Number and Rhyme

Nine years passed, we all grew old,
Tears don't last, and neither will gold.
When all is said and gone and done,
Intent is the only song that won.

Enough of this rhyming poetry,
I'm tired of what I hear.
It's time instead I wrote for my eye,
And not compose for my ear.

Every story in words has a particular smell,
Of a plane in the dirt, or a liar from Hell.

To thee on shores of Lake Ontario,

I'd like to see more of your tail yo!

Ancient sword and white napkin sabrage,
De-corks champagne of a by gone age.

The duty of rhyme is for beauty that shines,

The intent of prose? The rhythm of growth.

Romulus seduced a lupine strumpet
Love induced by divine trumpets.
Supine cantua amused a wench.
Remus confused by bovine French.

The nerve of a vampiric satire, 

Babelicious curves which will not tire.

Fake fangs and fights in mud,

Slake my thirst with flights of blood.

Twins, our shoes live separate lives,
They win and lose as husbands and wives.

If Donald Trump should heed the call,
to lie and pee beside his wall,
I’d hate to miss the sound and fury,
Of the Rio Grande filled up with urine!

If I can't write a rhyme, I'll have to just drop you,

With a name set in time of a gal who out talks you.

Tantric experiments in symmetry,
Make limbic merriment, naturally.

Truth's in fabric of shitty media,
Put some tooth in what Kubrick feeds ya.

Hide the truth in plain sight,
prop it up for all to see.
Let it fly like a child's kite,
then you call it conspiracy.

When poetry of youth is gone,

 . . . adultery hears truth in song.

Icarus fell, on wings of wax,

Gold as well, before April tax.

Mathematics of meter and rhyme,

Makes asthmatic all cheaters of time.

Equations with numbers our deeds are encumbered,

By meanings that feed us yet die.

Yogi Yoshi graced my door,
Feet upraised, hair on floor.

'Tis not a perversion to say kundalini,
Made inversions in Santorini!

Thasos Mykonos Santorini,
Yogi Yoshi in a bikini!

Yogi Yoshi in Mykonos town,
Taking poses upside down.

Octopi are free-floating, an achievement worth noting

     Not jellies for crustaceans in hiding.

Forsaken their shells, for intelligence from hell,

     and mastered the art of beguiling.

A residency in poetry would makes tenancy a dependency.
The menacings of sharks at sea brings harmony to the ocean tree.

She's loaded, lit, pilots retiring,
Weather well-boded, and fit for a firing!

Some night when we're feeling fine
After a rich meal we've taken with wine . .
Tell me some tales of gals with young males,
And afterwards I'll tell you mine.

Natasha got married on a tour of the bay,
To a boy who spoke Russian as well as Anglais.
There were artists and critics and writers of reviews
Salmon and shrimp and fancy hairdo's.

A sentence does time, to restore justice of rhyme,

An equation is persuasion: "Take an eon, on vacation."

When I know all Gnossiennes,
. . . Then I'll go 'homme parisien'.
Just a bloke, with poetry,
. . . who plays the notes of Eric Satie . . . .

The alignment's right for sexy poems,
Sized on sight by respectable tomes,
What's struck down, when once on the town,
Is permission to romp as we roam.

Kerbel Space employs fanatics,
to confuse the pace of mathematics.
Cerebral 'g' is same on Earth,
begins the game of denying birth.

Adjust the day with poetry,

Wait to play some Eric Satie . . . .

The gamble's up, minutes are down
Our fables fucked up, the climate's not sound.

Bitcoins say that Gold is dead,

Goldbugs see a craze ahead.

"Don't fly too close!" old Dedalus said,

"You'll die like most in the cold sea like lead."

A dragon speaks with forked tongue,
Sagan will teach that you've been stung,
Musk was read into what went down,
And now he hides like a Martian clown.

Though Natalie writes some poetry,

She knows she's not seen eternity.

Words fall to earth, seeds push up fruit,

The writer gives birth, or hides like a newt.

What heavenly yearning was sent,

All that poetry on Earth had meant.

Naughty Love Bits

A sky diva from Shanghai fell hard from the sky,

Broke just one ankle for which she is thankful !

What flocks of collective nouns,

Infects the syntax of these sounds.

A raft of mallards ready to pluck,

Is no unkindness to a raven’s luck.

As selkies bathing in a coire. 

We’ll doff our skins and wash our ire!

When poetry of youth is gone,

. . . adultery hears truth in song.

Imagine a dandy, who mooches off a hooker,

Candied ginger, with Kambucha and sugar!

One of the ways I'll start counting days,

To get through our time with the weather.

For whatever you say, this won't be just play,

I promise we'll like working together.

In what nether deeps of flesh,

Burn the embers of my wish?

With what feather shall I tickle

What's the spot to make you giggle?

What lips, what a feast,

Torments the fires within my beast.

Who would think one so desired,

Could ever make a man grow tired?

I'll not place blame, nor will I claim,

That menace is just sex by name.

What's the forge, what dread spark,

Urges my midships to embark?

Grasped were facts, of life as it was,
Tasked by acts, of strife between love.

Pain is a whisper that takes a small breath,
From the center of all to a knowledge of Death.

Years of sleeping in northern abodes,
And tears from bug bites on legs and toes.
In winter I got even, when I took my bedclothes,
And that big old mattress, and set it there to froze.

Memory feeds pain, in a heart that is longing,
Reveries a chain, a part of belonging.

If a memory I have is of a lady I tossed,
A century might pass, as I die and am lost.

Tina oh Tina, do send me your pictures,
Supine I now sense the trend of your scriptures!

Diana of Hartford, my true neighbor,
Do come to New Haven to play and then caper!

Leah Kate though not a hater,
Your photo suggests a switch and baiter!

Once I tried to throw out a kiss,
I knew it arrived and did not miss.

On campus a stout of Rooibos and Rose,
A Fynbos is allowed for smokers who grow.

So I knelt by feelings saved,
Dealt by kneeling, got enslaved.

Come to my studio any day,
There I'll feed you my DNA!

Jeanie I'm dreaming of Athens Texas,
I see Jeanie on my weenie in the back of a Lexus!

Kristen Kristen, now I'm listening!

Wild-and-divine likes rhymes by ravenofferings,
Get riled, drink wine, and smoke some mind altering!

Though Carol from the chorus had lowly mores,
I met a pharaoh from Egypt who worshipped Horus!

A profound question from Heather's Tinder,
Is existence a lesson you can't remember?

Yvonne Berry is very caring.
I see beyond what Yvonne is wearing.

The clay on this earth in the not distant future,
Will portray mankind as a planetary moocher.

Get on Yvonne, a new horizon,
Upon you Yvonne I feast my eyes on.

Yvonne Yvonne flaunt and be merry,
Yvonne come on, I want that cherry.

Ashley do flash me or my hopes will so dash me!

On your cam we can barely mesh,
But on the lam we'll share some flesh.

Ashley Ashley is especially attractive,
Tell me Ashley, you sexually active?

The osprey in me does hiss to me, what I wish for free is a fish from thee.

Aarika, like paprika, is a lass that's fiery hot!
Alas Aarika's across America, so sadly we cannot.

Rooibos of Fynbos is tea that is hearty,
Thrives thus with Couscous, to make one less farty.

On these breasts I pour my gravy,
A taste of beans from His Majesty's navy.

Megan I'm beggin', let me give you a peggin'!

First I'll arouse you as we drive around,
Then I'll de-trouse you and we'll go to town!

So I said to Jennifer, of Culver Indiana,
"Will you be my lover if possibly you can-a?"

"Sex is best yes, in the back of a Lexus.

Doris in the chorus has nothing to say,
But Doris won't bore us if she stops by to play.

Yvonne so fair, lies down in the sun,
No bikini line there, Yvonne ain't wearing one!

Back in the nineteen eighties,
While doing cocaine and dating,
We snorted to get high,
through Jackson's right eye,
And listened to Blondie while mating.

In order to be your Tinder lover,
I'll have to win you from under cover!

Adrianna, Adrianna I like that ring!
It makes me daydream, hey what's your thing?

Lauren, Lauren let's go touring'

Bethanie doesn't mess with me;
She bets I'll guess there's a nesting fee.

Alexa I betcha get wet when I text ya!

Coretta Coretta, jump into my Corvette-a!

Erica, Erica, your work is too clerical,
If my love works a miracle do stop being hysterical.

Susu if I lose you 'twill be impossible to goose you!

Bluetooth is local but SuSu is global!

The fishes give kisses of immortality.

The dish that's before yee, is the fish that implores thee.

What eats ends up eaten - that's finality.

Can't Get Enough of that Rhythm

Goodbye snow, frozen ice,
Polar woes bring solar highs.
Now the ocean waves are lapping,
How the city knaves are clapping.

Somewhere in this pile is a sock that matches
If I sort awhile, and make matching batches.

A sock once paired, decreases the job,
Of finding mates, for the sock that's odd.

A sock that's odd, or a sock that's flawed,
May ridicule or blister cause.
Once thrown out, the other will haunt,
Like a lover without any toes.

The twirping of birds, the buzzing of bees,

Makes learning how words are like apiaries.

I remove my shoes to catch the draft,
Of frozen air, whatever's left.

I texted a gal back in school yea,
A Connecticut pal named Julia,
We spoke of love, and the gods up above,
And how money and sex can fool ya.

A digital hug is best on a rug,
but a virtual kiss is a tryst that was missed.

If I kiss that berry in her well,
I'll know the risk of going to Hell!

I dreamt of stars, galaxies above,
The entire Cosmos, and all she wove.

Letters, lines, verses, pages,
In fetters try to learn in stages.
Play on strings, feed the crow,
Tell you things you need to know.

Grab that pencil, open your letter,
Make sure you read it, start feeling better.

When misery and hatred have left the earth,
Will the visibly sacred bring a deft rebirth?

If a memory you have, is of a lady you tossed,
Then a century might pass, as she fades and is lost.

Memory eats, at a heart that is longing,
Reveries a feat, to part from belonging.

Pain is a whisper, that makes a small breath,
From the center of all, to the knowledge of Death.

Grasped were the facts, of life as it was,
Tasked by some acts, of strifes between love.

If a basin of tears means sacrificed love,
What's waiting for fear of devices above?

What militant computers lack in heart,
Diligent suitors hack with art.

Russia's ruble is cheaper than oil,
Yet Putin's shoe-bill is as dear as his girl!

Then and there shards were broken,
Men beware what words are spoken.

Go on the lam until they shoot ya,
Me and my bottle of ole kambucha!

Something's worse than fecal matter,
And that's the curse of legal data.

Lauren Lauren I hear water pouring!
Lauren Lauren it won't be boring!

Paris stumbled, asked if he'd fallen,
Into the formidable crevasse of his dear Helen.

Sharenne, my dream are you carrying?
Sharenne, my queen what are you wearing?

Was the pussy shot a feline shot?
Or a glimpse of crotch just done ad hoc?

Before a tearful yellow dazzle,
Germany scores seven at football Brazil.

The worst is to suffer from an internet fling,
She isn't your lover but hurts like a sting.

Lelia Ophelia, how does life deal ya?

If I kiss the berry in your well,
I'll know the risk of going to Hell.

While he searches, she'll return to him,
A lovers urge for for eternal whim,

I'll pinch those strings and hold them tight,
and with my tongue I'll push all night.

Stroke your doves, let them be shown,
Sex is a bitch who loves to moan.

A shed of stars warps galaxies above,
Where looms a Cosmos and all she wove.

When the question rose what form to turn,
An answer lept forth as from an urn.
Thoughts coalesced, lit into a word,
'Throw a bowl' said the form interred.

Putin gasped in Rasputin's chapel,
"Why falls my ruble, like Newton's apple?"

What builders conceive takes effort to believe,
Starts far from the standard plan.
Though possible to say that blueprints portray
A treasure that one day is man's.

What cries and gnaws, but doesn't hurt?
A lover with fuzz, who makes you work.

On motion'd feet I carry speech,
But when you eat, I've got no beat.
Close by a yard, or ocean waves,
Spoke by a Bard, or Celtic Vate.

What adds but cannot think,
Or ferments to a hearty drink.
Newton's notion of a forces unseen,
Sits between me, and what you're seeing.

What rules, hear howls.
There are wolves in us all.

All the gals that got away,

Are still the ones I hope to bed someday.

Alas our time is running short,

My list grows longer I sadly report.

A quick review of those inspired hussies,

Who flew by my window, and left me crusty.

Many seemed they wanted to nest,

Not enough who wanted good bed rest.

My ego pursues a fox,
Through sunlight and the dark,
Should it happen in a forest?
Or should we do it in a park?

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

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

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

Those warmongers won't take blame,
They want more war for their defense-gate game.

Caffeine goes, peed away,
Poisons generated, unfortunately stay.

What fair trade is coffee black?
Kali’s drink, welcomes me back.

What ominous spire makes a crow inquire,
And perch to look out below.
The heights of empire shall not equal a flyer,
So much as the most humble crow.

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

If the myths of state are history,
Bricks of fate are illusory.

Etsy Pot Poems

"My wife's old man was a guy named Pan,
  He had goat feet and he carried a gun.
  And though he was the clod that made her,
  I never could love that grisly Satyr."

"What keeps time without making sense
  Reminds our life, of the present tense,
  Distracts the mind from flows of fear,
  From deep inside, our eyes might tear."

"The Clown, the Chief, and some of their pals,
  Rode to Laredo to pick up some gals.
  But when they got there Laredo was closed,
  A war had started, and no one had clothes."

"If the gals in the room liked the guys we'll assume,
 Why bunch up in packs with the men to their backs?"

"One fine gentleman demonstrated,
 to some lady friends, then all went native."

"I saw my King down in the town,
  I set off to make my plea.
  If Queen then puts the drawbridge down,
  Will I hang if she takes me?"

"You’ll visit the palace and greet all their souls,
  You’ll give love to the lovers, and top up their bowls."

"I want to go a-birding
  I’ll hunt for the Great Toucan
  In Mexico I’ll be calling,
  Through Jungles of Yucatan."

"Les gens pensent, 'Ils sont mieux!
  On veut danser avec les deux!"

"Some say love's an emotion,
 Others say love's in the head.
 Some complain love’s a commotion,
 And maintain we should keep it in bed."

"In old Mexico, I shared love with a girl,
   in an ruin called Casa Moreños,
Her old family home, of aristocrats gone,
   they served me some Chile rellenos."

"If Arabia's faithful meditated,
  Would Palestine get liberated?

The showers of time spill over to rhyme,
Like a pot fired twice is bound to be nice

"A Buddhist from Iran who followed the Koran,
  Said "Violence forget.it! I'm sitting cross legged!"

"A Boddhisatva sat in lotus,
 At his altar Zen he showed us."

"Three beauties of that continent,
  made moody by our sentiments."

"A Shaman, a Cook, and a Clown
  Looked for women in a faraway town.
  Lacking the knack they took none to the sack,
  And went home after getting turned down."

"When they open up this old clay box,
  They'll find inside some poems that shock.
  Then I learned my family above,
  Put deep inside my memories of love."

 "It's never quite dark enough to make love in a parking lot!"

"A Shaman hunter, while walking in the snow,
 Came across two women, whom he liked but did not know.
 The erotic gals were naked, but weren't all shivering cold,
 'They might be curanderas, why else would they be so bold?' "

"Wearing headdresses, of fur and feather,
 Some dutiful Shamans, got together.
 They met two sorceresses from a foreign tribe,
 And tried to forget their Shamanic vibe."

"High in a palace in old Indonesia,
 There once was a Queen who practiced amnesia,
 She gave up all knowledge in exchange for her vows,
 To meditate on the Buddha without wearing clothes."

"Liquid lines in fires of chance,
  Make flesh shine, and appear to dance."

"After the ball she put in her mask,
  With beaked noses, of lovers past."

"Give up old morays, but when push comes to shove,
 Make some bold forays into temples of love."

"Three storybook critters put on clothes,
  And headed to the city, . . .
  . . . for what reason? Who knows?"

"What keeps time without making sense
  Reminds our life, of the present tense,
  Distracts the mind from flows of fear,
  From deep inside, our eyes may tear."

"Drops that fall are driven by sun,
 Watery thoughts may merge into one."

Buzzing around Love's Flower

One day I'll live in a swinging state!
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.

Muddy Waters and other Rhymes

Muddy Waters' blues is t'wang.
So he taught us, about playin' pain.
Strings is flyin' off his fret,
Sings he's dyin', home in bed.

The strangest sensation for this old train,
Is to pull out pots I saw in my brain,
Or was it in dreams that streamed to and fro,
Entangled by time in dances with snow.

The Death of a great, or the loss of what's wild,
Reminds us we're late, to pause for a child.

One day I'll show motive in a swinging state,
It would be nicer to vote, but would be better to date.

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

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, photons in a cloud,
I send them back, make her electrons go wild.

If I tell you what all poetry is,
 . . . you'll go stark raving mad.
If I tell you what the darkness is,
 . . . can we promise to keep it in bed?

Mind is craved by soul, the way water needs a bowl.
Soul give worth to mind the way 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 you shouldn't care.

Love and Lust are never missed,
You’ll find them both on most guest lists.
One is trusty, the the other arty,
Those who notice, crash both parties.

'Who’s that bunny that laid eggs in leaves?
And that plump little elf who jumps down chimneys?

He stays locked up, and pounds my drum,
He wants outside, to loose a rhythm.

Went west birding on a holiday,
I saw Wren-tits of Family Sylviidae
True I saw Tits, I saw more than two,
But no bushy Tits, from clan Aegithalidae!

Arjun had a chariot, best in the Maha-battle!
Krishna gave 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.

In one bold felony, I stole to acquire,
A cold dark mystery, set in golden fire.

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 lifeline pal.

I see you're a joker, never look at clocks.
Your suit's for a poser, with two colors of socks.

Mercury's gone retrograde,
   time to write some poems.
I'll paint some pots with rhyme instead
   that my kiln will be firing soon.

The bloodless word has made me tire,
Of a gutless world that went 'vampire'.

You jumped in deep scheisse, took tea with Carol's hatter,
That pumped up your siz-e, and made that devil madder!

I'm goin' down, drunk my precious blood!
Towards another town, another bed of mud!

To whomever you barked, whatever you attracted,
Your curses in the dark, are one day enacted.

Life is a rumble where we all get to fumble
Get out and choose and put on your juice!

Wherever you parked, wherever you backed it,
Your farces in the dark, will one day get compacted.

Religion's just a crucible to hold what's molten and unknown,
Vision must be reducible, into what's golden and forlorn.

My father was a wolfhound,
   my mother a full-blood terrier,
He would rather run for love,
   than come back home to marry her.

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

Put cash into your passion, then your passion's always awake,
Make your passion into a job, then your thirst is never slaked!

Tigers roam my imagination, whales bellow in my dreams.
Birds circle our machine nation, so we long for what she means.

If you fashion your passion, then your passion will surely break,

Your crashin' will be fashion, if your passion never slakes.

Human survival's not a biblical game.
Even what's written can't make Nature tame.

Her bitter talk flushed a lie,
Hawked a thrush, in winter rye.

The baby has no memory,
Its Mommy has two mammaries.

Walk to where you walk upright,
Talk to her, who learns from Light.

Go to where whistling sounds are strong,
Listen there for stillness, and Song.

Take a sip of the Housatonic,
Get so sick, too Loose-A-Tonic!

Poetry sets sail with a mast that breaks,
Gets caught in a gale, a psyche that shakes.

So these poems are never done.
The words are rounding, from two to one.

She says what she says and will not repeat.
Unplug your ears and stand on both feet.

Dylan sang a burst, in his apocalyptic brand new band,
Then I heard him drop some words, I wished I could understand.

For sure she's a poet if she called it Sci-fi,
She doesn't know it, it's all about sky!

The neti I bought has an elephant's long nose,
It puts water in my trunk, without a bong or hose!

You say you are my Oracle,
    You say you are my Muse,
Why are you being so practical?
    Why can't you let me choose?

We all showed up at U-Mass,
   there we heard Bob Dylan.
A heap load of blues and bass,
   that really was extremely thrilling'.

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

I knew I had caught her, when she poured that hot water
    and cried two tears in my tea.

Ten thousand visits have graced this page,

'Offers to Raven' has come of age.

Lyrics of joy, torments of rage.

A pyrrhic moment, a passing stage.

Balkan Politicians & Voodoo Economics

Who caused it all? I'm not talkin', 

But it ain't the fault of the subprime Balkans.

Berlusconi can't take aid, from the one and only IMF maid. 

If she was young he might have asked, for bunga-bunga but those times are past.

Greek bonds got weak, German banks got wormy,
thanks to the French the rot stench is germy!

Italian paper's coming down,
a fire-sale in your home town.

Swallow burdock as media medicine. 

Follow Murdoch if you need to jettison!

Emperor Silvio dreads a high rate bond. 

Fate will reveal a dead Euro, conned.

More bears are coming to Italy, 

to gore Berlusconi finally.

What print empire can fuss and strut,
Conspire, sin, say 'sorry' in smut. 

What karma prying into private lives,
Comes to haunt even Murdoch's lies.

Commons is to Murdoch as blank is to bored. 

Amens are encouraged since he won't be called Lord.

Greedy feeding at the trough,
Weeping wives and lovers lost, 

Brooks and Murdoch not enough,
To pay busted lies, and karma tossed.

If Jabba the Hut was really King Tut, and Murdoch was not a vulture,

The case is shut, the PM's a slut, and smut is really just culture.

Is Putin Shootin'?

"Give me the keys, I'll drive you to Karkiv."
"Donetsk for the car, I conniving for Kiev."

"Moscow to Kiev: How far? Don't ask,"
"The keys to Donetsk, just now I must have."

Ukraine will get nastier if Putin crosses the Dniester,

Ukrainians who nest there speak a language that's feistier.

If Putin holds Crimea, Ukraine will not wither,

But if he folds in the Dnieper, you can cry me a river.

This ghostly conflict has no winner yet,

It's mostly fought on the internet.

If Putin were looting and Odessa were not stressed,

Would Obama abstain and leave Ukraine to unrest?

Obama will get calmer - he'll see Putin's not shooting.

Russian supporters gave Putin kudos,

At Ukrainian borders, it's all just judo.

Europe polarizes around old Ukraine,
The soul of mankind got lost on that plane.

If myths of state make history,
Then bricks of fate are illusory.

Will sanctions from gremlins make oligarchs bank-less?
Or wankers in Kiev make the Kremlin at all anxious?

Are Ukrainians settling an old Soviet score?
With Kremlin operatives, and loads of C4?

Shooting started in Donetsk, though how don't ask,
Nato or Putin, not the men in those masks.

The shooters in Donetsk may one day be famous,
If they took off their masks, else they'll stay nameless.

[this post is a mini-blog in rhyme on the Ukrainian crisis. Oldest posts are last, newest first.]

I'll Row you to Komodo

Tired of earthquakes, I'm off to Malaysia,
Less venomous snakes there, I'll smell the acacias.

And if you should dispatch, to Sulawesi,
Study your Dutch goed, then catch the ferry.

Chant Shinto, and make fire with flint-o,
I'll learn Voodoo, and incant like a Hindu.

Tremors in Timor means lava in Java,
Dance rhumbas in Sumba, for folly in Jakarta.

We'll get good food oh yeah, in dear ole Malaysia.

Fetter your feet to my mast my dear Mistress,
Better to beat me, than face a low mattress.

Don a kimono and I'll row you to Komodo,
In Kowloon we'll go saloon, I'll be your dear Frodo.

In my dream you were a succubus,
A demon who worked with an Octopus.
Together we all boarded an Omnibus,
And then rode to town the three of us.

My hopes are to climb, a sloped volcano,
Don a kimono, and row you to Komodo.

There are deer in Komodo, though people don't stag hunt,
There's a queer sort of fear of the resident dragon!

We'll tan yes, it's obvious, if we hike up Vesuvius.
Don't call me a genius, if things suddenly get igneous.

Once we start napping on the peaks of Merapi,
We'll wangle an angle on a rented serapi.

I'll grope your nappies on the slopes of Merapi,

We'll fangle an angle on a dope head's serapi.

Finding this ditty too graphic and corny though?

I'll try to be witty, after we blast through old Borneo.

Tiny poems tend to be volcanic eruptions,
that bring me back to Platonic corruptions.

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.