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Monday, November 7, 2011

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.


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