I'm Just the One

I’m the one you called,
Please drop that aire.
You’ve been around me buzzing,
I see you everywhere.

I see through you always,
Through me to her this way.
So remember when you're calling,
You reach from here to there.

What Leads?

What leads, changes and whispers,
sacrifices she reckons I'll autograph.
Inscribe a figure, encrypt a cipher.
You wonder what on earth's the code.
Keep wondering, earthly beings will never know,
How this universe can be shown,
Which figures to engrave, what ciphers to compute.
You may inscribe a figure, encrypt an epithet,
In your grave you write your ode,
before she takes faith my word,
matter will be interred.
Before her language is fully calculated,
your curiosity will be more than sated.
Don't waste a second,
The puzzles of dreams, must all be reckoned.

You Sit to Write

You keep books, know permanence,

good grammar, logic, common sense.

As a broker gather chips,

and from the pieces, build your ships.

And one day you sat to write,

You saw what backed those eyes.

It went through you, right then right there.

Got caught off guard, by the saddest stare.

She gives you peace?

Dances like Michael, paints?

Cooks, writes poetry, sometimes faints.

Maybe you just aren't through,

Could she have a hold on you?

Duck Pate

 In Marseilles I met Perrine,
 Who made a lunch of fresh terrine.
 The pate seemed a trifle crude,
"Do tell Perrine, about good French food.

 "Our masculine cuisine does love that stench.
 "Are English men so different than French?
"Yes the English take their pheasant rotten,
 "While the French eat birds, just freshly gotten."

Thanksgiving 2011

Entrées:

Mediterranean Olives, Various Colors and Flavors in their own oil

Potato and Pea Samosas with Tamarind

Le Plats Principal:

Brine Roasted American Turkey with Sea Salt, Celery, Apple, Turkish Dried-Apple Tea, Fennel, Juniper Berries

Les Legumes:

Tangy Cranberry Sauce with Orange Peel
Cranberry Sauce with Chipotle
Cranberry Sauce with Jalapeño
Wild Rice with Chestnuts and Dates
Sautéed Broccoli Rabe with Olives
Parsnip Puree with Hazelnuts
Roasted Sweet Potatoes with Cinnamon
Crisp Roasted Golden Potatoes with Native Sage
Garden Zucchini-rice Casserole with Parmesan
Roasted Portobello Mushrooms with Oak Forest Truffles
Bobbies sweet and sour Chutney

Le Salad:

Watercress and Pear Salad with Honey-Glazed Walnuts

Dessert:

Dorrie's holiday Bundt cake w/Pumpkin, Apples Cranberries and Pecans
Bobbie's Chocolate-Maple Pecan Pie
Bobbie's Pear-Apple Mystery Creation
Beinecke Carrot Cake with Indigestion
Georgia Pecan Pie with Ice Cream

Les Vins:


from les caves of J.W.P.

Dancing Girl

On a bench in a dancing hall,

I met a girl, from Montréal.

She could sing, but could not dance,

So she sang of Paris, France.
Duck pate, she said was rude,

But most French food, is generally good.

Frontenac

In Rue Frontenac, in Montreal,

I bought a snack of chanterelles.

J'ai vu une fille, she looked a Queen,
I invited her for coffee, son nom, Ondine.

Arrêt à Frontenac, Sud Montréal,
Ate liver pâté, avec fresh girolles.
J'ai cherche ma Reine, au rez-de-chaussée,
Après, j'ai pris, un petit café.

Nous avons rencontré, une fois de Québec City,

Au Château Frontenac, qui inspire cette ditty.

Elle m'a offert la plus audace Terrine,

Et elle me dit alors,  "Mon nom est Justine."

Chez du Maison Frontenac, à Montréal,

J'ai mange un plat, avec mushrooms alors,

Je cherche ma Reine, à côté du ground floor,

Et après, j'ai pris, un café, dehors.

Encore une fois, nous avons mis à Québec,
L'inspiration pour cette chanson, Chateau Frontenac.
Plus audacieuse, elle m'a donné plus de terrine,
Alas, then she told me her nam, Perrine.

Return to Frontenac, Rue Ontario,
Again I ate plates, of chanterelles.
J'ai trouvé Ondine, sur le terrain-sol,
On a bu deux cafés, après ces girolles.

What do we Mean?

Swirls of coals 'round my fire,
Lashes hold my loosened pupil,
Burning embers, a red snake eye.
In the center, cyclones fly,

Red flames lick the water torrent.
Deep frozen, savage, turbulent.
From the bottom a source of pain,
Rayant stars, are emanating.

What do we say when we say a thing?
Do we exercise a means of praying?

The Print Empire

What genius from the Greek PM,
Threatens geeks with a referendum.
Papandreou’s politics cannot lose,
The populace got the one they choose.

A body's just ash, words can't compute.

   Items for cash, are less to transmute,

Silver can be faked, but tarnishes more,

  Gold remains sacred, an immoveable door.

My chosen destination’s Galaxy forty-four fourteen!

    But I'll have to be frozen, it's parsecs nineteen.

A long way to travel, to seek fortune and fate,

    Traveling at light speed, a sixty-million year wait!

What democratic tool makes for Republican fun,

Targets those ghouls with a memory-lapse gun?

Whose blind spot will likely be next?

Blast at Mitt Romney, he's finally hexed.

Old Mitt Romney fell in the mud,
Our American family all knew he would.

"Was it a Bush, if so which one?

Who got us in Libya, or Afghanistan."

McCain's got a bug and can't remember,

Who did what, since last November.

Swallow burdock as media medicine.
Follow Murdoch, then barf to jettison!

Emperor Silvio dreads a high rate bond.
His Fates reveal a dead Euro, conned.

The bears are coming to Italy,
To gore Berlusconi finally.

What print empire can fuss and strut,
conspire, sin, say 'sorry' in smut.
What karma's in prying private lives,
And comes to haunt even Murdoch's lies.

Commons is to Murdoch as blank is to bored.
Amens are encouraged since he won't be made Lord.

You thought it funny, who threw that foam pie?
Follow the money, and ask yourself, "For whom?" and "Why?'

Mind is craved by Soul, as water likes a bowl.
Soul gives thoughts to Mind, as coal gives watts to Light.

Bad karma keeps on stacking - the PM met NewsCorp on hacking,
26 appointments w/ Murdoch execs, Money does wonders, but can't get respect.

If Jabba the Hut was really King Tut, and Rupert was not a vulture,
The case would be shut, the PM's a slut, and smut, is really just culture!

Raj or Empire, matters not which.
With claws and fire, the Other's a witch!

Sorting socks by color's easy, folding bras will make me queasy.
A panty in hand will make me stand, but bluejeans keep me needy!

On a grey ocean, I was struck by the notion,
   to look for the almighty One.
Way overhead, dark clouds of Lead,
   made space for the blighted Sun.

As I do my yoga, I invoke my symmetry,
I'm read to by my Ogre, in lines of poetry.

Once a father-earner, I did my passive duty,
Now I'm a Nevada-burner, all for sin and booty!

I awake to the stink of avarice,
That shakes at the brink of a precipice.

If it meows or gives milk, it might be a cat,
But if it's a cow or makes silk, it might be a rat.

None of these creatures are found in a park,
One of their features is they glow in the dark!

Lee and Katia so yearn to compete,
Two grizzly bears at the edge of a creek.

Lee the old male, is slow moving and lean,
Katia the lassie is faster, but mean.

What's shows on stage are often just tears,
Thus flows the wage, of softened fears.

When Mother Nature disappoints,
   break out liquor, lite up joints!
Then if Irene is truly fierce,
   grab a Suzy, whoever's nearest!

Noble warriors with beards of grey,
Gave sober memories of that day.

Anders Breivik believed 'Braverie's Kind',
Murderous anagrams dream 'Riverbanks Die'?

If right-wing politics was what he meant,
What terrifying sickness, killing innocents.

When I feel I’m love deprived,
Like a bad trip when on acid.
It'll gets me high to think of your thighs,
And suddenly all gets placid.

A mightier risk than a terrorist bomb,
Is the threat to society from triple A bonds.

Let's chalk up what's going on,
BSkyB talked with Cameron . . .
It's absurd! Did he use his desk?
To help the Murdochs, buy the rest?

Time for medicine, we should all swallow burdock,
It may even work, if we throw up on Murdoch!

What indeed does Murdoch fear?
He turned eighty, could play King Lear.
James the son, his ego's host,
Made a run with his father's ghost.

The audacity of money,
   wherever it roams,
Publicity can be shaving cream,
   from a foam-pie thrown.

This planet's getting so damm hot,
If someone fanned, it would help a lot.

What a gorgeous gift the Sun.
Seduces women,  . . . gets their clothes undone.

The Met chief falls upon his sword,
Should we take the PM at his word?

If not business, what was talked,
In back-door meets and Chequers' walks?

Every fight every scandal has a teflon Don,
So we all light a candle for PM Cameron.

One's a cream, that comes with meringue,
   the other's the dream of the Tea Party gang.

Millions in severance, not fingering her bosses,
Brooks booked by the Met, to control their own losses.

Should the PM pay the price,
   getting infected by these lice?
If NewsCorp's disbanded, or ultimately sold,
 . . . maybe the PM will one day get old!

Dig under Fleet Street, dig up the Yard!
There's a stink from 10 Downing,  . . . they need to get tarred.

A mockery of smut degrades what it touches,
Makes democracy a slut to whatever she hushes.

It's time to awake to a gale of corruption,
The NewsCorp scandal is a full scale eruption!

What prime assets does NewsCorp own?
Scotland Yard helped hack Brit phones,
PM Cameron, Blair and Bush.
Victim's solicitors, paid to hush.

Has NewsCorp paid for its hacking caper?
Sacking execs and closing a paper?

Who hacked the phones of the 9/11 victims?
That's the worry of our legal system.
Did the FBI currie its books,
After the sacking of Rebekah Brooks.

Afula Tikva Arad Acre,
Haifa Givem Baqa
Jat Beta Tel Aviv of Karmiel
Reprieve Jerusalem and Gaza.
Shalom.

NASA's a pawn in the budget muddle,
Magic gone, no more space shuttle.
Astride her boosters white with light,
Atlantis took her final flight.

Victim phones by News Corp hacked,
Sittin' clones of Murdoch sacked.
Cops bribed, funded prime ministers,
Until it stops, decidedly sinister.

Is Facebook by Google doomed?
Two social networks in one room?

How those News Corp hacks abound,
What goes around, backs Cameron.

We tried, 'twas never quite dark enough,
Oh to make love, inside of a parking lot.

Liars of the World will close their paper,
No buyers of news for a phone-hacking caper.

What allegations come from Fox

On July 4th our President mocked,

Not an error, if you know that station,

Not from hacking, or automation.

I drove out west,
And crossed the Mississippi.
On a westward quest,
The effect was kind of Trimpey.

Bedecked with Diamonds

A sutra inquires of my Queen of Hearts,
 . . . Whose mudra inspires my writing arts?

A mudra made for my Queen of Light,
 . . . to dance with Rudra, her King, all night.

What cries and claws, but doesn't hurt,
A fuzzy lover, who makes you work.

A message sent a fire stoking,
What is meant, by all this poking?

I had friends who learned to fly, but when they talked, began to die,
They muttered aloud then heard a call, fluttered about, and began to fall.

When you're painted red as wrath,
Be sainted by my tea-water bath.

She never loved, though I thought she might,
A string of fights all day all night.
She kept my pearls, said not a word.
I lost my girl, my memory blurred.
I shook with fright but never winced.
She's not replied from that day since.

Baked Alaska's cold 'n hot,
What late candidate's bold but not?

One's is cream, that comes with meringue,
The other's the dream of the Tea Party gang.

The road to the Presidency attracts our very best,
Hairpiece from the East, brains from scary West.

Love that Buddha, worship that hawk!
The dove he's true to makes me gawk.

That jade gremlin? I'm not tremblin!
He's got no belly, it's made of jelly.

It's not about Raptors or what fate might be real,
Is about rupture of ties, with the State of Israel.

Water brings pain, from a tyrant above,
He's not stopped the rain, and seems tired of love.

Take all you've assumed, and all you hold dear,
Assume it's all doomed by your innermost fear.

Break out your shovels, take out some seed,
Plant a line of sweet clover, and stand by to weed.

Bedecked with diamonds, collared by pearls,
I'm just rhyming, because I like them curls!

Bernd and I we like the crow, Bert and I's from Down East though.
Birds in Brooklyn? - there are lots! Sparrows, Falcons, Triceratops.

In the air, on the ground,
A hawk will stalk, without a sound!

A Pharaoh with a Harem and a scarab ring,
Dreads the power of the net and the Arab spring.

Ces cerveaux ne sont pas faibles,
On veut manger de ce pain sur table!

Des grandes penses, ils sont mieux,
Je veux dancer avec les deux!

When I talk to her, she's sweet to me,
When she balks at words, eat a Parle G!

If the Higgs Boson, had the inclination to think,
One might read of quantums, written in Higgins ink.

Chartreuse eggs? I like the color.
The question begs: 'Who's the mother?'

I glazed and loaded ninety-nine bowls,
In two weeks time the kiln will be cold,
Then all of these bowls will want tea,  . . . to be souled.

You're messin' with me, and I'm missin' you.
Let's wait patiently, till our moment comes through.

What adds but cannot think, then ferments a lot to a hearty drink.
Inspires a notion of a force unseen, sits between me and what you're seeing?

On motion'd feet I carry all Speech, For when you eat, I cannot Speak.
An Ocean tide, I sally forth. All your Life, and when you Goeth.