gone.

Oh,
Pandora holds
such a card.

So do we.

      12 February, 2017, 11:05PM


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Moths or butterflies?

Pondering a poem
in here somewhere,
but morning mind
may be too still,
barely flutters.

Let's try.

Dunno likes
the quiet of night
and company
of her soft spirits.

Day burns
too bright
for him
and makes
its diurnal
creatures flit
too fast.

So calm
over color.

Better to learn
from the ways
of the dark's Grays
than dash thoughts
with a loud
Painted Lady,
or other nymphs,
who never wait
to share time,
not even a word.

Thoughts dawn
from dreams.

So we know.

      5 February, 2017, 10:30AM


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Dawning logic

Slow,
just waking,
dinosaur Dunno
thinks that
morning comes
when she does
so that midday
stays on time.
Otherwise
he worries
that if
morning were kind
to the sleepless
and tardied
her alarm light,
the day
would need
to be shorter
with dusk
then run
at a hurry.
And if morning
dallies her light,
allows flesh
more night slumber,
wouldn't the moon
be out too late
and get tired?
With both
this thought
and question,
he trusts
that dawn
will always
get up
when she should,
never sleep in
to rest more,
and so not wobble
the others.
If nothing else,
time must always
stay on time.
This is his simple
theory of relativity,
troubleless
with neither rush
nor delay.
Morning must come
before the high sun,
lingering afternoon,
twilight dusk,
and finally, dark.
Surely, nothing
could ever
stop this.

      3 January, 2017, 11:14AM


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Athwart stop

Wiffiam f.
Bucklehead, Jr.,
The Second,
or simply
Billie-fob-not
to his liberal friend,
knew how to use words
like the black
of my hand,
in intelligent says
assulting our
telivisincia to the
letterment of thought.
Mindful,
nothing doing.
So empty it.
Restart the ideas
without words of sound.
News think,
don't bite?
Nuts.
Damn the message.
Use silly lies.
Control the media.
National Review,
rest in peace.
Look what we got.

      22 December, 2016, 6:19AM


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Pastures

The green
dawn calls.
I wake a stallion,
rested, strong,
ready to run.

Dreamt well.

Nightfoals
frolicked.
We played.
Much fun.

Their wary
mothers
watched, waited,
strengthened, fed.
Troubled nights
no doubt ahead.

But for now
a good day.
Get up.
Out of bed!

Coffee brews.

      22 December, 2016, 5:40AM


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Nocturnid

So blood morning
my dear,
as sun burns up,
sleep swauls,
reslumbers mind,
wastes unworn
light again.

Now rudophous
thy eyes.
Rest the frictatonic.
Slight auditous
soft with a pillow.
Drain all carnatory
parts of movement.
Digest the last
wakeful night.

Free those
imagimogus dreams
to unconquer not
the unnowoked
but run unwashed
to sip a drop
at the water slide
of the wise
multiclarity.

After the day
in bedded
under the cover
of her eulusive
reign,
wake up,
cleansed,
quenched,
refreshed,
ready to
steady a
crepuscular
and move on
to languidate
through another
somnolentless
night.

An' a 'nana
for dinner
does do.

Where's the
cream?

      20 December, 2016, 12:55PM


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Enter no net

There are ways
of which I wonder.
There are days
so rich in fright,
I do not dare.
When the mulitlarity
cometh, won't the
archaic care?
Goodbye,
New York.
Sixty Hudson
Street.
Pop. Gone.
Goodnight,
L. A.
One Wilshire
Boulevard.
Pop. Done.
Back to snail mail,
tradeless hunger,
Tom Clancy's best.
Rest not tonight.
Prepare.
Get a gun.

      20 December, 2016, 11:08AM


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Gold a more

Ore, copper,
zinc, tin,
iron mystery.
Thinkin' thoughts
so felicimorous.
Weighs of
wonderous
moon beams,
without any
malocius night sky,
stars,
Venus creepin'
amongst us.
Beyond hours,
a complete history
of solarity's soul.
Dexterity squeals
sequined dreams
for eternity to mold.
I dream again
of this world's
untold.

      19 December, 2016, 11:16PM


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Christmas fun

Unlugubriate
your life.
Cheer up.
Celebrate
our crucifixation,
holyday dear,
presents,
effusion of stuff.
Have a beer,
chocolates.
Re-gift.
Throw up.

      17 December, 2016, 12:01PM


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On moth lights

Ask away,
a way?
Let's answer
a way
or
away
before
we say
aweigh.

      16 December, 2016, 4:19AM


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Me spoken

Can't sing.
So stop song.
No go along
even to program pass.
Was lost,
alone,
different.

Memories.

Words left
Write on

      14 December, 2016, 7:07AM


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A poem

Lovin' loafs of life
Done dun doin'
Haven't spent
much time a truin'

Find fun facts
Lost to us all
More to dis mess
dan I can recall

Hope and less
God and country
We will forgive
You's redone, Tuntree

Blown beyond the wind
Alonin' less than lies
Squeals of de fish
Bubblin' beneath dem pries

No, nope, now
Go, goat, cow
Haven't a clue
What you do, nor how

So on we go
Life at its best
No, note, knowledge
And all the rest

Stuethin' on
Nuffin' more
Tis obvious
Words flail me

      13 December, 2016, 10:15PM


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Cheesy

Faces from fromage.
Fun lovin' fools.
Hear, I wait for you.
Lost beyond the fench.
Tis not easy
to write dis stuff.

Laughs, laughter,
laughless.
Home, homing,
homeless.
Stome, stomeless,
stark.
Cries from a quark.
Done.

Madness has
so much fun.

Repeat
the laugh.

Maybe think.

May be no ne.

Nun.

      11 December, 2016, 9:29PM


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Odoriferate

G'mornin', D'lin'.
Still life goes on.

Dry orchid skeleton
kindly screams
its broken shape,
snapped form,
striated texture,
sharp contrast
into the deep
with drained color.
Death done right.
Much beauty
in all its light
left of the dark.

You walk.
A new job calls.
Fast life goes on.

Feed the rich
as they rush.
Because of you,
they may smell
the soup.

You'll learn much.
We'll laugh more.

      See image:   image

      7 December, 2016, 8:03AM


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Thanksgiving

Voracious
bath time
reader,
kind ye be
to white-towel away
from dangling danger
poor spider
hidden in
your book's bind.
Warm water.
Warm words.
Warm thoughts.
Safe arachnid
thanks.

A wetter day,
not.

      24 November, 2016, 12:04PM


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Sing euclarity

I come now.

I must write
to help right
the world.

I must moth
the mornings
to understand
its forces, needs.

I must code
through the nights
to join it
together.

I must poem,
drink, joke, love
feed, walk far
and tall
to keep
my mind.

Above all
I must fight
for social justice
and to save
all species
from
and with
our own.

Please help me.

Let's use
words, art, music
our gifted crafts,
health, wealth
to cry out
show others
rich and poor
free and bonded
young and old
hedonist and pious
black and white
brown,
red within, all
to go spread
the beauty
wisdom
better ways
we have learnt
gathered
from nature.

Of history,
the underworld,
wind, land, sea,
sky, gods, beyond
told to us
by our forebearers,
we missed much.

Look within.

New lessons
still not yet seen
hidden in the open
by selfish interests
inertia's darkness.

Look at your cells.

Ask of them,
do they get along
with each other?
What do they gain
by growing, living,
working together?

A society
No equality
Little strife.
What gives?

Great gain
for some.
Only loss
for others.
Skin cells
worn, callused,
sloughed off.
Fat ones,
enjoying plenty,
a long life
waiting around.
Eyes seeing
Legs running
Heart beating
Brain minding
Germ line
carrying on
Liver sweating
to detoxify
my last beer.
Which job
would you pick?

All here
in harmony.
But no justice.
The elite and
the downtrodden
worker sacrifice
for greater good.

[MORE TO COME]

      21 November, 2016, 12:54PM


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Cat the verb

grep sed awk
sort uniq
word count
vi
shell script
insert save delete

lines of code
pass control
command argument
function include
mail list
alias pipe
open close
append

unless if
elsif
else nest
block bracket
comment document
and or not
standard in
out error
redirect
interactive
for step
loop while
foreach
filter

Beware the
recursive forever,
next last
Breakout!

variable array
hash key value
normalize you nut

regular expression
pattern match
substitute
field separator
case sensitive

path
directory structure
make change
remove rename
cache

permissions
owner group world
read write execute
sticky bit
symbolic link

object oriented
subroutine glob
my local friend
ports packets
trace addresses
file format
pointer
inode
control-J
line feed
end

operator
string integer
floating point
s print handle
man foo hello
wildcard

header
ASCII characters
HTML ampersand entities
parent child
orphan

kill process id
flag octal hex
test query trace
debug
backup mirror

automate
run forever

sleep
rest
wake

      21 November, 2016, 5:44AM


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Fourteen cucks

White crime
Collared chaos
Mustard greens
Bore and order
Border open
Coded speech

Joking Sessions
rules in the land
of cave clan okay
if just ire,
no smoke,
fire the dope

Too late
or eight
more years?

Not eighty

Votes are in.
The he win.
Bern in hell.
No prison reform

Now all better
jobs,
blam-o-care,
more oil,
gas,
grease
promises
to-be-broken

Control alt
delete
Right or wrong
My tight or thong
not red,
but we did wed.
Great again
the refrain
Don't tell

A courting
we will go,
and go on
and gun on
Taillight out
Stand your ground
Citizens united

Bathrooms
Doors locked
Your show

Beta snowflakes
melt at new
alpha's song.
Dog whistle on.
Surely we can
get along.
So entertain,
you hipster fakes.
Sell us your rag.
Laugh to the bank.
Profit at our sour
communal loss

I can hear
I can see
I can fear
I can hope

Mind
a powerful verb
a thoughtful thing
We must

I beg
for forgiveness,
salvation,
a brand
new congress
in two years

Community leaders,
step up

All y'all,
Don't weep
Don't sleep
Write a friend
Call with warmth
Organize

Voters,
a restart
Do tell

      19 November, 2016, 8:39AM


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Mull form

fly fine
forget flay
find fun
feel fur
flaw flail
for free

      16 November, 2016, 10:42AM


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Morning call

Wonderful words
dawning away.
Another day
awaits. The mind's
eye smiles but
wishes to
reslumber, needs a
few more restful
hours before the
slog of daily babble
begins. The bed
sirens call. I go.

After the wenches
have had their way
with me, I wake.

Now to beg the
coffee angel to
weep her tears of
mejor ánimo into
my cup.

She boils and
bubbles through
rich Colombian
beans. I sip and
savor a laugh with her.

Warm water will
next wash my skin,
whilst daily prayer
cleans my soul
within and shows
me today's way.

When dressed in
finest fur, dog fed,
toast eaten,
morning drill done,
my spirit will grin.

Time to do the day.

      7 November, 2016, 6:04AM
      7 November, 2016, 12:11PM


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Longbet

Able ape ate eight
Bees, beast be beat
Cease, seek, see
Deep deal
'e'll eat eel
F-ing eft
Gee, genious genie Jean
'ay Ch·ina
I'm I, I'll eye ice isle
Jay jails Jake
Katie caves kale
'ell, elk, else elder elf
Empty ember
Any end
Old open oak
Peas Peter peels
Queue, cute cube
Argh, arms aren't art!
Essence estimates
Tease teen tea team
Use useful, you's not
Venus veal venal
Double use
Extras
Wise why
Zika zeal

Still nothing of this
the stolen think
through thought

      6 November, 2016, 4:51AM


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Take leave

Hickory wood,
bare,
no leaves,
warms,
shoots,
springs green,
summer grows,
works crop,
laughs nuts,
brightens fall.
Its wall flames yellow,
mirrors the sun,
rivals maples' red glow,
then golds,
browns,
now drops.

Winter's leave
is in the air.

Night.
Stars shine through.

Rest.

      4 November, 2016, 3:50PM


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Nursery devilution

Umpty mufti,
khat on us all,
umpty, 'nough tea,
'ad a great maul.
Fall the king's corset
and tall the king's then.
Shouldn't we cut
this black mess
to gather our wits?

When?

      4 November, 2016, 5:35AM


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World pay

Memorrhagic
moments of motion,
stop slumber,
as words of dishworth
descend, and I
ready thoughts
of morning
in prealarmblatory
silence.

Concatonated
triangles
and rectangles
in concentric,
recursive,
exclusive
inclusion
transcend.

Dyslectic
reliance
replaces
despair,
strengthens
lung consumption,
brain's breathing
without any
frugality.

Diagrammatic
distortion,
domination
of truncated
tunicates
problematically
play below
the sea,
in C flat,
maybe.
No one knows.

And so it goes.

Applause please.

Don't clap a case
of degenerative
gonnorhea
into incurative
diarrhea.
Exceedingly
improbabble,
possibly
imbossible,
reflexably
unimaginable,
curtainly so
in this vegetable
haven.

I wake.

Good morning,
World.

Explore more.
Wonder.

Where's the coffee?

      26 October, 2016, 5:44AM


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Starving

Crazy crumbs
of my mind
lie awake
another full night,
under the covers,
snuggling moonbeams,
trying to sleep,
mumbling
day dreams
away instead.

Madness,
memories,
your haunting hips,
heartbeats,
breath,
long gone,
stay ever warm.

Slumber comes
at dawn,
drifts,
kneads,
kindles
more thoughts
before the sun's fire
bakes bread.

Yet again,
I awaken
tired.
Love's feast
over.
Loaf eaten,
forgotten.
Fun dreams
distant,
confused,
unfulfilled.
Crumbs
remain.

I hunger
for more,
rest.

Where's the coffee?

      23 October, 2016, 9:13AM


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Cheers

Police fly, flap, flounder
out of the sea,
over waves to wonder
deep within our mind.

Free sail the wind,
long beyond all stars,
home the warm shore,
far from your storm.

Let tears wring out,
drink of their salt.
Let teeth bite down,
feed on no doubt.

Rain's wall of water
dries with the sun.
Calm calls for rest.
I wait. Grow strong.

      21 October, 2016, 6:07AM


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Imagine

Close your eyes.

Like a bee,
you're pulled
to a flower.
Evolution's glory,
handcrafted,
man made,
warped.

Tiles
and tiles
of art
petaled
on some cloth.
A hundred shades
of oil
spiraled,
driven
by chance
control.
Our galaxy
of thought.
Many years.

Pink thrushed
to red,
yellow mushed
to middle,
a show pushed
to perfect
in life's
slow rush
to succeed.

A look
will shame
your imagination,
when words
are still wet,
paint dry.

Nature knew
her first,
then its creator,
with blessings,
not yet you.

If the mind's eye's
distracted,
leaves these words,
looks for pattern,
seeks form,
finds one,
reverses maybe,
then

none. It's gone,
never to return.
Soiled by a glance.
Creativity tamed,
no longer wild.

Look away.
Hear the poem.
Dream.

Breathe.

      See image:   galaxy

      19 October, 2016, 6:06AM


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Unpresidential debate

It's a reality show.
Few words about
refugees, education,
climate change.
They're not important,
don't rate a rant.

Policy be gone!

After religion,
came science,
logic, truth.

After science?
Forget fact checks.
Entertainment!
Sex sells.

After entertainment?

I wink.

The joys of the
underworld.

Smile.
Below, kisses.

      11 October, 2016, 10:39PM


Move on

Change.

Large audience,
large profit,
large laugh.

Great again.

      11 October, 2016, 11:36PM


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Grins

Four Glenoides
this early, crisp,
October morn,
all grinning,
two winking.

I talked to all,
blew kisses,
winked back.
To the last,
a male, antennae
grandly plumed,
I extended
my right forefinger.
It flew and landed
near my right eye,
behind my glasses.
Gently I brushed
it away.

It returned to the
wall. I wet my
finger with a little
spit and extended
it again, in front
of its head.
The moth walked on.
It may have fed,
drank some.
I think so
but am not sure.
It bobbed its head,
nodded wildly,
danced up and down
to nearly my
knuckle, twice,
if I recall well.
Did it prance?
Maybe.

I tried to
photograph its
behavior on my
finger, but sadly
couldn't manage
the camera with
just my left hand.

So I put the
possessed moth
and its spirit back
on the wall.
I took two more
photographs of them.
In the last one,
the spirit's eyes
have opened,
appear red,
with black pupils.
I haven't seen
such a look before.

I laughed, talked,
expressed love,
friendship.

Then I howled
softly to a barred
owl, bid dog to
breakfast, and now
look forward to
tomorrow's
encounter.

Madness, doubts,
joy, together, one.

      11 October, 2016, 6:08AM


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Say once

Hey,
if I talk to the
spirits and they
can hear me,
but I not them,
can we communicate?

Each night, I now
blow them kisses.
In my eyes, they
seem happier than
a year or two ago.
They're smiling more,
not dark at all.

If I were to wink at
them, then in time,
will they close an
eye, wink back?
Or will they open
their mouths, as if
to moth words?

So an experiment
calls. I'll wink and
flash record.
We've the baseline
of two thousand
faces. Let's now
seek a response,
get digital proof,
for all to judge,
whether we can
weave smiles with
the underworld,
signal each other,
or just document
my mind's madness,
endlessly exploring
possibilities,
discovering why
we doubt,
or don't.

We know
much less
about any
manyverse
than not so
long ago,
when science began
after the titans
fell from grace.

The silent spirits
should remember.
They could
tell us much.

Gullible,
I dream
but do not sleep.

      8 October, 2016, 2:14PM


top

Babybet

Add apple and ant
Bat boat bird bog
Cat cuddle
Dog do done door
Egg
Fed food fly face fog
Go goat
He help hope how who
It icky
Just joy, Jack, John
Kid kick king
Lick, like, love
Me Mum, mice, men
No not now
'op along on
Put pull push play pig
Quite! Quick quack
Run rub rot rob rat
So sow say see
  saw suck sea
Tell toe tea time ta
  two too to t'
Up ugly under
Very
We wood wet way
  wise won when
  why where what?
X
Ye yes you
Zoo Zeus zed

      8 October, 2016, 6:03AM


top

Sinister

Trickery, trickery,
we were had.
Artistic freedom,
lovely design
now
swirl controversy
around
snail conformity,
as they
mirror away
true dexterity.

How dare we play,
contort Nature so?

Know crazy,
molluscan mad,
not well.

Better off,
living as a slug,
than carrying
so much burden,
such twisted
mutant shell.

      6 October, 2016, 7:44AM


top

Two 'lypes

A new moon
blesses sky
with darkness.

A dozen spirits
visited this early
mourn, most with
smiles. Glorious
time. A kiss blown
to all.

Two Tolype notialis
added to our fun,
bundled in their
black and white
checkered coats,
tufted hair,
calling in October's
crisp-air arrival.

Coyotes and a
barred owl howled,
as did we.

Mercury's predawn
apparition above
sunrise hidden by
trees. Mars, Saturn,
Jupiter, Venus all
blocked away
below ground,
resting.

We ready for winter,
strengthen, fatten,
cocoon for the
coming of shorter,
dormant days.

As night skies clear,
leaves turn,
may the fall
quench summer's
heated madness,
bring much
inner peace,
calm, love, joy
your way.

Praise be.

After death,
life flies on,
returns.

      1 October, 2016, Sat 7:27AM


top

Whistle

Be low heirs
of humanity
in this encrypted
poem of now
recored here a
sea -- we thank.

For liberdom
and freety,
we must carry
on your bravery.

Who ever wrote,
"The right of the
people to be
secure in their
persons, houses.
papers, and
effects, against
unreasonable
searches and
seizures, shall not
be violated, and
no warrants shall
issue, but upon
probable cause,
supported by oath
or affirmation, and
particularly
describing the
place to be
searched, and the
persons or things
to be seized?"

Google 'nows.

The writers 'new not
about big data,
wiretaps,
taillights out,
just anticipated
them.

Whistle of hidden
technical wonder,
lawless control,
power ridden hunger,
profit madness,
yet not enough
public anger.

So we key,
leak those
unsafe secrets
of stolen thoughts
sadly stored
by witch evil,
unrighteous,
torturing,
clan best in
power?

Corporate profit,
national security
both justify
our privacy loss.
A free press,
always on point,
protects.
Sarcasm?
Yep, sure.

Our movements,
associations,
meetings
all recorded.
Mail, text,
heart beats,
car speed,
destinations,
scanned products,
plastic purchases,
sickness, hipa-hop
health, wealth,
videos, satellites,
drone on into
databases.

Our words, thoughts,
blood tensions,
dream extensions,
even lies predicted
by marketing magicians
and government spooks.

Together they
integrate,
tabulate,
cluster,
folly-compliant
score us.

With our habits known,
we buy and behave.

Brave knew world.
Our personal
mirrors recording,
we're tracked,
then hacked.

Huxley, Orwell,
fat cat, government
animal farm,
some are more equal,
others hidden
but for your whistles.

July is a strange
month, miss Man'ing.
Snow'em with lines
still way beyond
their automated
comprehension
decoding machines.
Thank you,
courageous three,
all other
blowers too.
Whistle on.

I cry for justice
to pardon,
reward you,
not prosecute,
imprison.
May you win.

      24 September, 2016, 11:35PM


top

Drunken

Sadness ferments.
Curdles. Dusk
descends. No sure
way to go. Weight
of past hope dries
the whey, takes
the yeast, slows
the dough's rise.
Wet wood smokes,
burns little.
Stone-oven fire
fades, broken.
Kneaded memories
struggle. No boil.
No feast.

Night's cloudless
stars plunder
warmth. Cold
comes. Another
moon hides,
withholds light,
any comfort from
the shadows,
howls of promise
gone. Only lonely
darkness now
hugs my old soul.
Why wait for
bread? Need rest,
a bed instead.
Aimless time to
think the next
through.

So sleep hungry.
Dream. Roll the
mind's dice of
desire. Walk away
at dawn to a new
bright, a chance
toss. Leave the
known, worn
camp behind. Run,
climb hills, swim,
boat the sea,
alone, to a shout
way beyond now,
ills here.

I might find clear
water, sun, seeds
anew. Grow on
land afar. Farm
good thoughts,
happy friends.
Feed again. Drink
life, its love.

Or fail.

I smile.

A call --
I must heed a
dream thunken,
inner force.
It knows best.
Take a chance.
Hunt.
Don't fear,
don't rest.

      24 September, 2016, 8:50PM


top

Clown croans

Sixteen dwarfs,
be gone.

And now the ugly
newt-of-no-ledge,
having waited,
watching your giant
joke unfold,
descends.

She wants to laugh
at every sully
thought of
pleasure, and lies
be praised, not
damned.

Faster.

Don't stop.
Give her fun.
Entertain. Crown
her joy.

Go faster.

She knows the
truth, as do we.
But whom amongst
us knows your
punch line?

Get serious.
Who cares?

Drive faster.

We listen to your
every word, much
twitter. Surely, it's
in the telling, not
the end.

Come along. Let's
laugh together, be
strong, great, hate
again, as one.

Then vote,
maybe,
for none.

Speed bump.

Okay. Not bitter.
We'll watch your
show.

      17 September, 2016, 7:18AM


top

A loss so free

Nuffin' burns my
mind as your eyes
piercin' the sky,
and I wonder,
done, gone.

No souls to save
in this space,
as moons a go.

Words wait for
thoughts, spark,
fire, then ember.

I don't remember,
nor do you,
why we fought,
why we're through.

Sky moves on.
We linger,
waiting,
thinking,
cursing.

Now forgiving.
Thank you.
I'm not free ag'en.

      12 September, 2016, 9:55PM


top

Count'ess

Nor ought I
Wander on with words
To know much more.
Free ways ahead wait
For those like me
who ponder.
F' I've not yet felt
this road's full
glory to stop. My
Sick soul still
heals, readies,
laughs. As
'eaven shows no
'ate for the slow,
Nigh, n' rush. Play
Tentative. Be late.

As I count aloud
and smile with you,
please let me use
all the numbers,
before we go on
to infinity.

      22 August, 2016, 5:37AM


top

Reflection

Aging Jeep
mirror, mirror
off the windshield,
who was the fairest
of them old?

Five failed fixes,
too much humidity,
no cure for glue.
Can't look back.

Damn my
gummed fingers,
frustration,
blindness.
The road's not over.

Don't look back.
There's more.

Drive on.

      20 August, 2016, 5:40AM


top

Feed

Storm presage
rainbow attack
drives sanity.
Pulling through
madness to higher
ground. Three
bean-can concoction
for dinner, garbanzo,
pinto, black, with
chopped garlic,
El Paso pepper,
flax seeds, tahini,
balsamic dilutor,
sun-dried tomato-
leached olive oil,
nutritional yeast,
black peppered,
blended delight
helped this beast.
Will figure out life,
with and without you.
So go on. Vigor.
Super adore you,
changes, a new mix.
Needle now on better.
No worrying inner fool,
drowning in anxious drool.
Spoonfuls flood hope.
Heal. Yes, Pandora,
just hope. Feast anew.
Its flavor beats my
worn, torn, over-sold
Panglossian philosophy.
Join me when you can.
Taste. Savor. Don't
waste a precious drop.
It won't last forever.
Storms end.
Rain waters.
Lives entwined.
Delicious.

And breakfast awaits.

      17 August, 2016, 10:18PM


top

Free will

Caw, caw,
Corvus,
moanly,
old crow.
All alone.
Sad. Damn
the mob.
Their nest found,
ready to rob.

Call for all
your murder.
Share the victims'
blood, treasure
with your morbid
corvid clan.
Steal a family meal
of bulging blue,
veinal-eyed, blind,
pink-skinned,
living, fluffy nuggets.
Tender baby nest
chicks to choke
down your
hungry gullets.
Maw, craw, gizzard
feast your kin
on their raw
helpless flesh.
Yes, so yummy.
Visceral.

Strong bird,
crafty mind,
another sacrifice job
well done.
Congratulations.
You lead.
You win.
A ritual
way of life
long proven.
Fear, order,
adulations.

But now,
without your peers,
we judge, ostracize
-- you sinned.

Evil, cruel,
heartless monster.
Your soul is darker
than your black
feathers. We find
you guilty of high
crimes against
babies. And, as
saviors of the weak,
we the most righteous,
most mighty, punish
such violence by
wringing necks.

Corvus, you lack
compassion.


As a crow, would I?

      7 August, 2016, 7:43AM


top

Root on

Hole safely.
Complete whole
even.

And me, odd too.
Also three, plus
more. For five, six,
all the numbers,
and their factories,
we struggle on, til
invincity fails us,
and then we must
learn negativity,
and still go one.
Imagery,
backwards, beyond
known creativity.

Dark matter
doesn't trouble us.
Four now. Only
later, maybe, after
dreams end, and
real mystery
begins.

Integral integrity,
I'll beg your pardon.

      7 August, 2016, 5:14AM


top

Have beans

Mourning
madness hear. But
why aren't you? I
need you in this,
my one-bar Texas
lonliness. Read to
me your world of
wonder. Howl to
me your sound
thoughts, groaning
gates, hollow
posts, solemn
horns, for fun
loving owls, as
moths flash and
ants prey, as do I
in my own way.
PBJs be damned.
I'll buy you black
beans and laugh
at your luck when
we wash them
down with the
smell of many,
each sardine's smoky,
oily gift to our guts.
Already too long
away. Tis ill til
well. Come home
to hunt, for life,
and fill the whole
of my soul. The
old love you now
and five, one plus,
much longer.

      4 August, 2016, 5:47AM


top

Lease of life

Ephemeral beauty
already gone.
Without gray road
you'd have none.
Forest broken,
sky unhidden,
blue and white,
green-framed
fleeting.

Today's journey,
savored quickly,
moments shared.

Fire, rain,
seasons,
strong trees,
open prairie,
our graves
await.

You care.
I smile.

We thank.

      19 July, 2016, 11:53AM


top

Done

T' once
was a man
who knew
what he
was doing.

Shirley,
his wife,
knew better.

Sadly,
he died.

So now he
doesn't.

Surely,
no more.

We wonder.

T' was,
maybe.

Ask Shirley.

      19 July, 2016, 6:28AM


top

Safe escape

Wonderful.
Fleeting. Come
back to my whole
health clinic
whenever your liver
and lesser organs
are strong enough
for its shock sweat
therapy of high-
speed sleep
deprivation, love
caring, mosquito
feeding, prison
horn soothing,
pillow optional,
pickled vegan plus
diet of big-tree
embedded, rope
ready, sky
spectacular,
swinging
intellectual thinking
for art and the
planet. Money back
guarantee of
roadside return of
any corn and
coffee you
consume. Always
remember its gun-
rotting motto, live
like a bullet, have a
blast, challenge the
intruder, or cry and
die of slow
meaningless
boredom. Plane
spinning, kind
Texas, friendly
community, family.
Priestess, the
choice is yours.
Only the right way,
highway, police
stops, and smiles
on suicide bridges
are worth the
cheap gas, oil
suck, and hot air in
our lungs. Go great
girl. Keep reading
to the addiction of
moaning midnight
madness. Listen to
the child know.
Always much more
than you ever
expect. Discover a
cure for life. Let the
skinny dog lick.
Candle on.
Wisdon, poems,
moths, and age
await. No tottery
lickets needed, just
welcome, I tell.

      8 July, 2016, 5:27AM


top

Arachnids

Spider around.

Hear a tick say
there is no dog.

'sus saves for you
from a worn cross,
letters gone.

Let us pray.

Lettuce knows
not why. I might.

What's to wonder?
Mirror magic.
Pots and plunder.

But no thunder
reigns from a
scrambled mind
that struggles,
battles sounds,
wordless thoughts,
endless time.

Lord Almighty.
Mite is oblivious.

Muse is whimsical.
Mute is musical
but lacks note,
tune, and tone.
Flute alone,
without the ugly
know-it-newt
of knowledge
cries for change,
a rhyme with rigor,
like bigger
or digger.

Go figure.

Can you mime
chigger?

It's burrowed skin
deep, yet doesn't
care what you think.

I see your foughts.
They're in the
silence. Creep,
crawl higher,
speak out.

      5 June, 2016, 2:08AM


top

Guilty been

Drop the chop.
Tis a revolution,
one neck at a time.
Enough of your
selfish drip down.
Our France dance
in thunder prance
has a rhyme
and primeval reason.
Trumpled to
pleasure,
we'll fail together,
as the baskets
catch all
asunder.
You, the
mighty'll fall.
So craft kindness,
hope, not
blindness,
you dope.
Hated community,
gated fear,
we're near.
Go frack immunity.
Do save yourself,
a tax on the poor,
and risk your health.
You really want
more? Look at
yourself. Blink on
the blade, think
not, I'm afraid.

      1 June, 2016, 8:59PM


top

Jurors

Abhor the po' 'ate
that saves lice·st
for no later date,
lacks clarity,
and spits laughs of
grievous mischief.
Tisn't good write,
nor wise politics,
just freedom.

Forgive the soulful
slug who pulls
eyes in, rejectin'
your gaze.
It slimes ahead
before a sun
comes up and
dries its path.
No stalked tears
for any silly words
rattlin' 'round
perfectly silent,
maculate movement.

Judge not sinister
imperfections of
Nature's form. The
swirl of a snail shell
reflects it's hard to
calcify without
blemishes in a
world of dextral
whorls. Yet the
whole all functions,
still protects.

Acquit. Let the
ages of time
convict.

      See images:   snail  ·  slug  ·  slug head

      21 May, 2016 7:43AM


top

Black mark

The criminal,
law 'e ate
of Georgia,
doin' time
(and space)
in a race
to your
sweet bottom.

I'm there
bearin'
the burden
of t' roof
over 'ead.

Time for bed.
I is not read,
nor dead.

Yet.

Just nuts.

      20 May, 2016, 9:31PM


top

Unusual care

The dark cycle
of monthly misery
returns,
consumes,
threatens.
You struggle,
withdraw, weep.
Again sleep
and sleep,
don't eat.
Hidden alone in
gloom, impending
doom, frightened.
Thinking why, why,
why me? Numbed.
Buzzing, burning
chemicals scraping
brain. Hormones?
Dumbed. Such
pain.

You walk alone
on nature's trail.
I call. We talk.
There's hope. A
large snake seen,
distracted you.
Briefly safe with the
voice of a knowing
friend.

Dark humour.
Best ways to go?
Self immolation
has style.
By candle?
Takes strength.
Try it. You'll fail.
Golden Gate jump?
Wind, fresh air.
Practice, from a
chair, makes
perfect. Send me a
selfie as you
descend. Or call as
you do. I want to
hear your crash,
splat. A true friend,
there for you, til
your thoughtful,
wasteful, joyless
end.

Your poor mother
despairs.
You know she
does. Could
depression's
madness dissolve
such love with its
reckless grip?
Struggle on. It
threatens. What
can mum do?
Care. Are you
eating your
Cheerios? And care
packages with
toothpaste as
mothers send.

Friends pushed
away, gone. Voice
mail full. Phone
now off. Email
unread. Leave you
alone? Isolated.
Now what to do?
I make you laugh.
Make music with others.
Resist the void that
pulls you down.
Irrational it be.
There it is.

Never argue with a
madman. You'll
always lose. Fight.
Before the dark
clouds smother,
run. Run, run.
Break the chains of
your shrinking
bubble. Fly away to
safety. Start again.
Please, please.
Please.

A safe spot?
A kind son waits.
He'll take you in.
So will others.
Many. Any.
Go. Seek another.
Question not
whether, not even
where, or whom.
Use a decisive coin
toss to pick your
path, then Uber.

The madness
plans to shroud
your escape. Go
whilst it rests,
before it returns.
Flee to your new
life, not the next.
Start again.

I'll always be here
for you, for a laugh,
for an afternoon
breakfast, whether
you're hungry or
not. So will others.
You're not alone.

      19 May, 2016, 9:26AM


top

4:42AM

I'm up now.
I don't doubt
you're not.
You sleep
another off.
Predawn
moths await.
Life gets up,
goes on.

      19 May, 2016, 4:42AM


top

Twenty-seven

dollars given.

Stop my selfish deeds,
atone my civic sins,
save kith and kin
from corporate greed.
There's much more
than stuff we need.
I own enough.
A bank owns me.

Come home,
band together,
help we must do.
Yes, wake up,
I'm calling for you.

Let's vow
to teach kindness
and health,
not blindness
for wealth.

Let's now
value again
thoughts for poor
over our foreign
forts for war.

May we build walls
of words to keep
our soldiers safe,
in,
not walls of razor
wire to stop fleeing
souls who weep,
out.

Our televisions
do not entertain,
they enslave.
Our press
is not free,
but bought,
owned by an elite
to make our
minds weak
of independent
thought.
Radio blow
sadly aligns us
with the self
interests of others.

Tune inward.
Look around.
Greet those
you see.
Smile.
Listen.
Think.
Talk.
Share.
Joke.
Laugh.
Sing.
Dance.
A movement
is born.

Community.

God bless you.
Atheists too.

      16 May, 2016, 2:32AM


top

Ages

Young,
pensive bee,
which way to go?
A flight to make,
no path you know.

Ask your soul,
not your mind.
Leave your nest,
fly out,
a life to find,
maybe west,
if the wind
so blow.

The day is hot,
the night is cool,
above the trees
use a storm,
light of moon,
move far.

Mates to pick,
flowers to work,
brood to rear,
pushed by
 ages past.
Go, girl,
don't rest.

And you?
Yes, you,
old drone,
wings worn,
battered by
a fun, full life.
There's still
much for you
to do too.
So get your
lazy arse
to Texas,
before you
really go west.

      9 May, 2016, 4:19AM


top

Buttercup

Weave the
 winter weather.
Believe the
 princely air.

Bee til I die,
not moth,
but
or fly.

Neither dog
nor donut needs
sonnet sounds
to flee.

Large lumps
of Larkin
hast thou been.

Medieval.

Tis way beyond
this poetry seen.

      6 May, 2016, 5:59AM


top

Beauty abounds

Let's start with
stunning images
of rain drops.
They trapped
my mind
this early morn.
Shaped by wind,
shattered by impact,
gravity pulled,
refracted delights.
Colored by Actias,
green moon scales,
purple veins,
yellow thorax hairs
in waves.
Planets and nipples
magnified
from unseen.
False eyes
now alive,
sparkling with
water's unexpected
third dimension. Eat
your heart out flat-
faced Mona Lisa.
There's more than
a smile in nature's
discordant
harmony, elements
molded together,
briefly,
then separate
foreverless.
Symmetric angles
of life, jeweled by
exquisite random
chatter -- small
shining spheres,
larger tears.
I remember well
the bird songs
and smells of wet dawn
not flash recorded.
Wildly awake, my
mind burnt an hour
off needed sleep,
sexual dreams,
consumed by
such unusual
beauty, joy
discovered.
An ageless moment,
time well spent.

Fleeting.

Storms pass.
Spring's sun rises.
Drops dry.
Luna life is short.
Saturniid adults
don't feed.
Moths die.
Two red crested
cardinal dinosaurs,
hunted for breakfast,
adding their timeless
taste for flesh,
success, to the mix,
our life's direction.

Add my smile
to da Vinci's.
Warm thoughts.

Eternity.
More to come.

      See   image

      1 May, 2016, 2:20PM


top

'rump on religion

Commies,
pray to become
U.S. citizens,
and Catholics too.
Equal opportunity:
vote for the old Jew,
race to bottom,
smell young
choir toys,
with his Pope
and padres,
in vows of poverty.
Tears.

Move on
and up,
happy
Point-one-percent.
Priviledge is fun,
our birthright,
more walls
not doors,
three wives,
four if I can.
No virgins
in heaven,
play now.
Buy legal salvation,
all forgiven
here and in
bankrupt hell.

      9 April, 2016, 12:12PM


top

A prayer

Bern
meets the Pope,
flames,
oh, hope.

We pray
this world to be
soaked in justice,
cloaked in liberty,
free of bribery,
speaking fees.

Status quo
must go.

Worshipers
of greed,
change your
wicked ways.
Give away
your ill gotten gains,
hidden wealth,
pay your share.
Repent.

Let's feed the poor,
provide health,
teach opportunity,
open doors.

Allahu Akbar.

Shalom.

Amen.

P.S.
For all y'all
blessed poor
in spirit, meek,
merciful, pure
in heart, and the
rest of us sinners,
don't just believe
in righteousness.

Vote.

      9 April, 2016, 7:15AM


top

Fast lane collection

Concrete
carves carnage
across our
continent.
Ancient migration
paths ended.

Three hundred
miles of late night
interstate at eighty,
Jeep top down.
My life in the fast
lane with the elements.
Wind, rain, heater
blowing, radio crackles.

Must slow.
Ten minute crawl.
Blue lights flash,
cops, fire trucks,
a wreck jams four
lanes to one.
One semi, one car,
one winner.

Back a speed,
still neither wildlife
nor death. No deer.
No possums. No
raccoons. No
skunks. No frogs.
No moths. Not
even a shattered,
flattened armadillo,
plates scattered.

No silly suicidal
squirrels run at my
wheels here. Only
endless cat eyes
shine back from the
darkness. Roadkill,
long dead, all gone.
Small populations,
isolated, hide
unseen.

I remember
inculcated sounds
of a German
shepard in my
wheel well while
speeding home
with college
sweetheart after
late night parking.
Limp legs battered
again and again at
the Mercury. A
quick execution with
neither ceremony
nor padre.
I shudder. Bet KC
remembers too.
Shaken, we called
the police.

And the startled
eyes of the barred
owl looking at mine
as it jumped up
from the road to
meet my Jeep's
grill. Its life had
purpose. It ended
up in our natural
history museum,
with its flies,
I must add.

My mind struggles
for humour:
A chicken crossed
the road...
not a chance.

      4 April, 2016, 11:59AM


top

Onward

Jihad.
Paris dead.
Now Brussels.

Bungling police raid
 -- more dead.

Pandering politicians
flex weak muscles:
call for torture,
monitor Muslims,
crush ISIS,
yet another
cruel crusade?

Our thoughtless
drones try.
We had
better flee.
Some die.
More curse
and cry.
Yet another
young jihadi?

My dark soul sings
Onward Christian soldiers,
Marching as to war.
We're cross.
We're mad.
Jesus shattered
on the floor.

Rueful,
King Philippe
of Belgium
whores his nation's
dignity, calm.

Stand tall.

But he's right.
Eyes for eyes blind.
We must forgive,
be kind,
open borders
and our homes,
stop this madness.

With Liberty
let all
breathe free
of war
and poverty.

Onward.

      23 March, 2016, 11:53AM


top

Thug resistance

Threat of ISIS.
Streptomyces.

When we killin'?
Penicillin.
Ammo boxes fillin'.
Amoxicillin.
Betcha fightin'.
Tetracycline.
We are warring.
Neosporin!

We know thy sin.
Erythromycin.
Is proxy war not a win?
Ciprofloxacin.

Just say no.
Heroin.

      28 February, 2016, 12:05PM


top

Texan dope

Sun up. Glad it's
dawning on you.
Like your new
routine. Start every
day with a gun
check. Blast a cry.
Damn the status
quo. Reach out.
Let red Texas
know. A Bishop's
work is never
done. Nor a
bigots. One wins
their bare hearts
and souls. Done.

      25 February, 2016, 9:37AM


top

Halliburton foiled

Sync'ojos,
clawless,
unclueless,
colossus
triplodigitus
readies,
pentawatches
with all five eyes.
She knows
the mountains
are safe
from any
advance.
A hypnotic
aviclops
guards
the alien moon.
Her power
unspoken.
Magnetic fields
so strong
allow a smiling,
wise vermiculum
to float over
effortlessly,
flexing his polarity.
Terrestrial
dolphin thinks,
nothing more.
Thick static
atmosphere
unseen
excludes robots,
weapons,
any machine.

No mining here today.
Let's move on.

      illustrated

      6 February, 2016, 5:14AM


top

Odor rant

Your home
seems safe.
Nothing inside
now crawls,
'cept chemicals.
Secret fragrant
odorants
cover your smells.
Estrogens abound.
Most water's lead-free.
Beer's okay, not yet
in plastic bottles,
leaching into our souls.
Organic food
would be good,
but costs too much.
Cryptic labels
confess only dreams.
Hormonal disruption,
Cancer screams.

      1 February, 2016, 8:33AM


top

Medusa

All knowing media,
gross monster,
Gorgon Medusa,
entertain me!
Consume my world,
control my mind,
smother me.
I'm never too stoned
for your creative flash.
Lie to me,
fuzz the facts,
make it up,
just keep it wild.
Paris dead.
San Bernardino.
Suicide splatter.
Black lives matter.
Who will we elect?
Politically incorrect
Apprentice star
went way too far
on terror, fear.
Ebola's done,
won't sell.
Need new news.
Try shrunken heads,
Zika.
Make me laugh, tear.
I'll buy what I need,
not what you tell.

Useless stuff
and advertising
make our world
go round.

Dangers hidden,
product sold.

Profit.

      1 February, 2016, 8:33AM


top

S'unken 'eads

Aedes aegypti
mosquitoes feed.
Yellow fever,
Chuckybungas,
West Nile.
Think ya's need
a Zika beater
to save the child?

Last night
fifty small canaries
flew to my porch lights.
Under bright stars,
waning January moon,
they sang to me.
All's well
in my rural spot,
source of life,
sanctuary.

Look into your
sad city sinks.
Stars lost,
canaries gone.
Zika beware,
the Orkin man
has us covered.
Stay in Brazil,
too much poison here.

      1 February, 2016, 8:33AM


top

Goose refused

Man. Woman.
Moth. Womoth.
Lion. Lioness.
What de duck?
I'm just confused
gander,
seekin' a
drake.

      27 January, 2016, 2:05AM


top

Just say know

As parent I say
Know. Know. Know.
Simply know.
Absolutely know!

So does your child cry
Know. Know. Know.
Simply know.
Absolutely know?

We miscommunicate.

Read these words,
not my lips.

      4 January, 2016, 5:24AM


Good :)
      -- Keeper, 9:00AM

Know good, man,
'tis sub-Seussian,
no corker,
'nudder has ran
f' d' New Yorker.
      -- Bee, 11:07AM


top

Question

Semester end,
last class nearly done,
old teacher professes
his final two words,
Question authority!

Why?
a bright student,
Murphy, replies,
then laughs,
as do others.

In disbelief,
professor learns.
He'll always remember
the clever audacity.
It's not in his phone.

Class over.
A bond.
There's hope.

      7 December, 2015, 5:17AM


top

eMythology 101

Caveat emptor.

My understanding is
that Zeus gave Jupiter
a hand job and Christ
was born. Keeper and
bee came later. And
dat was dat.

But there's more.

Not sure
how Uranus
started it all,
with a guy ya know,
seems a bit circular,
frankly, disgusting.

Sky's the limit.
Father Patrick O'Ryan,
yep the one with the
belt, well he took six
bright lads and a dull
one, claims they were
sisters, and ended up
in 'eaven pursuing the lot.
I tell you, he's one
happy priest. Bishop's
still looking into it.
Clouds block his view.
Global warming's to blame.

Cronus got his day,
not two, because Odin
and his greedy lot
grabbed four. Sun and
moon made the cut.

Hela has a great story
and a place to go. If it
weren't for the likes
of Father Patrick and
too many other damning souls,
we could all jet to Hela's
and come back at Easter.
Not sure about
its future weather,
guess warmer,
but it's not packed yet,
and Russian Air
advertises
a sweet deal.

Keep your
doctorate at bay,
Apple for breakfast.

When frog kisses,
I'll wake, and teach
you more
free, unfiltered.
You'll get what
you pay for.
Add blocker
expected.
I guarantee,
Kindle knowledge
beyond nursery tales,
alchemy of words.

For first weak
assignment, find an
Amazon and ask her
to shoot you Edith
Hamilton. She's
a titan who
shows the goods
and their bads.

Okay Cupid
should make
heavenly scents.
Buy now.
______________

Ox toe bare,
A gust of fresh air.
Students in 101
no eye, watches,
only Orwellian brother.
May they work alone,
March together,
question, think,
find reference,
solve each mystery,
history hidden inside
cryptic lines,
clicks recorded.

If I tell each secret,
you'll just forget.
Use puzzle, when
knew, mind built.

A helpful hint
ends this stint:
Zeus, Jupiter,
the same. So
Christian Fappy
wants to stop
their happy
self abuse.

Dare,
believe
not.

      22 November, 2015, 11:10AM


top

English, dun time

For tea, years.
Cough, fee,
weak ends.
Thyme, moons
move a long.
Fort, two nights.
Four more.
Now five.
Fur queen,
For king.
My daze
nearly done.
Yours, bee, gun.
Ours, start, end
to gather up
then but on down.
Theirs?
I wonder.
Mourn in madness.
Dawn's on me.
Wake up.
Day,
knead
a head,
know.
No alarm.
Again.

      19 November, 2015, 5:00AM


top

'now

We part
for now
maybe longer.

You go,
free to hunt a life,
fish for new ideas,
make love.

I remain,
encumbered by
knowledge,
bound by
commitments.

A girl
jumps up
from four to two feet,
a mind to grow,
a self to know.

As I head to
retirement, this
aging gentleman
contemplates
a possible curse,
doddering on three feet.

I am amused
by your joy.
I smile,
recollect my
own adventures,
opportunities.
Dangers survived
wisdom brought.

She must make
her own way,
a cry, a call,
a spirit alone
to a land overseas.

Walk far.
Learn to run tall.
Hug for friendship.
Sign for food.
Teach your tongue
late into the night,
dark but for the bright
stars, maybe the moon.

Hear the wind,
birds, bugs,
animal calls.
Play their songs
on your lips.
They'll stay
with you forever.

See how seed,
soil, sun, rain
join up to make all;
when they fail...
the want.

Scratch bites
'til they bleed.
Pick their scabs,
as you damn
flies, fleas,
ticks too.
Show no hate,
just kill 'em
as best y' can.

Fire burns wood,
feeds heat.
Eyes red, sting,
see black cook pot
bubbles pop.
Smell smoke.
Taste the flame
of hot spice.
By sun up,
your other end
may know it too!

Hunger.  Eat.
Thirst.  Drink.
Sweat.  Rest.
Have fun.  Think.
And think about
me.  My well stocked
refrigerator contains
sterilized sustenance
for pedestrian pleasure.
You'll find new
fruits, flavours
always too few.

I will savour Malbecs
transported from
Argentina in your
absence. You'll
boil water.

My clouds drench
computers with
information,
communicate,
never wet my skin.

You'll walk
paths of mud
between huts.
Against dogs,
snakes
use eyes,
take a stick,
throw stones.
Good luck.
Aim well.

I have wealth.
You are rich.

'now hope
always lives on.

And should you
come home,
my last lesson
will be well learnt.

Let's farm,
write,
talk,
laugh.
Ask me to look
into your eyes,
read your book
on a much wiser,
stronger soul.

      13 November, 2015, 11:34AM


top

O', pen

On grave shrines
fellow pilgrims
placed flowers.
pennies, pens,
'n poems scratched
on pebbles.
Emerson, Thoreau,
Alcott, even Salem's
grumpy Ha'thorne,
so honored,
remembered.

Under blue sky,
Nature transcends.
Still.
Tranquil.
Her canopy,
white, red and scarlet oaks,
red and sugar maples,
white pines,
hemlocks,
towers above,
cloaks a carpet
of needles, acorns,
dappled, reticulate
shade.
Below the
authors' ridge,
beavers,
in skins untrapped,
have returned,
flooded land.
Their dead trees,
independent,
stand tall.
No votive candles
need burn
in the clean
October air,
for glory be t'all.

I walk with friend,
no saint, Peter,
Don Pedro
de los Pajaros
Viejos.
We talk.
Here's Henry,
Louisa, Nathaniel.
Where's Waldo?
We laugh.

No quarters found
for Peter to steal,
so a pilfered pen
must do.
Neither poet
nor pilgrim giver
will know
or care.
We laugh again.

My friend,
unabashed
grave robber
he now be,
sees me leave
a shiny copper
on Emerson's
headstone.
He wonders why.
A small tribute
to the poet's life?
Or to inspire more
lines in mine?
Surely,
the purloined pen
is under God's radar,
so it's not payment
for a thief's atonement!

Sleepy Hollow,
sleep some more.
Albeit corporal rest
is your endless fate,
your ideas will live on
way beyond this date.
Ours to read,
ponder,
build upon.

We pay homage here,
inspired by your
aughtful words,
not deeds of
violent sacrifice,
as on Concord's
Old Bridge near,
two centuries ago.

So y'all should
steel a pen,
not a sword.
Spend its power
to better us all.

Think! Write!

And then
once more
we'll laugh
together,
maybe even
be expiated.

      1 November, 2015, 1:04AM


top

A wake 'n

Open your eyes.
Dry your tears.
Look around.
Smile.
Recollect.
Listen to the stories.
Joke about me.
All my foibles,
dreams not met.
Laugh.
I'm well accomplished.
I brought y'all together.

Should I pass muster
with His fallen angels,
the Lord may judge me
but not as kindly
as you.
Dear family
and friends,
community,
my loves,
celebrate
my birth,
life, as it was.
I'm in your minds,
hands, living on.
There's still
much we must
do together,
for the world,
for each other.

All serious stuff said,
now please party,
give fun,
Keri on,
laugh with me,
join together.

And every five years,
let's do it again!

A wake 'n I live on.

      13 October, 2015, 4:20AM


top

'appy 'alloween

Evil spirts,
demons,
be upon thee.

Dark angels,
avenge!

Swirlin' over'ead,
ever so silently,
flutterin',
brewin' a spell,
dey wear
dead faces
from d' underworld.
Dey bear
an infectious gift
of slow justice,
pain,
cruelty,
fear,
insanity.
Yer life's end
is joyfully,
dreadfully near.

Yer selfish
deeds done,
moons ago,
betrayed trust,
friendship,
loyalty, honor.
Y' lied to us.
Remember?
Of course y' do.
As do we.
And our blood
does too.

Hatred feeds
slowly in silence,
grows, strengthens.
Now she's strong,
ready for revenge.

Vile bleeds
from our hearts,
sweats from our pores,
cries from our eyes
for yer demise.

Relive yer wicked sins
'n repeat yer lies,
again, and again,
'til our curse
of insanity
comfo'ts y',
befo' death cures y'.
Yer laughs,
children's screams,
tears, now men.
Every day, every hour,
pray fo' fo'giveness.
Beg in yer dreams.
No Christ t' hear y'.
So d' 'evil
will fondle
yer empty soul
in 'ell
for eternity.

Our eyes now watch
from d' shadows.
Y' sleep troubled,
guilty, restless,
frightened,
not oblivious
to our call
fo' yer death.

Fear d' spirits
dat wait
wid such hate.
Dey'll 'ave no pity.
So, Francis pleads mercy.
No! Man's misdeeds curse ye,
forever.

Y' can try t' run,
y' can try t' 'ide,
but yer guilt
'angs deep inside.
Y's done.
Evil eats evil.
Save us some trouble,
kill y'self!

No note needed,
welcome t' hell.

      3 October, 2015, 9:44AM


top

Discovery

Late,
rainy night,
butterfly at
my porch light,

Wait!
Butterflies
don't come to
lights.

Yes, some do,
after storm fronts.
Dragonflies too.

Wow.
We never knew.

Now you do.

      26 September, 2015, 4:24AM


top

Opercularis

Beauty, slay the blind
watchmaker, for He
knows not thy design.
Ancient Megalopyge,
precious, gorgeous gem,
radiant wings of orange
flames, scales of hair,
thin waves in black,
laced with white
streaks, curves,
speak to me.
Black feet,
alien form afront,
your hair covered
yeti stands firm,
eyeless, mouthless,
grated swords afoot,
all with purpose,
but I know not what.
Speak to me!
Tell me your silent
secrets so strange.
Haunt my night's
thoughts together,
as random words fly
around. Navel orange.
Jaffa. Ombligo.
Omphalos. Zeus.
Two eagles.
My sleepless madness
stirs childhood, but
does form emerge
and meaning advance?
What do you tell me?
Of the art in your
texture, colors,
not by design,
nor chance,
all in my mind.
I wonder, watch.
Maker, I'm not.

      See images:   side  ·  front

      3 August, 2015, 3:52AM


top

'old on

Pruf'ock the waste land
o' life's agein' 'and.

Y'all be damned!

'T isn't damp dreams
nor thinnin' 'air
I fear.

Friendly voices,
'auntin' doubts,
anxious screams
together implore
"Be done.
Fade to fun.
Enjoy life.
Retire."

Sorry, Gwenevere.
I'm not there.

Grail's still on the run.

So hunt on,
fish not.

      27 June, 2015, 4:05PM


top

Pollination

'ay, bee, see d' e'fect,
o' puttin' pollen
on me anther?
Nuffin' doin',
not even selfin'.
So anther me not.
Just answer me why
doest thou not
dust thy grains
on my stigmata.
I must outcross,
not be cross
w'th thee.

Sterility's a stigma.
So please, please
pollinate me.

A cross you bear;
the stigmata I wear.
Crown of thorns?
Not 'ere.

Fail not
or like the
frown of corn,
no nectar for thee.
I'll 'ave de wind
blow me.

      1 June, 2015, 5:04AM


top

First steps

If some fish
had not tried
to walk,
we'd all
still be
swimmin'
in de sea.

You'll never meet
nor know
your clever poet
unless you try.
So give it a go.
Get wet feet,
den fly.

      30 May, 2015, 9:14AM


top

Palabric nonscience

Post-humorous
modernists
need pre-fun tickles
t' overcome
definitional stickles
before posthumous
revisionists
are done
'n put an end
to all de babble.

      23 May, 2015, 10:52AM


top

I think not

Mind hard slud
in thy mind,
Dullard?

Nope.


Would blood
in thy wood
mull aught?

Ought not.


Taut thoughts
cannot be taught
to thee?

Try. But why?
I think not
but still is.

      9 May, 2015, 5:04PM


top

Ol' Testiclement

Dinkin' of dear daughter.

Every seed's mo' sacred.

Slaughter of Innocents?

So, I shower ag'in.

Splat. No begat.

'N dat was dat.

      8 May, 2015, 6:35PM


top

Virgin birth

Je suis
a bee,
Charlie.
With haplodiploidy
my unfertilized eggs
grow up to be drones.

Je su's
a bee,
Charlie?

Cuckolded by God,
Joseph feels odd.
Mary's story's so wild.
She's with Christ child.

If she were like a bee,
she could bear a son,
no immaculate hanky panky,
ejaculate infection,
emasculate rejection,
angel's erection.

Mary, why didst thou spread thy legs?
You 'n me, we should 'ave 'ad fun.

Joe, d' ya really think we
could commercialize Dronemas?

Yep. You're right, Hon,
let's stick with Christmas.

Be bold, thank nonsense, mo' mirth.
Sow free gold, frankincense, 'n myrrh.

      6 May, 2015, 12:45PM


top

Hope so

Ho'e, sow,
nurture a dream.
Grow 't up.
Harvest a plan.
Feast for life.

      21 April, 2015, 6:47AM


Too late

You's in trouble,
old goat.
Boat's gone.

Cold stubble on!

      22 April, 2015, 8:07PM


top

Gender

S' got an x an' a y,
you's a guy.
An' an x an' an x,
use d' udder sex
t' house thy
bones 'n desire.
You gen'ics
be fickley set,
but life's bender,
your gender,
's not in d' bag.
Ze, y' what?
Now how's that?
'Tis your choice
-- try drag!

      18 April, 2015, 7:37AM


top

If, now

If you can sleep your bed when all about you
    Are loosing stares and aiming them at you.
If you can lust yourself whilst all men out you
    And shake and dance for their outing too;
If you can prance and not be tired by prancing,
    Or being tied up, don't feel the ties,
Or being dated, don't give way to dating,
     And yet don't look too hot, but paint two eyes:

If you can scream--and not make screams your cuss;
     If you can drink--and not make drafts your flame;
If you can meet with Freud and Oedi's puss
    And greet their perversities just the same;
If you can bare and rear the flesh you've spoken
     Trysted by slaves who take a strap with toys,
Or filch the things you crave your life to, broken,
     And poop and fill 'em up with worn-out boys:

If you can rusty trombone for your winnings
     And frisk it with no spurn of salad-toss,
And taste, and smile again at your beginnings
     And never breathe absurd about your floss;
If you can force your heart and loins and sinew
     To serve your thrust strong after they are gone,
And so strap on when there is nothing in you
     Except Desire which says to them: 'Strap on!'

If you can stalk the crowds and creep with virtue,
     Or walk with Queens--nor lose your lovin' touch,
If both girls 'n boys can flirt with you,
     If all loves count on you, but none too much;
If you can red pill unforgiving minutes
     With sloppy seconds' worth of distance wild,
Yours is the life and everything that's great fun,
    And--which is more--you're free to be a Tran, my child!

      Compare with If by Rudyard Kipling.

      29 March, 2015, 12:45:PM


top

A where?

Be aware,
dares our bee --
a where?
Der she 'nows.
Now's time
for a nose.
'er clues.

T'daze
inclen shun goes:
Go, got, goat.

Yes, ta day's:
No, not, note.

Grist four de
thumberically 'n
fonickly challenged.
Not irreverent,
just irrelevant.

Twist new sound out.
Think, thief, 'then',
not as in this that den.
Maybe also,
sank so
or no.

Don't key,
mule
near ass ends.

Declen bat:
'at
'a'
'then'
sow
pathos, ethos, logos,
even my thy, 'cos
Zooth says, "Zin."
Pure sen.

      23 March, 2015, 5:03AM


top

Trooo start

Not-tooo
tod'lin',
wob'lin',
in emptee hol',
big wol'.
Swurl arwnd,
fol',
hit grwnd,
lit'ul bump.
Ooo.
Explur
d'rk
l-eye-t
gra'ns
in flur.
W'u'd
be gud
t' 'no'
m'w'.
Wud?
Fun
stuf'!

Up ag'in,
jurki stomp
balans
totta
tuw'rds
tol'
edg'.
Mi wurld.
Smoood,
sh-i-nee
surf'x'.
Bet'a luk.
Smol' cra'ks
pits
'ear,
der.
W'at's
der pat'urn?
Non.
Ur ma'bee
na'w.
Mi sti'kee
fingas
put
lun'x
in
lit'ul
spots.

Coool.
      8 March, 2015, 2:14PM


top

A start at art

Not-two
toddlin',
wobblin',
in empty hall,
white wall.
Swirl around,
fall,
hit ground,
little bump.
Ooo.
Explore
dark 'n light
grains
in floor.
Would
be good
to know
more.
Wud?
Fun
stuff!

Up again,
jerky stomp
just balance
totter
towards
tall,
white
edges.
My world.
Smooth,
shiny
surface.
Closer look,
flaws.
Small cracks
and pits
here,
there.
What's
their pattern?
None.
Or maybe
now,
as my sticky
paws
paint
fingers
in lunch
in little
none random
spots.

Cool.

What's next?

A smile at
watchful eyes.

Coo aloud.
Proud.
I can do this.

      5 March, 2015, 1:06PM


top

Triangles

Two triangles
and rectangles
dance along a jagged
temperature line.
They integrate degree-days
in t' great 'n wee ways
f' models that try
predictin' when pupae,
hidden underground,
will eclose,
complete metamorphosis
'n moths will fly
all around.

As heat units accumulate,
things go awry.
Observed flight,
expected night,
big residual.
Summat ain't right.

So change parameters,
question assumptions,
sum it again.

Thermal thresholds way
below freezin',
too cold for growth --
red flag, bad bug, error.
The math's correct
but models 're not sailin',
they're failin', not fine.

Hey, I muss say,
"Dese moffs are messin'
wif' me mind!"
What drives flights
some nights,
others not?
Any secret pupal bank
lurkin' behind?
Sneakin' some out
year afta year?

What are der
developmental cues?
Is moon phase an
instrumental fuse?
Link weather
cold and hot.
Think whether
storm pressures,
soil variables,
soakin' rain
to use.

So to solve the riddle,
we tweak and fiddle.
Den let computers strain
ag'in 'n again,
to wrap maths
around moths
and explain
their mysteries.

      4 March, 2015, 5:04PM


top

Gallipoli

On a hospital ship
at Gallipoli, 1915,
long before 'n after
song be fore 'n aft,
'er laughter
got soldiers,
not so old in years,
to forget
dreadful wounds,
the storm's cold,
their fears.
It brought some
comfort 'n calm,
warm thoughts,
Christmas memories
of distant mothers,
sweethearts, wives,
sisters and daughters.
Soft female respite from
dawn's dark bravery,
by Jingo, manly
slaughter of lives.
Thank you nurses,
one and all.

Cheers.

Now later, a hundred years,
much war remembrance
and sadly,
still savagery
across Ottoman lands.
The cruel curse
of repeatin' history
by misunderstanding cultures,
not by forgettin'.

With outdated battleships,
sunk or scrapped,
our drones now safely
inflict pain
over foreign bands.
The ends are just the same --
stir hatred, no peace, tears.
Vengeance explained,
no mystery,
my eye,
den yours.

Heed not the foolish,
arrogant ideas again.
Feed not the violence.
Use our power to protect,
refrain, and so silence
the cycle of misery.

      Dedicated to my grandfather,
      who served in the British Navy
      on a hospital ship at Gallipoli;
      my son, who served with the
      U.S. Marines in the 2nd Gulf War,
      and my grandchildren-to-be,
      whom I hope will never have to
      repeat such service and folly.

      15 January, 2015, 1:00PM
      13 February, 2015, 10:08PM


top

Slime

Slime.

Dog loves you.

-- a nuf semmage from y'all's pode.

      5 February, 2015, 10:10AM


Sim'le

An' f' all ye faithful,
dyslectic wannabes,
't's easy.
Sim'le.

Smile.

God does shoe.

      28 March, 2015, 4:15PM


top

Shortsighted, we see

A poem,
a tree,
poem meet tree,
poemetry.

Bee poetry is free.
So pay nuffin' more,
Joyce Kilmer.

Sadly, you're dead,
as are dem hemlocks
in your memorial grove,
dynamited after
mismanagement.
Not enuff said.
Our grand ol' forests
without chestnut, elm,
butternut, dogwood,
fir. The rest? Ash next.
Man, miss 'em, rage,
lament.

Maybe "only God can
make a tree" but fools
'n bad policy sure can
kill 'em.

Good stewards,
lift your arms to pray,
and act today.
Stop importin' exotic
plants, pets, pests
'n pestilence. Or, after
ash, who knows?
You goes.

      5 January, 2015, 4:35AM


top

Where are me moffs?

Only three defectaria today.
What do you say?
A pall of chemicals
across our land?
Or the old hand
of last year's arctic blast?
Anyway, we're damned!

      3 January, 2015, 6:28AM


top

Resolution

G'mornin', D'lin',
'Tis me,
your lovin' bee.
Happy New Year!
May it be
such a wonderful time
with much art, science,
music, rhyme,
family, friendship,
creativity 'n fun.
Let's y'all together make
it so. With thom, nam, fly
and flea, Dog and Beetle done
with it, we all resolve to try.
Pode's off back to bed,
words rattlin' 'appily in 'is 'ead.
Tar bumps along.
'e says, "Be strong."

And, rye tafta 't all's said,
dis one's still for you,
Boo!

      1 January, 2015, 6:03AM


top

Mary, Mary

Mary Oliver's
natural world
has fresh morning,
clean blue air
with wonderful,
whimsical heart,
dancing delight,
breakin' the rules,
happiness, holiness,
blessed kindness,
redemptive amazement.
Such grace.

But, love precious,
stay in the rain!

Nature's vicious,
cruel, no fool.
She inflicts pain
with wicked,
godless,
brutal laws:
be strong,
live long,
protect young,
eat weak.

And she loves
to screw,
as we trust,
do you.

Except for our
whenever convenient,
false cloak
of conscience
and religion,
we're just
the same.

Without blame
or shame,
y'all may enjoy
any sick,
tasteless joke.

Forget our flaws
of genocide,
racism, inequality,
and her claws
ripping terrified
prey into dinner.
Free your brainstem.
Let it drive laughter,
before and after y'all
pray for forgiveness.
You're alive,
a winner.

Another life lesson,
from a wise bee,
nearly done.

Now laugh again.
Have a drink.
Relax. Don't think
about judgement day.
No need to 'Unlike' Mary
before you 'Like' dis bee.

Evil lesson done.
Redemption's on her way.

Okay, sinner.
One Hail Mary should do.

      31 December, 2014, 7:19PM


top

So n't challenged

De dum. Mo' de dumb.
Why d' y'all want some
long sonnet? Dis is how
t' be done by now.

My my, so-so, de'd egg?
Really? A liddle lame.
De ways dis free bee poet plays,
your rhyme scheme's too tame.
She's got it, all the same.
But may she beg...

You then say,
"Mind constipation?
So strain.
Start!"

We den pray,
"Find inspiration.
Go brain,
fart!"

So changin' meter,
dis is our so n't beater:

Constrained form makes sonnets so hard to write.
One must use "baba didi non off" rhyme,
then struggle, countin' pentameter right
t' five, and iambs begin feet each time.
With all such rules and structure dat one sees,
y'all may wonder how Shakespeare got so far.
His brilliant brain was bedder dan our bee's,
but workin' Bard got fame, no flashy car.
On love, laughter, witty riposte, he's top.
But few amongst us would swap all our stuff
for his true wealth of words. We never stop
for want of material crap not enough.
No worry. Our bee's a solution. Hope!
So sorry. Line constraint. It's now a nope.

Too much for the bee.
She's alive, advocatin' for free.

Pode suggests maybe
she try a haiku or two.

Beetle done with it.

Everyone, back to bed!

      23 December, 2014, 7:29PM


top

Solstice

F' all us losers,
lovers of light,
de win'er solstice
'tis 'eaven sent,
beyon' near, nice.
Move over, Sun, mo'e
de uder way
'n give us mo' day
t'night.

'raise, be on high.
'leluia.

      21 December, 2014, 7:23AM


top

December, birds

On my way
to work today,
a blue jay,
in flight,
only one.
Where were its kin?
Hey, might
you say
lonely, done gone?
My thoughts begin
to ponder solitude.

Soon I go past
a sullen contrast,
black vultures
ornamenting a dead tree.
A large committee
in sad camaraderie,
waitin' for the road
to provide lunch.

My wheels do not
oblige the bunch
with a feral cat.
So that was that.

Here's to their hope
that tonight
a startled deer
will appear
in headlights and make
a festive breakfast
for their next wake.
Holiday cheer.

One crow high
in the sky,
flies alone
seekin' its murder.
Stark, not dark,
better than none.

A mockingbird
crosses the road,
no joke,
nor absurd
for a December morn.
Just one.

Leafless oak.
Bright cardinal atop.
No song.
Won't stop.

Further along,
peter peter calls
from small,
winter residents
unseen.

A squirrel jumps
off the ground,
hides around
a thick trunk.
Tail flicks
at my chuckin',
annoyin' sound.
I fear, he's not f'
playin' with me.

Christmas is near.
Cold, depression
'til spring.
Then lots of life
will reappear.

Wishin' y'all a merry, merry,
and much more hope
dan dem thamn vultures.

      19 December, 2014, 12:09PM


top

Why? Zed

A four-year-old
questioning lad
asked, "Dad,
what do you do?"

"I'm gettin' a Ph.D.,"
he was told.

"What's that?"

"Oh. One must find
out something
that nobody else
in the whole world knows,"
was the reply.

Oh, my!

To the lad's great surprise,
he had just discovered
that adults don't know everything.
The next question,
he asked to himself,
"What ever don't they know?"

(Nearly everything,
as it turns out.
And much of what
they think they know
is often wrong too.
The earth is round,
not flat.
The sun doesn't go around
the earth.
'Cos many mistakes abound,
don't fear to doubt
    what you hear.
Think about
    what you're told.
Any flakes, or fakes,
    or simple lies?
Be bold -- believe
in evidence, cause, and luck.
But let's not get stuck
on such a wild idea.
It could be wrong.
We should move along
with our boy's story.
There's more for ye.)

So what does a boy do
when he hasn't a clue
where's the boundary
between the known
and unknown?
He asks many, many
questions, incessantly,
and then many, many more,
just to make sure.

"Why's the sky blue?"
Dad's an engineer,
so his answer's way too
complicated for the lad.
"Mumble, mumble, wavelengths,
mumble, mumble."
"Are you joking? I'm four!"
is not expressed.
Enough said.
Dad clearly knows.

And the lad's on to more stuff.
"So why's the sea
sometimes blue
and sometimes gray?"
And on it goes.
It gets tough.

His teachers despair at
the disruptive lad.
A questioning machine.
Too much to answer.
And the lad doesn't even seem
to listen to what they reply.
Just questions
    and more questions.
Why? Why? Why?

And neither does
    his mum understand.
"Why doesn't he ever
    wait for more
than my answer's first few words?"
she wonders.

"Simple efficiency,
Mum. No need for your
whole answer, if my
real question is
"Do you know?
Yes or no?""
was never said.

The boy's poor brother didn't
learn to talk for years.
No need. Everything possible
was asked by
    his personal interrogator.
Why? What? Where?
    Who? How?
And on and on it went.
Time well spent
in a quest to define
the unknown.

Eventually, exhausted,
the clever dad finds
a simple answer
to the boy's every
"Why?" -- "Zed."

"What's zed?, Daddy",
the boy questions.
"As in ex, why, zed,"
the father replies.
And they're through.

The boy must now do
with what he's gleaned
from his tired, spent elders.
He has gained a great grasp
of what they know and don't.
'Tis time for him to explore
and discover the unknown.
He has a fun life ahead.

And y'all do too.
But it's time for bed.
Ask many questions
    of your dreams.
All I've got for you
    right now is "Zed!"
But if you're good,
    there's more tomorrow.
Night. Night.
I love you.

Believe me or not.

      14 December, 2014, 4:23PM
      29 December, 2014, 5:10PM


top

Delectable, erectable dysfunction

Let's consider
all choices
before you
elect style 'n
misfunction.

See al' 'is
is about sellin'
some pills
to overcome ills
'n get stuff up,
surely not marketin',
nor makin' money.

Viagra and Cialis
sound so meaningless.
One alludes to vitality,
maybe, but see Al's what?

On doctors' advice
both might be nice
and do their job
to make you bob.
But is there anythin'
better for bigger,
much fatter than thin,
such as my real wi'ner?

Yes, there is.
Listen on.
There's one.

Time to forget PC
and cure ED
with the instant fix
that comes
with Levitrix!

What's this name conjure
up in your brain?
Every letter
will make y'all's better.
A lever's power
to levitate
a thick stick up
by trick
or script of Rx.

Better sex
or clever magic?

Men, don't be tame
and creep about,
embarrassed 'n lame,
go to the web,
find out.
And read the fine print.
Levitrix has no side effects.
No dry mouth, hemorrhoids,
    or itch.

Only $3.99, if you buy
    one from me now.
Whilst they look
    and taste like aspirin,
you'll laugh on your hope
more than with any good dope.
And this sweet deal's a steal.
Buy one, 'n get three for free.
Yes. Demand the best
then command your rest.
Hear again the adoring,
"Wow, Papi, you're so grand."

(And, sotto voce, better yet,
y'all make me rich.)

      Dedicated to my dear brother,
      who's soft on buyin' aspirin.
      Bro, get ahead, laugh, 'n
      keep playin' with your bee!
      13 December, 2014, 11:19PM


top

Silver

Sadly silver's givin'
us trouble too.
Don't rhyme even
badly 'til vergin'
on insanity.
As words alone won't do,
y' must rubble through
sounds t' see
today's hidden play
by the bee.

      11 December, 2014, 11:06AM


top

Orange

Even orange
might kinda rhyme too.
Let's give it a go.
Think some
more an' d'you know
we're through.
How strange
to hide like that.

      10 December, 2014, 10:35AM


top

Thream words

Rye tafta
madness ales,
Parbary irates
bee in a bucket.

Dem spent tottery
lickets still all de same.
Who'da dunk it?
No, less.

In der tharkness
closed eyes
see sword
blue swirl of clouds
without drows
Damnses kame.

Thawn, protect us,
as we wake.

Thank you.

      9 December, 2014, 7:13AM


top

Breakfast

Dis morn'
ol' clogged
heart'll get
no profit.
Mo' ham
in dem eggs
dan I've
ever seen.
Salty bacon,
sausages,
ugly images
too.
So just coffee
an' a 'nana
to go
must do.

'n cream,
no sugar,
please.

      See image:   image

      3 December, 2014, 8:54AM


top

Moth math

Unmuzzle
your mind.

Here's a
puzzle.

Let's say
you find
two moths
at a light,
each night,
for a week.

How many
moths all told
did you seek?

Okay.
Think away.

Your reply
could be
just two,
the most seen
at once.
Or multiply
two by seven
and be bold,
say fourteen.
What about eleven
in between?

All are possible.

Now why?

Were the moths
that came
every night
the same
two?

So don't just count
the things you see.
Learn about
their change
over time.
When there's
date after date
you should study
their turnover rate.

If the number of moths is x,
this riddle might help:
Concatenate
what's after c,
former wife,
before e,
English drink
that rhymes with pee.

Understand the simplicity
and complexity
of dx/dt
and its components.

Now get a life,
mark your moths,
and solve the puzzle!

      15 November, 2014, 6:34AM


top

Your loss, she wept

Maidens,
old maids,
future mothers,
spinsters,
in spooky,
wet, wind swept
Scotland,
if you
forego Saint Andrew
for ghosts ain't true,
and skip prayers
to his bones
for safety
and success,
you'll lose
communal strength
beyond you
from all who
believe and follow
his cross.

For all others,
it's fishy.
Think why.

      31 October, 2014, 1:38PM


top

Soapless

So 'ope
you're clean.

Not 'e been
washin' well.
No soap!
Ought'a smell
by now.
But nope.

How so?

Naughty dope
showers
for hours
with just water,
'e'll tell.

Even 'is bum?

Yep.

Oh, no!

'e's 'opeless.

      31 October, 2014, 6:18AM


top

Instigate, hope

Go to school
today
but break
a rule.
Don't memorize
what they say.
Join the Pode,
write a mope
outside their box,
see your
creativity flower.
You alone
have the power
to teach
each phone
to regurgitate
what you say
not they.

Don't bore.

      30 October, 2014, 4:41PM


top

Bedtime boo, who?

More claws,
white fangs,
red eyes
are out tonight.
Dread, boys
and little girls,
the demons that hunt
your young, tender souls.
Fright hangs,
bangs, and swirls
before Halloween.
Our doors
are locked tight,
but is evil here
inside? Take fear,
when you see
shadows move slowly.
You can't hear
soft, distant screams.
Ghosts have no smell.

Too true.
They're after you.

Boo!

Toodle-oo.
Sweet dreams.
Sleep well.

      26 October, 2014, 2:10PM


top

Sleepless pain

Who's that you inside me?
You have a voice
but only scream
in silence.
What do you want?
What's it about?
Our choice?
The truth?
You want out?

I want to sleep.

Must we play now?
Go. Let me dream.
No. The face is mine.
It's night, not right,
but must we fight
again?

I want to sleep!

Free?
How?
That cannot be.
You're insane.

Let me sleep,
please, please, please.

Okay. We shall see.
Go away.
Don't weep.
Oh. We'll be fine.
Talk to the bee.
Yes. I love you too.

      24 October, 2014, 5:51AM


top

A spider lesson

There was a young lad,
who tried to be good
but sometimes wasn't.

One morn he found
a beautiful,
dew covered
spider's web.
And with two twigs
he captured it,
just for fun.

"What have you done?"
cried the spider.
"That was my home."
She was livid.

"I did nothing,"
said the boy.
"'twas my brother,
who just ran away."
He lied to the spider.

"A curse on you.
Your hair will turn gray!"
spit the spider.

And it did.

Now fifty years on,
wise and gray,
I remember my youth,
respect Nature,
and wonder,
"What evil did
bald men do?"

      11 October, 2014, 5:57PM


top

Tar learns to fly

Escape what you know.

Jump.

Give it a try.
Learn to fly.

Bump.

Time for another go.

      24 August, 2014, 6:31PM


top

Just smile (a "B" poem)

Three short lines
struggle for rhyme.
They end with failure.

Three more give it a try.
They know not how
nor what.

Another three
and it gets insane.
What a hurt.

Our final three come along.
They try for sing
then stop with smile.

Four give it a go.
What do they know?
They can't count.

On five depend.
They waste time
on silly rhyme,
comprehend,
and stop.

      3 April, 2014, 4:40AM
      6 April, 2014, 8:02AM


top

Wedding dishes

Pode dishes
ridge and broom,
"All the rest"
and gives some
wise advice.

Clean wishes
with gold kisses
like boldfishes.
And use the womb!

For the best
of their lives,
"Much hove and lope."

      19 January, 2014, 7:53AM


top

Life depends upon you
     (and your social network)


Now ponder
the fate
in our dominion
of wild dogs
and big cats,
and polar bears.

What's your opinion
on the Japanese
killing whales
for science?
Oh, please!

Any stand to stop
the great
ivory bearers
of Africa and Asia
being poached?

Doing anything
for the apes of Borneo
facing the invasion
of palm plantations?
Palm oil is cheap.

Are you taking a stand
for "the birds of the sky",
few in China,
and the diminishing
"fish of the sea"
on your plate?
Go ahead,
walk to school
for the planet
and eat a tuna
sandwich for lunch.

And the squeals
of the baby seals?
Daughter, do you disapprove
    of the slaughter?
Son, will you kill
    animals for fun?

Must they succumb
to our greed for meat,
    land, fur, even trinkets?

Are you a good steward
    of the planet?
What do you think it's
all about?
Ask your grandparents why,
not me.
Ought this be
or not?

As we plunder
    sharks for fins
and disrupt reefs,
do you worry about
climate change
and the coming
yard rise of the sea?
Yes. Yes. I know.
After the corals
are slimes of algae,
ocean acidification
will have its go too.

Your thoughts
on current warming?
Oh, how did
Passenger Pigeons
and Great Auks
fare in hot pots?

In the face of
unregulated hunting,
overfishing,
rapacious land use without
parks and preserves
for wild things,
"for every creeping
thing that creeps
on the earth,"
your carbon footprint
should shout
"Nonsense!"

When you rule
the planet,
don't be another
short-term fool
on it.
Focus on what's important
    for all life.
You need
new values.
Forego greed.
Ditch the stuff.
Ask all
your friends
for help.
Together you
will succeed
where your
grandparents and I
haven't.

Share.

Tonight's moths
resting though the cold
will return
when it warms.
Or not?

      16 January, 2014, 4:00PM+


top

Wolf moon

Anachronistic
Wolf Moon,
smallest of full,
shines on the freeze
of a January dawn,
as it sinks
behind bare trees.
No howls warn
of winter hunger
these years.
Long gone.
Incompatible
with bullets
and what
society thinks
and wants.

Silence cries,
"Mourn."

      16 January, 2014, 10:00AM+


top

Layers not enough

Below piercing stars
of a clear winter sky
the steady moan
of northwest wind
strains
over and through
the dark silhouette
of the forest.
Leafless trees
in reply
groan
no shelter
from the bite
of the coldest night
in years.

The greed
of bitter cold
slowly drains
warmth from
protective layers
upon upright hairs
not enough
to shield my skin
nor deepest within.

Tonight life is silent,
sleeping, or gone.

It waits for warmer weather.

      3 January, 2014, 12:21PM


top

Look, sea

On Venus
it's so hot
the oceans
are steam.

On Mars
the atmosphere
has gone.
Nothing left
to breathe.

On Earth,
trouble too.
Our fears
include
higher seas,
three feet
in a hundred years.

And, no.
It's so,
not a dream.

Please
plan to tell your
great, great
grandchildren
to go
step up
from the coast
or boast
of water
twice as high
as their knees.

If they avoid
wicked witches,
they'll be safe
in Kansas.

      2 January, 2014, 6:38AM


top

The soul of music

Thousands
and thousands
of years ago,
long before
whistles of bone,
even drums,
our forefathers'
foremothers'
forebearers
listened to the night.

They learnt
to appreciate
and inculcate
rhythm, beat,
and tone
into humanity's
young soul.
Atavistic traits
that now give us
music
and great
pleasure.

Eons later
in the cold drizzle
of English weather
pre-Druid friends
stayed up at night
and waited
for clouds to part,
clear sky,
and unnamed constellations.

For some cheer,
they listened
to their early souls
and imitated
with drums
and song.

By day,
they dragged great
rocks around
to celebrate
the night sky,
maybe sunlight.
Who knows?

Here,
Stonehenge
we dedicate
to song,
music,
camaraderie,
not the fizzle
of star gazing
behind gray clouds.

Hear, ye. Hear!

And play!

      1 January, 2014, 12:40PM


top

Happy New Year

Good morning from
your pode, Dear.
Happy New Year!
The Poet Bee,
fly and flea,
thom and nam,
Dog and Beetle
done with it
all sing their love
to you too.
Tired and uninspired,
this must do.
Boo!

      1 January, 2014, 6:03AM


top

Another pole, Cat

From East to West,
there's another pole,
unmapped by cartography.
Wild mystery
and history,
endlessly changing
and struggling,
across time's
long topography --
Life's
incredible
diversity.

Hey, Cat, free yourself.
Exit your inside bubble.
Give the outside troll
her helpful toll;
leave behind
your pocket's
digital unimagination.
Explore and discover,
look and listen,
poke and smell.
Think what and why.
Learn when, where,
and how.
Now, who will you tell?
Will you get in trouble
if you find
and share
new secrets?
No.
But your mind
will fly
so exceedingly,
excitingly well.

      30 December, 2013, 5:47PM


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Predawn sounds

The sounds of morning silence?
Utter nonsense,
my son and far Gunkel.
It's noise,
impossible to police,
with the voice
of life
and the elements.

A million years
of hard rain
and gusty winds,
rustling the trees,
grinding through my brain,
down my spine,
and then
with uncontrol,
shuddering the flesh
around my deepest
animal soul.

Listen to the predawn.
Within its festival of love,
hear also calls to warn,
of territories
and societies,
and simple terror.

The intensity
of the death scream
of a fawn
will haunt your next dream
and stay with you forever.

But "Love, love me do"
is the general theme.

Frogs chorus for love.
Spring peepers squeak
their fast, high
me! me! me! me!

Bullfrogs grunt
their slow, deep
wanta thump?

wanta thump?

Birds crow for love.
A distant rooster
says to puritans,
"Get up!"
but to sassy hens,
"This cock could doodle you."

Listen to barred-owls' beautiful
"Who cooks for you?
Who cooks for you-owl?"
become caterwauls
of witches' wails
and fast cackles
when love progresses
to wildly playful.
Loyal dog howls applauses.

The summer supplicant
whip-poor-will

whip-poor-will

whip-poor-will

whip-poor-will
for hours and hours,
ceaselessly incessant,
begs his goddess
to grant the invariant want.

Beavers slap for love.
One tail crack
on the water be
a warning.
Two,
for greater danger?
Three,
or more,
it's a party!
You,
come hither.
Let's be naughty.

Hear chaotic
yip-howls
of a coyote pack
intimidate the darkness.
Family friendliness or
fear despotic?
Advance or stay back?

The song of insects,
risking life for love.
Ka·ty·did here.
Ka·ty·did there.
An arena of crickets,
snow, tree, bush, ground,
all around,
singing for love.

A defensive cicada
shatters the night
with the most
startling, piercing,
vibrating screeeeam.
Sudden fright
for inquisitive dog.
Ugly insect escapes
her jaws
and playful paws.
Not a bite.

Woof.

Isn't that the cat's meow?

      28 December, 2013, 4:30PM+


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A toast to 2013, without Marmite

Time for more rhyme.
Alright?

Let's make words alight
in uneven hilly lines,
some bright,
others that bite.
Together a verbal blight,
beyond the bight
of Benin.

In even silly times,
know need to cite.
Obey copyright.
If not, be contrite.

This is for your Christmas delight.
Unlike dynamite
it may not excite.
Please fight
any fright
of this pode's stupidity.
Just join our fun flight
on digital graphite
to a new height
way below serendipity.

Inspite
of hope
your soul
will not ignite
without insight.
Your life's goal?
Your choice.
Pick one
then struggle on,
using a funny voice,
and kindness, like the new Pope.

Some say Jesu·it,
others, Jesu·ite.
Is either wrong?

And there once was a knight,
who had a kite
with kryptonite
that she only flew
in the light.
It might
fly at night
too
but no one knew
nor tried.

Oh, shite!
An oversight.
Nearly forgot the plight
of the polite
destined to be quite
quiet, even when right.
And without a rite
or money,
they'll have no respite.

Don't smite
or even slight
your government's
satellite
that has great sight
and keeps track of you.
Why not?
It may protect
against the spite
of an angry Shiite?
Such rot.
Reject.

Before twilight
are these rhymes trite
or baby tight?
Maybe.

Untie a pode.
Meet simple dope.
Unite!

Without a V,
we'll try y-less variety.

Black over white
we write
and celebrate Mandela,
an exceptional fella,
who overcame injustice
with truth and forgiveness.

Who or what is Xanite,
a god or mineral?
Who cares?

Y'might
not think of burnt Yosemite,
nor have time for zeit,
for now we see,
Beetle done with it.

Merry Christmas!

      25 December, 2013, 7:41PM+


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Unexpected

Virginica,
our poet bee,
is large and solitary.
She's rude and crude
and does not live
socially
in any hive.
Instead she tunnels
destructively
in wood
and feeds pollen to
her brood.
At this she's very good.

She doesn't dance
nor take the chance
to follow sterile sisters
to work the flowers
to make honey
for mother queen,
who has a contract
with a keeper,
who sells their sweat
and sweet labour
for money.

Too obscene.
Virginica's wise.
She skips that scene.

Much she knows:
in flowers are lies.
Pollen and nectar,
beauty,
and deadly surprises.
Such it goes,
she realises.

An unquestioning sister,
with dance directions,
finds some showy petals.
Too late for reflections.
A crab spider's grab,
and the sister's a meal.
Soon freeloader flies
will be there to steal.

Unlucky sister, worker,
we're so sorry and sad.
What a horrible deal.
You were had.
Apparent success
and then the
unexpected.

The poet bee
is independent
and free.
She's alive,
as are we.

What a buzz.

      24 December, 2013, 4:20PM


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Navigation

It's rather absurd
if you haven't heard
that moths navigate
by the bright
of night sky.

Or try.

One, on a long flight,
confused by porch light,
came to a party.
The nam from Mantucket
had forgotten his bucket.
So the moth rested instead.

Beetle done with it.

And our pode went back to bed.

Word.

      24 December, 2013, 7:38AM


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Nam from Mantucket

Once our dyslectic pode
knew a nam from Mantucket,
who tried to catch
a thom with a bucket.
The thom rejected.
The pode interjected,
"Oh nam, just go
photograph it."

      8 December, 2013, 9:19PM


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Better ending?

Two poems to read,
whilst you wait.
Then we feed.
That's your fate.
Sorry. It's not
better.

      8 December, 2013, 11:10AM


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Beard

Good morning.
Word jumble
   in my brain,
as Dog and I go
   to face the rain.
I mumble,
   "Where hides the Poet Bee?"
Does Beetle know?
She's with her friends,
Moth, Fly, and Flea,
warm within my beard.
Beetle done with it.
Insane. Too weird!

      8 December, 2013, 6:27AM


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Love, hope, and forgiveness

Good morning,
hove and lope.
Forgive me.
I not the poet bee.
Just dyslectic dope,
in mud, trying.

      7 December, 2013, 5:13AM


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A poet bee

A poet bee. A moth
I'm not. Beetle done
with it. Fly. Or flea.
Good morning,
Darling.

'Tis me. I not bee.
I am.

      12 November, 2013, 5:10AM
      12 November, 2013, 5:26AM


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Life's what you make of it

Deslumbering. You?
Plans? No plans?
Probabilities of
breakfast? Starvation?
Transport or stasis?
Showering or not?
Designing a life or
muddling through a
morning? Your call.

      11 November, 2013, 9:17AM


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