It's nice to vote, but ideal to date!
Some say truth is learning,
Knowledge sits in books.
All young hearts are yearning,
Love's every place I look.
Now the dollar’s going down.
It was supposed to make me rich.
Play me in your rock band,
or drown me in a ditch.
Flights from earth are overbooked.
Returning berths, alas, overlooked.
Slice up onions, stir in meat,
Add hot spices, simmer and steep.
Dice your tomatoes chop up thyme,
Reduce with fire, to the color of wine.
One sad problem,
Of my vampire leanings,
Are stacks in the laundry room,
And down at dry cleaning.
It's never quite dark enough, to make love in a parking lot!
Upon a grey ocean I was struck by the notion,
To look for the almighty one.
Way overhead, dark clouds of lead,
Made space for their old friend the sun.
Sweet angel come to me,
I'll caress your darling face.
Let me call you beauty
Then lie in my arms for days.
That hairdresser working seems very tender!
Imagine her twerking, she'll gladly bend ya!
My soul dwells in valleys,
my mind talks of feats.
My spirit soars then dallies,
my heart just walks the beat.
The Ouroboros circles without fail
In eternal search of his own tail.
This ebony flower you must not miss
It will earned this poet a beautiful kiss.
When I awake and blood won't move
I drink sake to give my mood a shove.
Surplus bacon, surplus gas,
Surplus cars and surplus ass.
A farce in money's making debt,
They'll all loose it, you can bet.
Is Love not favoring thee?
Put a flower on my lingham and then you'll see,
A ritual from the best of Shaman,
Would be your Petal on my Stamen!
They don't teach love in college,
They make you read about it
For the rest of life you barely manage,
To take full advantage of it.
Take note of a philosopher's wattle,
Make measure of a great thinker's shine.
From the treasures of Aristotle,
To the bloats of Wittgenstein.
Trucking water, flying food,
I wonder how to trim my needs.
What lovely change of mood it'd be,
If in you I was planting seeds.
Now I'm a fan, of the hubby of Dianne,
Who no longer takes bubbly baths.
His Jag runs on wine, all very sublime,
Saves a few quid, according to his maths.
Doing naked yoga, I'm craving brut cafe,
Spoon in sacred sugar, to make a good latte.
After a rich meal washed down with wine
Tell me your bitchy tales of nymphos and swine.
How did I meet you?
Let me count the ways.
You sat at my Brooklyn table
And together we ate some grapes.
Love these days is what anyone says,
Not tied to a college or sect.
We're models of clay, made for screenplays,
Our knots are tied for effect
I'll dance your name for days on end,
I don't ever want to stop . .
I dedicate my heart to you, then,
You'll get it when I drop!
On a road through rural Kansas,
I stopped in an old cafe.
I asked for a cup of coffee,
And a piece of pie to stay . . .
What self-appointed deans of Art
Deem to tell us where to Fart.
All that was old,
Or ever could be . . .
Dazzled us with gold,
And dissolved in mystery.
Natasha's to be married on Saturday,
On a boat in Long Island Sound.
I will be there in black tie,
And Natasha will be honeymoon bound .
They say you love smutty stories,
And all sorts of off color jokes.
You use your morning for glories.
Of all the things that you smoke!
What are you cooking?
Let me have a nip,
Then let me taste some nookie,
Sitting in your chocolate chip.
You're a no good you're a louse
I'm throwing sheep at your house.
Hop on over, hop on down
Hop like mice around the town.
Put down that pile, make poetry awhile.
I’ll A-muse you . . . and you a-Muse me . . .
To the end of time we will see.
Every game has rules for playing more
Every pleasure comes with pain
Every gentleman has his whore.
And every footman has his dame.
Girls like boys that are coy with their toys
Boys like girls that toy with their curls.
An ultrasound strobe that vibrates and stuns
Excavates precious dentin and rips out its guns.
Patti scrubbed barnacles from my barques and my frigates,
Dental-ed her floss like she marked to re-rig it.
Aside from the dross, and brown coffee stains
Patti said that my fleet, can start munching again.
I'll not baulk if you're stalking
But if you mock I'll come knocking.
When the rhyme and meter
start getting frothy,
It's time that my feet
begin heading for coffee.
Sometimes mystery shows a face
An enigma with nothing to hide
No questions you can't ask her,
No race to see inside.
You pour from a mountain above,
You descend straight into the bay
I wonder then if your fountain of love,
Is intending to maybe get laid.
Best not pursue fortune,
Wealth or even fame,
Rather just do the things
You can live with by your name.
We all have wants . . We all have needs.
A penny for your thoughts . . A dollar for your deeds.
Some say truth is learning . . That knowledge is in a book . .
I just know my heart is yearning . . . And love is where I look.
I passed through Eden to get to St. Paul.
I drove from St. Peter but Eve didn't call.
I got my self sore, after I done got bold.
I got me some more, had a son, then got old.
Abbreviate pain, claim it don't hurt,
Deviate and abstain and hope I'm not burnt.
Put down that pile, make poetry awhile
I’ll A-muse you . . . and you A-Muse me . .
If see my king around, I'll make my plea
If I poke my queen, will she poke me?
Every lake's a lakeshore, every sea a strand.
Every galaxy a perimeter, every illness a mend.
What undoes what's already said?
How to re-make an unmade bed?
Get beneath covers, slip back in time,
Take out your old lovers, edit out just one line.
Folding socks is easy, though folding bras is queasy.
A panty in hand will make me stand,
But bluejeans keep me needy!
I love such synchronicities,
They demonstrate love's power.
They prove we're just a bunch of bees,
Buzzing around love's flower.
Flights from earth are overbooked.
Returning berths, alas, overlooked.
Slice up onions, stir in meat,
Add hot spices, simmer and steep.
Dice your tomatoes chop up thyme,
Reduce with fire, to the color of wine.
One sad problem,
Of my vampire leanings,
Are stacks in the laundry room,
And down at dry cleaning.
It's never quite dark enough, to make love in a parking lot!
Upon a grey ocean I was struck by the notion,
To look for the almighty one.
Way overhead, dark clouds of lead,
Made space for their old friend the sun.
Sweet angel come to me,
I'll caress your darling face.
Let me call you beauty
Then lie in my arms for days.
That hairdresser working seems very tender!
Imagine her twerking, she'll gladly bend ya!
My soul dwells in valleys,
my mind talks of feats.
My spirit soars then dallies,
my heart just walks the beat.
The Ouroboros circles without fail
In eternal search of his own tail.
This ebony flower you must not miss
It will earned this poet a beautiful kiss.
When I awake and blood won't move
I drink sake to give my mood a shove.
Surplus bacon, surplus gas,
Surplus cars and surplus ass.
A farce in money's making debt,
They'll all loose it, you can bet.
Is Love not favoring thee?
Put a flower on my lingham and then you'll see,
A ritual from the best of Shaman,
Would be your Petal on my Stamen!
They don't teach love in college,
They make you read about it
For the rest of life you barely manage,
To take full advantage of it.
Take note of a philosopher's wattle,
Make measure of a great thinker's shine.
From the treasures of Aristotle,
To the bloats of Wittgenstein.
Trucking water, flying food,
I wonder how to trim my needs.
What lovely change of mood it'd be,
If in you I was planting seeds.
Now I'm a fan, of the hubby of Dianne,
Who no longer takes bubbly baths.
His Jag runs on wine, all very sublime,
Saves a few quid, according to his maths.
Doing naked yoga, I'm craving brut cafe,
Spoon in sacred sugar, to make a good latte.
After a rich meal washed down with wine
Tell me your bitchy tales of nymphos and swine.
How did I meet you?
Let me count the ways.
You sat at my Brooklyn table
And together we ate some grapes.
Love these days is what anyone says,
Not tied to a college or sect.
We're models of clay, made for screenplays,
Our knots are tied for effect
I'll dance your name for days on end,
I don't ever want to stop . .
I dedicate my heart to you, then,
You'll get it when I drop!
On a road through rural Kansas,
I stopped in an old cafe.
I asked for a cup of coffee,
And a piece of pie to stay . . .
What self-appointed deans of Art
Deem to tell us where to Fart.
All that was old,
Or ever could be . . .
Dazzled us with gold,
And dissolved in mystery.
Natasha's to be married on Saturday,
On a boat in Long Island Sound.
I will be there in black tie,
And Natasha will be honeymoon bound .
They say you love smutty stories,
And all sorts of off color jokes.
You use your morning for glories.
Of all the things that you smoke!
What are you cooking?
Let me have a nip,
Then let me taste some nookie,
Sitting in your chocolate chip.
You're a no good you're a louse
I'm throwing sheep at your house.
Hop on over, hop on down
Hop like mice around the town.
Put down that pile, make poetry awhile.
I’ll A-muse you . . . and you a-Muse me . . .
To the end of time we will see.
Every game has rules for playing more
Every pleasure comes with pain
Every gentleman has his whore.
And every footman has his dame.
Girls like boys that are coy with their toys
Boys like girls that toy with their curls.
An ultrasound strobe that vibrates and stuns
Excavates precious dentin and rips out its guns.
Patti scrubbed barnacles from my barques and my frigates,
Dental-ed her floss like she marked to re-rig it.
Aside from the dross, and brown coffee stains
Patti said that my fleet, can start munching again.
I'll not baulk if you're stalking
But if you mock I'll come knocking.
When the rhyme and meter
start getting frothy,
It's time that my feet
begin heading for coffee.
Sometimes mystery shows a face
An enigma with nothing to hide
No questions you can't ask her,
No race to see inside.
You pour from a mountain above,
You descend straight into the bay
I wonder then if your fountain of love,
Is intending to maybe get laid.
Best not pursue fortune,
Wealth or even fame,
Rather just do the things
You can live with by your name.
We all have wants . . We all have needs.
A penny for your thoughts . . A dollar for your deeds.
Some say truth is learning . . That knowledge is in a book . .
I just know my heart is yearning . . . And love is where I look.
I passed through Eden to get to St. Paul.
I drove from St. Peter but Eve didn't call.
I got my self sore, after I done got bold.
I got me some more, had a son, then got old.
Abbreviate pain, claim it don't hurt,
Deviate and abstain and hope I'm not burnt.
Put down that pile, make poetry awhile
I’ll A-muse you . . . and you A-Muse me . .
If see my king around, I'll make my plea
If I poke my queen, will she poke me?
Every lake's a lakeshore, every sea a strand.
Every galaxy a perimeter, every illness a mend.
What undoes what's already said?
How to re-make an unmade bed?
Get beneath covers, slip back in time,
Take out your old lovers, edit out just one line.
Folding socks is easy, though folding bras is queasy.
A panty in hand will make me stand,
But bluejeans keep me needy!
I love such synchronicities,
They demonstrate love's power.
They prove we're just a bunch of bees,
Buzzing around love's flower.
