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Saturday, June 8, 2013

Stones and Water

Stones and water often mix,
With seaside drops and ocean drips.
Dried salt, like diamonds gleam,
Facets of mica, also seem.

I see elephants brushing paint.
Never rushing, they sweep and feint.

A day of bright sun becomes a day of white light,
A day for my spoon, which is silvery bright.

Poetry descends, dark photons in a cloud,
I send them back, and make her electrons go wild.

If I tell you what my poetry is, you'll go raving mad.
If I tell you what my madness is, will you promise to keep it in bed?

Mind is craved by soul the way that water needs a bowl,
Soul give worth to mind as coal gives birth to light.

Find this note, don't go this way, I left it here, then got taken away.
Life isn't perfect, fate isn't fair. I'm no more, but I don't care.

Love 'n lust don't share guests,
One is trust and the other arty,
Those who notice, crash both parties.

I keep him locked up, he's pounding my drum.
He wants back outside, to loose his rhythm.

Out west birding on a festive holiday,
I saw wren-tits of family Sylviidae.
True I saw Tits, I saw more than two,
but no bushy tits from clan Aegithalidae!

Tell this knight that if he stops pretending,
you can get right back to hops bartending!

Arjun had a chariot, The best in the Maha battle!
Krishna gave him a ride in it, In spokes that were pulled by cattle!

Like is to Sign, As Metaphor is to Symbol.
I liken Design, As a Door to a Thimble.

With what cold felony, I stole such fire,
Which bold mystery, I so needed to acquire.

Go tell the folks at Netflix, They'll say likely story,
Or you could say your dog likes DVD chips, and tell the truth that's boring!

I knew you in a previous lifetime, You were my previous lifetime gal.
I knew you so well it's frightening, Now you're my present life pal.

Mercury's going retrograde, time to stop writing poems.
Rhyme instead what I paint on pots, in my kiln I'll be baking soon.

A bloodless word has made us tire,
A gutless world that went vampire.

You jumped in deep scheisse, taking tea with Carol's hatter,
Pump up your siz-e, and make that devil madder!

I'm goin' down, had my precious blood!
To another town, to another bed of mud!

To whomever you've barked, wherever you blacked it
Your curses in the dark, will one day be enacted.

Life is a rumble where we all get to fumble
Get out and choose, if you're not wearing your juice!

Religion's a crucible that holds molten and unknown,
Vision that's reducible, into what's golden and forlorn.

My father was a wolfhound, my mother was a terrier,
He would rather run for love, and then come home to marry her.

What's indivisible and isn't named, . . . is fleeing,
But with that deserved name, . . . is seen.

Make yr passion yr passion then yr passion's won't break,
but if yr passion's yr job then your passion won't slake!

Tigers roam the imagination, whales below in dreams.
Birds over fly our nation, we long for what she means.

Human survival is not her game
Even our Bible can't make her tame.

Thought is craved by soul, as water abhors a drought.
Soul gives thoughts to mind, as coal gives watts to light.

As Oceans Tide

Ever since you left my light,
I saw the world in black and white.

The dark you took when you went away,
your heart sends back as sparks today.

Love that Buddha, and that hawk!
What dove he's true to makes me gawk.
That jade gremlin? I'm not tremblin!
He's got no belly, He's made of jelly.

When Raptors fly, over lands and fields,
It just about ruptures, our plans with Israel.

Water brought 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 lines of sweet clover, and stand by to weed.

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

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

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

Every Pharaoh with a harem and a scarab ring,
Dreads the power of the net and the Arab spring.

The sacking of a goalie on account of a howler
Lacks all humanity especially this hour.

Ces cerveaux ne sont pas faibles,
un 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,
And when she balks at words, I eat a Parle G!

If the Higgs boson,
Had the inclination to think,
One might read of quantums,
Written in Higgins ink.

The origins of Easter aren't at all Jesus,
But a goddess named Ishtar, so burn that old thesis!

My son with his stubble, says the world's at peak beard,
Hirsute chins make for trouble, when eating gets weird.

My flask runneth over, with the smell of your skin,
. . . Specific task odors in cuticular hydrocarb-in.

The sources of rhyme cast a bottomless spell,
Of course like the Nile, they pass time by as well.

A message sent, by the 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.

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

I glazed and loaded ninety-nine bowls,
In five days time, the kiln will cool,
Then all these bowls will want some tea,
Poured within to give them souls.

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

What adds but cannot think, then ferments to a hearty drink.

Inspired 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.
As oceans tide, I sally forth.
All your life, then when you goeth.

The death of one great, the cause of what's wild,
Reminds us we're late, to pause for our child.

See actors, sharp on stage, 'Neath clover, dark in shade.
Above them, a ficus forest, 'Neath them, a fawn adores us.

The Wind of Fortune

At riptide in a town that was tawdry and dark
I met an old fish with a guitar made of bark.

Ego loves the fox, sunlight tries the dark . . .
Should we lie down in a forest? Or go to town in a park?

Whether any Euro members mesh,
Germany will take a pound of flesh.
Printed funds from a paper sock,
To buy Grecian homes on a bare white rock.

Medicine or poison, overdone, or done just right .
True I’ve drunk so much, I've almost lost my sight.

Caffeine flows, I pee it away, Poisons created unfortunately stay.
A fair trade from coffee black, Kali’s drink, welcomes me back.

A lofty spire makes a crow come inquire,
And perch to look out below.
The heights of empire shall not equal a flyer,
Such as the most humble crow.

Who from the Crypt does first appear?
The Raven or her Master.
One drinks and feeds, the subject bleeds,
Death comes on so much faster.

I write what I can, and ink what I may,
and think that I'm fluent, in the news of the day.

Five hundred degrees, too hot to open,
Unless you're a potter, crackin' or dopin'.

A poem's a sandwich or an equation solved,
flowing from language, no reason's involved.

If poetry was wed, to symbolic mathematics,
You'd see verbal solutions to metaphysical antics.

Some says fate is history solved,
All that's done, and can't be shelved.

A romantic wander, through the streets of Queens,
Poetic plunder found some Keats of dreams.

When she grants a few more years,
I'll live and rant without frontiers.

Then she tendered blood for paint,
From poetry, a heart that's faint.

She's a mystery, tied up in code,
So much history, forever stowed.

Above the streets, above our tears,
Over all beings, loom all fears.
Horned beasts that trample lives,
The moveable feast of art will die.

Presume as true that those you miss,
will bloom anew with a makeup kiss.

Wherever you've parked, wherever you've backed it,
Your cars in the dark will one day be compacted.

I awoke to the stink of avarice,
that took us to the brink of precipice.

Ordinary life's full of mad dashes.
At the end of our strife we’re burned into ashes.

Shall I fly to the Yucatan, to play on sand while nude?
Though it's changed to black from tan, by all that BP crude.

To a scattered mind, a pile of rice.
Is a soul contained, but reminded twice.

All year I potted, now I glaze,
Got to fire, just one or two days. :)

Fired mud in temoku, A bowl for me, a bowl for you.

Playing Dylan, glaze re-fillin'.

There is one who lives in me . . . both when I dream and when I see . . .

The Wind of Fortune often blows,
Through wings of Ravens and humble Crows.

A stein of Beer, or a glass of Wine?
Germany or France, either's fine.

The wolf of need versus the wolf of love.
Which one to feed and which one to shove.

Grace looking west at the setting sun,
Is placed to show best her prettiest bum.

After a rich meal with fabulous wine,
Regale me with bitchy tales, as I get into Thine!

This firing's an experiment, who knows how it will turn.
That with some accidents, a fire sale after burn.

What hurts me most about vampires feeding,
Are fees for shirts I post to dry cleaning.

One of the problems with feeding on blood,
Are the troubles of sleeping in a coffin of mud.

The clay on this Earth in the not distant future,
Portrays man with some mirth as a planetary moocher.

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