Crash Into You

Of course, there are moments when you are missed.

Flickering, shuttering, moments…when I see you in the lines upon my face.

Had you held a more sturdy hand…I would have worn less leather…more lace.

I beg for you now, as I had many years before.

The offering of ‘us.’

The magic of father and daughter and the confines of a normal culture.

Morals and majority could never have lived in our home, sweet, home.

Knives and threats were the beliefs in which WE all felt sure…and unsure.

These heroic days that come to pass…feed on every ounce I own with a fervent sign telling all, do not trespass.

To the living and the not so…just another day in which I hope to not crash.

Whether the Weather

Whether not the willow

the fiddler

or,

the fall.

Whether within reach of…

the library

the cross in the hall

or

the papers

that paper the wall.

Either a big city under heaven’s hood.

Or,

a shack in the woods.

Either kind-hearted

or,

prone to damnation.

Whether it is unimportant to

you

or,

meaningful to

me.

Weather is not what it

used to

BE.

Kindness and Dignity

For what it is worth

I see you when I climb the stairs a midst stark twilight.

Your dauntless task given unto an endless flight.

A vision of tolerance and safety.

Kindness and dignity.

A shimmering arc focused on what is here.

A dark side to what is not there.

Can you fix me?

Whiling the while…

cradling ‘of unknown origins’…above the street?

Rest assured I’ve cleaned hell.

It left me in a

‘poor me’ spell.

Days, months, years…

stuck in the glare.

Rummaging in the attic…

drunk and blind…

looking for a purpose, a meaning, maybe a sign.

Now, feral moon, as time becomes,

a whimper and a whim…

As life goes bump in the night…

as it often will.

The dark shadows, the bolted attic door, the childish folk lore’s…

beg the question, once more.

What is IT out there?

One step down from the top of the stair?

IT used to be the monsters sight unseen.

Sometimes, I know, as I do now,

IT is only in a dream.

Don’t Panic

To me…there is the possibility of

fear…

fear of what is known

fear of the unknown.

To me…there is the possibility of…

strange thoughts submerged in routine.

Always an angst devil looking over my shoulder…misinterpreting what I mean.

A heart so full it reaches into the throat.

Tranquility resides nearby…but never takes off her coat.

Panic, panic, say what?

Don’t panic, don’t panic…

the only words that I can breathe.

I look inward to a wild rose bush with thorns…

the beauty does not relieve.

I really, really, really, like you!

When I say it’s you I like, I’m talking about that part of you that knows that life is far more than anything you can ever see or hear or touch. That deep part of you that allows you to stand for those things without which humankind cannot survive. Love that conquers hate, peace that rises triumphant over war, and justice that proves more powerful than greed. ##Mr. Rogers

Bill’s Poem

His eyes…placid and dauntingly, deep.

His mold…a bit of chubby rounded with strange feet.

He looks to me as being…the one.

Both of us know…the one chance in hell…happened out on the street.

He and I just part of a peaceful retreat.

Bill knows with reserved, self preservation, as far a human goes…I am not inclined to mystique.

I will bow down again, again and again, to the keyboard that soothes my song.

I will crouch even lower to feel that I belong.

Belong to Bill’s world…full of thought and no regret.

And, cat friends I have not yet to meet.

What is Luck Anyway?

Who’s luck is it anyway?

Mine or yours…or, does it really matter?

Truth be told…it is all speculation,

living in the middle with all its,

pomp and circumstances and…

trepidation.

I hear the echo of your words,

“it all seems a little shaky!”

Perhaps, it is the lack of oxygen.

The thinning of the air.

The mocking of the birds.

That makes that statement seem…more or less absurd.

Swimming

Darkness is a local swimming hole

I glide in and out of it everyday.

Delving about in my art…

exposing bits and pieces of my soul.

And, I flounder in my anger…when I do so.

I account for mistakes like lily pads that have gone astray.

I bargain with hopes and dreams…as though they were in rhythm with the waves.

A dance routine shown to less than a handful.

As stark New Hampshire waters pillage in my depth…I know I must not standstill.

Such A Night

Rest In Musical Peace

… over the course of a remarkable life and career, he evolved. From addiction to three decades of sobriety. From sordid escapades as a dealer and pimp to Disney soundtracks and the model for sleepy-eyed, jive-talking Muppet musician Dr. Teeth. From hometown outcast to one of its most outspoken advocates and beloved characters.
read more at:https://www.theadvocate.com/new_orleans

PG Insults

My favorite insult minus the ‘swear’…

When was the last time you had sex?

Usually this offered up to an elderly lesbian wearing peds with kittens on them…directing traffic during the fourth of July parade in Provincetown.

Some other ‘digs’ without the potty mouth?

Bless Your Heart – given when someone tries to dress out of their age group

I have neither the time or the crayons to explain this to you

Out that many sperm…you won?

You’re like god spilled a person

You’re a gray sprinkle in the rainbow

You dress like you came from a donation pile

And, my personal favorite…maybe you’d have a better chance with the heterosexuals!

the Rabbit Died!

Little by little our rights are being exported to other countries. Countries we, as Americans, touted as, backwater, backwoods and backwards. Pro Choice? Pro Life? Pro…Do the Next Right Thing…is ebbing away.

So, you take a woman’s right to choose away? So, you take gay rights away? So, you take the environment away? Bit by bit, little pieces of Me/US gone!

Unwarranted Wiretapping

Detention without Provocation

Surveillance Society (  a rapid expansion of data collection, storage, tracking, and mining)

I am not prepping for ‘doomsday’ but…I am concerned about the state of living in America.

https://www.aclu.org/
https://www.aclu.org/blog/privacy-technology/medical-and-genetic-privacy/who-controls-our-genes-congress-deciding-right

Something About Mary

As ravished as the house had been, being within made me feel less broken.

The overgrown grass, sporadic dead spots on the lawn…it spoke to me of being alone with my thoughts.

Maiden Mary would greet me with her loose ways.

Twisted as she was, she encouraged me to come out of the big book and play.

Years strolled pass and Mary stayed, solidified to those that pray.

And, though she had wished me to always be well. Through her painted on tears…I could tell,

Mary had been living in a personal hell.

Could it have been that we both had were under a broken spell?

I See Dead People

I have a cat that should have been an extra in ‘the Sixth Sense.’ She runs through the house on a daily basis, darting from shadow to shadow. Jumping at light beams that dance on the ceiling. And, once, she alerted me, by ducking down, low to the ground like a POW…to the fact that mirror-ball’s have mystical powers.

Therefore, the following, not necessarily the news, story…does not surprise me.

Have you ever felt the hair on the back of your neck stand up? Or maybe felt a strong presence near you? Your pet may feel and even see the same thing. As we’ve discovered, cats have very powerful eyesight. They can see in low lighting thanks, feline’s possessing six to eight times as many light-sensing rods as humans.

Recall a time when you noticed your cat staring tensely towards a seemingly empty space or spending a suspicious amount of time around one particular spot in the house.

It’s likely that your cat is sensitive to a concentrated amount of negative energy and is attempting to protect you and your home from possible infiltration by evil spirits and ghosts.

This is because cats bear a uniquely powerful aura, also known as an astral force, that works to repel negative energy.

It is possible that this negative energy remains left over from some traumatic experience in the past before you came to live in the home, or the entity could come from outside the home and try to force its way in.

The cat serves as a valuable line of defense for you and your loved ones by attempting to trap the evil spirit in its powerful energy field and lead it out of the house.

Be sure not to disturb your cat if you notice that it is purposefully wandering around your house.

Cats are skilled at discerning the intentions of astral entities and could be following some source of negative energy in the attempt to ambush it and remove it from your immediate environment if it senses a threatening aura.

My suggestion? Next time you are looking to rent a new apartment or perhaps, buy a new home…release the pussy!

Small Pleasures

Agriculture is our wisest pursuit, because it will in the end contribute most to real wealth, good morals, and happiness…

Diggin in the dirt, awash in green carpet, tryin to find where I belong.

It is clear, through the snorts and whistles, I am not a contender.

Just a sloppy pretender!

And, if I stand very still, scatterings of flies thwart my will.

Diggin in the dirt to find where I belong.

Bathing in tranquility,

basking in my own glow.

Silly swine cannot be wrong.

Moving the earth, as they do, in such a modest fashion.

Dog’s Playlist

People let me tell you ’bout my best friend
He’s a warm hearted person who’ll love me ’til the end
People let me tell you bout my best friend
He’s a one boy cuddly toy, my up, my down, my pride and joy

Fancy Kisses

If I had made this bed alone

There would be no scent of baby powder and spice.

There would be no looking both ways.

I would not have learned to roll the dice…twice.

If I had made this house, cedar and stain, log cabin frame, without its dame…I would still be dwelling in discord’s refrain.

In the morning, between the static and the reprieve, when it is easy to not believe…I ponder such vacant thoughts.

After all you have made me a vagabond to your ways.

Through routine I am grounded in the games we play.

Had I made this bed alone

pillows, solitary and too crisp.

I would have never fancied your kiss.

Humping!

A day at the dog park or rural trail can often poise a problem when encountering others with your dog/dogs:

Why does my dog hump? And, how can I get him to knock it the fuck off?

  • Like play fighting, play humping can be a completely normal and acceptable behavior between two dogs as long as it doesn’t upset one of the dogs. Some dogs play hump each other back and forth, and everyone is fine with it. Some dogs simply enjoy humping. Make sure to break it up if one of the dogs seems annoyed by the humping. Training may be useful in decreasing the frequency and intensity of play humping.
  • Sometimes it’s one intact dog humping a spayed or neutered dog. Females hump too, and it may or may not be sexual in nature. When a dog humps objects or people, it might be a form of masturbation. Having your dog neutered or spayed may help with the problem, but be aware that dogs may develop the habit of humping before they’re altered and continue it afterward.
  • Usually, however, dogs aren’t emulating mating behavior when they hump. Nonsexual arousal is more likely to provoke a dog to hump. It’s just a way for the dog to burn off energy or relieve stress. Some dogs bark, some run or jump, and others hump. This is normal for many dogs. If the behavior is frequent, training may help by redirecting your dog to another outlet for its excess energy.
  • Humping could be a sign of a urinary tract infection.
  • Neuter, neuter, neuter! This is a given! We are a lesbian household. Thus, every male has had a pediatric spay.
  • Catch the little shit in the act and shout, stop, down! Behave like the distressed and psychotic parent you are.

**Like that ever works

There are many embarrassing things I do…that I’m sure my dogs, secretly, abhor. Such as, calling them ‘sweetie’ in front of their friends at the dog park. Or, kissing them on the head in public.

My dogs hump! That’s right, I am the proud owner of humpy dogs. And, my own research explains exactly why dogs hump. Hump each other. Hump me. Hump other dogs. Hump strangers. Hump cows.

Dogs hump to get back at us, their so called, best friends.

http://www.aspca.org/pet-care/general-pet-care/low-cost-spayneuter-programs

Lilac by the Barn

I am but a bystander who has praised words of woe and purity. And, I have tried tampering at the landscape! And, I am unwilling to give up on a valiant fight.

These Lilacs that espouse only once a year. These Periwinkles of cascading yearly trials. These Lavenders, offspring to the garish New Hampshire late winter weather, confuse and excite all the same.

I wish to only hold these thoughts but once a year. As a Lilac comes slowly, leaves quickly. Its romance lingers on aesthetics and colorful fear.

Plotting and potting, the toil, I say this quickly. For with earnest steps the springtime will go.

Learn to breathe again…

and…

never hold love against the old stables and fresher flora.

In the depths of all vanity intertwined, such as, vines to a tree…

I promise to embrace your beauty as fleeting as it may be.

Once Bitten, Twice Shy

Why Do Cats Bite?

Here are the scientific reasons:

  • they are in pain
  • the are into aggressive play
  • defense and offense
  • love bites and petting

Now those are some obscure scientist’s life long research thoughts. Research done with data, one on one observation and number crunching. All of which is just wonderful and nice. However, these scientists never owned a cat and does not wish to add personal thoughts.

I am not a scientist. I went to a liberal arts college. I have owned cats (or, I should say, they have owned me) for many, many, years. Here are my thoughts on why kittens and cats bite:

  • Cats bite us because we are intrusive.
  • Cats lash out at their one true love, the human, because the shitter is not immaculate.
  • Cats secretly sharpen their fangs at night…while we are asleep…for the simple reason…they want the upper hand.
  • Cats lash out when we poke the puppy ( a saying from my house of woes.)

Poking the puppy is a blanket term. To poke the puppy/cat/kitten…

The human witnesses their animal friend, sleeping, snoring, casually chasing a headless chipmunk. The human is so overwhelmed with the feline’s cuteness. So transfixed are the two legged buffoons. So in awe at the one and only chance to ‘spaz’ the cat out…the human lashes out…poking the cat in the belly.

Let us be honest here. Poking the puppy and/or cat is similar to Pavlov’s dog. A piece of sweetness is dangled in front of us. It is furry and purring and being the Cat god they are. Alas, the human will go back every time for a ‘poking’ because the untold results are just too adorable to pass up!

Local Girls

Forested farmland
Field of greens
A vision that sought me out while on a comforter of limes
And, with a poking elbow attack, I could tell that I had bothered the local girl
It would appear that my smokey indulgence went into overdrive.
Had not the ceiling opened up and the walls curled.
I would have considered the world flat…not circular.

I have had daffodil dust moments before.
But when I discuss this in plain sight…
This foreplay bothersome for local girls
and
I am banished from sight.

He Had Courage

There were many who went in huddled procession,
They knew not wither,
But, at any rate, success or calamity
Would attend all in equality.

There was one who sought a new road,
He went into direful thickets,
And ultimately he died thus, alone;
But they said he had courage.

Stephen Crane

My Analyst Told Me

Twisted/Annie Ross Annabelle Short / Wardell Gray

Mae West/Diane Arbus photographer

My analyst told me that I was…right out of my head.
The way he described it?
He said, I’d be better dead than live.
I didn’t listen to his jive! I knew all along that he was all wrong.
And, I knew that he thought I was crazy! But I’m not!
My analyst told me that I was right out of my head!
He said, I’d need treatment!

But I’m not that easily led!
He said, I was the type that was most inclined…
when out of his sight to be out of my mind!

And he thought I was nuts…no more ifs or ands or buts.
They say as a child, I appeared a little bit wild. With all my crazy ideas.
But I knew what was happening. I knew I was a genius.
What’s so strange when you know that you’re a wizard at three?
I knew that this was meant to be. Now I heard little children were supposed to sleep tight. That’s why I got into the vodka one night. My parents got frantic, didn’t know what to do!
But I saw some crazy scenes before I came to.
Now do you think I was crazy?
I may have been only three but I was swinging. They all laugh at angry young men. They all laugh at Edison. And also at Einstein.
So why should I feel sorry, If they just couldn’t understand?
The idiomatic logic that went on in my head.
I had a brain…it was insane.
Oh, they used to laugh at me when I refused to ride on all those double decker buses. All because there was no driver on the top.
My analyst told me that, I was right out of my head.

But I said, dear doctor, I think that it’s you instead.

Because I have got a thing that’s unique and new. To prove it I’ll have the last laugh on you! ‘Cause instead of one head I got two! And you know…two heads are better than one.

Diane Arbus/What I do



What to do with a 15 year old…18 pound, Cat

I sit at a keyboard with no letters.

I light a cigarette.

I stare at the venomous screen.

So much to say.

So little pushes through.

So far, I am in the…in-between.

Strong as my back is…built upon years of slaying dragons and their flies.

Far as my gaze can reach…daytime bats, the blue-jays, frolic and distort all that I wish to see.

And, of course, the pitter-patter of a fifteen year old, eighteen pound cat, he knows exactly where my mind is at.

He taunts me like a catholic mother.

Guilt ridden, I am side tracked…insight, will never just hover.

What a show to behold!

Therefore, I always embrace it.

For it is with certainty, recollections will fade…imagery will be less bold.

Of History and Hope by Miller Williams

We have memorized America,
how it was born and who we have been and where.
In ceremonies and silence we say the words,
telling the stories, singing the old songs.
We like the places they take us. Mostly we do.
The great and all the anonymous dead are there.
We know the sound of all the sounds we brought.
The rich taste of it is on our tongues.
But where are we going to be, and why, and who?
The disenfranchised dead want to know.
We mean to be the people we meant to be,
to keep on going where we meant to go.

But how do we fashion the future? Who can say how
except in the minds of those who will call it Now?
The children. The children. And how does our garden grow?
With waving hands—oh, rarely in a row—
and flowering faces. And brambles, that we can no longer allow.

Who were many people coming together
cannot become one people falling apart.
Who dreamed for every child an even chance
cannot let luck alone turn doorknobs or not.
Whose law was never so much of the hand as the head
cannot let chaos make its way to the heart.
Who have seen learning struggle from teacher to child
cannot let ignorance spread itself like rot.
We know what we have done and what we have said,
and how we have grown, degree by slow degree,
believing ourselves toward all we have tried to become—
just and compassionate, equal, able, and free.

All this in the hands of children, eyes already set
on a land we never can visit—it isn’t there yet—
but looking through their eyes, we can see
what our long gift to them may come to be.
If we can truly remember, they will not forget.

Lived in the Fray

I have learned to be…

smacked down

shut down

thrown down

put down

that is where I place a frown.

I have learned to…

look up

be different

speak my mind

look for my own interpretation of kind.

Listen to what I say…

do not hold hate

do not plan to act on a different date

I maybe nearing the end of a frayed rope…

but even with all these splits ends…

LOVE must be the only message that I send.

Everyday People

Hate crimes on the rise! Homegrown terrorists…on the rise. Hate speech from our elected officials…on the rise. Children who are more accustomed to having their heads in the wi-fi sand than in a physical book, on the rise. The list goes on and on and on.

We should not be at a point in this nation where witnessing acts of pure, unadulterated, disdain, with our morning coffee…is commonplace.

Cartoons of particular notions not being televised because it may disturb the family balance.

https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2019/may/21/arthur-gay-wedding-banned-alabama-public-tv-same-sex-union

Children being torn away from their parents and placed in nothing more than 2019’s version of concentration camps.

And, so it goes?

Possibly!

Now our elected officials have up’d their game! And have come up with a new and improved manner in which to show off the vulgarity of hate!

The Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) has announced plans to roll back Obama-era protections for transgender people who are experiencing homelessness. The change would allow shelters to turn people away by claiming a “religious” exemption.

So-called “religious freedom” exemptions have become popular with the religious right as evangelicals attempt to use it as a license to discriminate against LGBTQ people and women. The federal law was not intended to be used as a get-out-of-jail-free card for civil rights violations.

Christianity is based off the belief that Jesus Christ was a benevolent savior. He repeatedly taught that his followers should help the homeless and destitute without judgement. That would be the opposite of what modern evangelical Christians seek to do under the law.

Trump administration will give homeless shelters the right to turn away transgender people

read more at :LGBTQnation.com

The change would allow shelters to turn people away by claiming a “religious” exemption.By Bil Browning Wednesday, May 22, 2019 

I tell what should be on the rise…Everyday People saying something! Everyday People who do not like what they are seeing.

What is that saying,

If you see something that’s not right! Say something!

I am no better and neither are you
We are the same whatever we do

Life Seems Jolly Rotten

I like a good, wah-wah! I do it often! I wave it about like the human right’s flag that is attached to the helmet trunk of my moped.

  • I’m tired
  • I’m too old for this shit!
  • I know you have a headache! But its been almost a month!
  • My tattoo’s are sagging!

On and on, and on and on.

For a small example, I offer up yesterday…and, bits and pieces of today!

My wife drove on a semi flat tire with ‘my car’…it immediately went beyond flat and the hubcap fell off. My dog, my buddy, tore his ACL! As if that was not bad enough. Life went on and after surgery, the Doc texted me and said,

‘Bogie, has Lyme!’

Eventually, after the cow manure and dust settled, we took my wife’s car to pick the dog up. By this point, I had the car towed for an exorbitant amount of money. By this point, I slipped in dog shit scattered about the yard. By this point, I had attempted to steady myself from fallin’ from said, dog pile…and, put my hand in cat vomit.

By this point!? I had found myself willing to offer up several, Hail Mary’s and the rosary!

Eventually…after the day from hell. We got in the wife’s car, a very beat up Volvo with a half a million miles on it, and the only light that on?

Urgent, urgent, transmission service needed!

WTF!

Now, I am a fan of sayings. Such like the ones in gold and blue velvet placed on the walls of AA meetings.

  • Pain is the touchstone of spiritual growth
  • Be part of the solution, not the problem

And…the saying/quote I always love to despise!

  • Fake it till you make it

Fuck that!

I am a non functional, politically incorrect, cynical, Buddhist! Therefore, I do not always practice what I preach.

But…

After a journey into New Hampshire’s deep seated beauty: Emerald greens, Canary yellows, Cardinal reds and Indigo Girl’s purple…I came to!

I came to realize that…

I have a moped. And, even if it appears I have no way in which to maneuver around a rural area…in actuality, I do.

So, screw you bad day…

‘If these bad incidents you offer are the worst things I encounter today! My day is not that bad!’

Bright Side of Life

-Eric Idle

Cheer up, Brian.
You know what they say;
Some things in life are bad,
They can really make you mad.
Other things just make you swear and curse,
When you’re chewing on life’s gristle,
Don’t grumble, give a whistle,
And this’ll help things turn out for the best, hey,
Always look on the bright side of life,
Always look on the light side of life,
If life seems jolly rotten,
There’s something you’ve forgotten,
And that’s to laugh and smile and dance and sing.
When you’re feeling in the dumps,
Don’t be silly chumps,
Just purse you’re lips and whistle,
That’s the thing.
And, always look on the bright side of life,
Always look on the right side of life,
For life is quite absurd,
An. death’s the final word,
You must always face the curtain with a bow,
Forget about your sin,
give the audience a grin,
Enjoy it, it’s you last chance of the hour.
So, always look on the bright side of death,
Just before you draw your terminal breath,
Life’s a piece o’ sh*t,
When you look at it
,
Life’s a laugh and death’s a joke it’s true,
You’ll see it’s all a show,
Keep ’em laughing as you go,
Remember that the last laugh is on you.
And, always look on the bright side of life,
Always look on the right side of life,
Come on, Brian cheer up,
Always look on the bright side of life,
Always look on the right side of life,
Worse things happen at sea, you know,
Always look on the bright side of life,
I mean, what do you have to lose?
You come from nothing,
You go back to nothing.
What have you lost? Nothing!
Always look on the bright side of life.

Thoughts on Happiness

I walked over and looked closer at the statue of the goddess. She was wearing a headdress with a skull and a cobra and a crescent moon. Maybe this is what peace of mind was all about: having a poisonous snake on your head and smiling anyway.

Wally Lamb

Accept what people offer. Drink their milkshakes. Take their love.

Wally Lamb

If you can’t make it better, you can laugh at it.

Erma Bombeck

In two decades I’ve lost a total of 789 pounds. I should be hanging from a charm bracelet.

Erma Bombeck

It is better to be small, colorful, sexy, careless, and peaceful..

Tom Robbins

In the end, perhaps we should simply imagine a joke; a long joke that’s continually retold in an accent too thick and strange to ever be completely understood. Life is that joke my friends. The soul is the punch line.

Tom Robbins

Holding Hands with Madness

Tell me,

Would you understand if we did not hold hands today?

Loving would be simpler, if I did not stumble over the words…I am afraid to say.

You see, the madness pepper sprays the sanity.

The sanity…handcuffs honesty.

Honesty in the end, uses her nails, sharp as a coyote’s pointed tooth, to pull wallflowers off the wall.

You see, I am not feeling myself today.

Something, I am sure you already knew.

Madness is just something I go through.

Life’s Coloring Book

Life fades as if a watercolor sunrise

purple and blue, crying together

red and orange infuse onto green’s meticulous tapestries.

An iron wrought with delicate seams.

Imagery that never quite becomes…caught.

Chasing the tail of struggles for what is not always sought.

All of the above, coloring book fights that have been previously, fought.

A spectacle of speckles and freckles within the calamity of just one thought.

It would not matter the words I shout, groovy or sick, to the patchwork hills.

Indulgence, demons and reprieve, a masquerade of cheap thrills.

Walking in Sharp Sand

An inter-sanctum where I live…
not for you
or
you
or
you
to forgive.
Platitudes and platitudes of discourse
I cringe, though not a one will know
The gifts you’ve given come with an interpreter’s silent force.

Hell’s yard sale from below.

One that marks another in brotherly love of those who remain…
with often a valedictorian refrain

I could hold your hands from outside the wired gate
When those above us reflect on human quakes.

To you,
to others,
I am but a precious mistake

Pageantry for Hate

You asked, ‘I do not understand…this pageantry for hate…’

And, more so, I heard the question…’really?’
As if, in disgust over how peace could be what I may have been feeling.

In an instant, the night raged on…doubt deep.

My fitful sleep…to keep.

Thus, I had lingered on your words today.
Watching as the roots, the limbs, the earth…felt the anger of our decay.
Avenging angels dressed up in their poetic make believe.
Babes with pacifiers, made of leather and recycled politically correct discussions.
Nibbling little infants feeding on store bought garden variety weeds.
Oh, the young, filling the void not the need.

Drifting back from the path in which I came.
The grove of 3 leaf clover, recoiled and fluttered
Nature blew about your sake, your self sanctimonious title…your fiery heart’s name.

My footing wavered over stone and ledge.
Focus, on good, focus, focus…
I began my pledge.

Death is spoiled on the old…or, so I am told.
Perhaps, I am just beyond bold.
Yet, I could not shake what might be easier if displayed.

Storms set deep inside the soul.
Rumbles of angst upon the horizon.
Wolves parading in opaque fur.
Screams in the night awaiting to be heard.

All of this and more, my dear.
As humiliating as stumbling down a wooden path.
Old and used…forgetting where you began at.
Wasted energy
Letting bad karma take the lead…
down a road of… nature’s way of showing off our misdeeds.

Lying and Dying

There are lines to this scarcity.

Hidden obstacles filled with joyless doubt.

Now that I am in…the dead air is coming out!

A covert world we all must go thru…

and, the question remains…

‘Will I have the courage to go without you?’

The grass beaded with dew and the…aromatic earth…

does not quench my soul as it used to.

Lying and dying have become art forms.

A certain style giving unto…laughing…crying.

Courage in the blinding light of day can whisk the unthinkable webs away.

Nonetheless, the night…with its sporadic fits of sleep…

Still begs for valor’s retreat.

Trouble Maker

Trouble, the further, the faster, I run from it…

the closer, dire straits and her finish-line.

Some of us, much more maniacal, by design.

Some of us, inherently, stick our big toe in questionable mud…just to draw the line.

Some of, masons in glass trailer parks.

Base ass, tossing rocks.

god may not give with both hands…but trouble certainly does!’

the Cure/Pictures of You

I have been looking so long at these pictures of you…that I almost believe that they are real. I have been living so long with my pictures of you…that I almost believe that the pictures are all I can feel. Remembering you standing quiet in the rain as I ran to your heart to be near. And, we kissed as the sky fell in…holding you close. How I always held close in your fear.

Remembering you running soft through the night. You were bigger and brighter and wider than snow and, screamed at the make believe. screamed at the sky. And, you finally found all your courage to let it all go.
Remembering you falling into my arms. Crying for the death of your heart. You were stone white! So delicate…lost in the cold. You were always so lost in the dark.
Remembering you…how you used to be. Slow drowned…you were angels. So much more than everything.

Hold for the last time then slip away. Open my eyes. But I never see anything.

If only I had thought of the right words. I could have held on to your heart. If only I had thought of the right words…I would not be breaking apart…all my pictures of you.

There was nothing in the world
That I ever wanted more
Than to feel you deep in my heart
There was nothing in the world
That I ever wanted more
Than to never feel the breaking apart
All my pictures of you

Natural Drunkard

This constant search and agreement that the road carries on.

This bond with nature is bittersweet.

A constant gnawing.

A scratching at an evergreen door.

And, the earth fine as elderberry wine.

Another indulgence that never quite wets…my lips.

Such a drunkard am I!

I drink in the rainbow of flavors with a guzzle…not a sip.

An inebriated understanding…I am so small.

Mother Nature, the only beverage I drink in.

A seduction to which it is certain…I will fall.

iKuddle Litter Box?

I have had many cats over the years. Each one of them have been fastidious in their…potty routine! I took a survey among the felines that live in our happy abode, current day and the response was the same.

“Momma, that funny looking, motorized, cabinet…scares the shit out of us!”

Perhaps, that is what the product was designed to do!

Box of Vows

I discovered my vows in the bottom of a box

Scribbled, smooth as silk….yellow, red, purple…

the words,

of love and such.

With tannery hands,

I brushed away the

cobwebs.

I gently blew away the dust.

Endearment’s endeavors had been so young…way back when.

Impasse coupled with miracles…a constant friend.

Years of having worn my heart on my sleeve…lavished me in self proclaimed, misery.

It is only now, by virtue of, love’s vows…

I see the greatest gift of all.

‘You have taught me to take life less seriously.’

the Elephant in the Room

Laugh, I tell you
And you will turn back
The hands of time.
Smile, I tell you
And you will reflect
The face of the divine.
Sing, I tell you
And all the angels will sing with you!
Cry, I tell you
And the reflections found in your pool of tears –
Will remind you of the lessons of today and yesterday
To guide you through the fears of tomorrow

##Suzy Kassem

Home, Hostile, Home

Home!

Funny, odd, queer, with its anger.

Ham fist-ed jokes never given in moderation.

Games of…

monopoly…no dice.

Frisbee’s tight lipped and tainted black for playing at night.

Puns? A lead pipe to encourage all players to…think twice

The, I Was Only Joking, trophy, next to Home, Sweet, Home, place-mats, to adorn the holes in the wall.

Mad Jester, the biggest joker of us all.

Pastime of full contact Slap Jack.

Paperbacks left in the rain.

Simon Says, it is a never ending riddle.

Wisecracking those who wish to remain sane.

Beaver Chew

Hot are the embers to my open eyes

Always as I await

grounded turkey’s looking for flight

fist-ed fiddle-heads and ferns, as they unleash their plight.

I await

methodical cow

browsing turtles.

I await for life to cross Shingle Camp Road.

Even though, infinitely, critical of how I am smitten…

I anticipate.

I listen.

Attempts are plain…

the beaver’s chew

the No-See- Um’s bleak journey for flowers…old and new.

I abide the noisy splendor of live free or die.

All creatures, great and small, renegades when movement collides.

No See Um’s? A minute bloodsucking insect, especially a biting midge.

Cat Vs. Dog

The Dog had been forlorn-ed…as of late. He had been made sooty from rolling in the spring mud! Mud that held a similar odor to…damp socks kept in a glove compartment with an open Slim Jim.

People were avoiding the Dog. With his jowls hanging lower than low, his royal heritage waving good bye in the winds of fresh laid manure…the Dog had no choice but to turn to the wise one!

Sauntering up to the Cat with all the pride of a winning scratch ticket that went through the wash…

“What is righteousness? I seem to have lost the compass on that one!”

“If there is to be pureness of heart! It should not matter your coat looks like it came from the dime store!”

spoke the Cat.

The Dog hung his tongue about the outside of his muzzle in such away…anything edible would be collected. He pondered the Cats assumption and asked…

“What about beauty? All those pedigrees down at the dog park…quaffed, manicured, wearing fancy collars! They strut about with the grace of a well hung Great Dane!”

“Worry is unnecessary! Character and strong constitution builds harmony in the dog house!”

“This harmony…can I buy it at Chewy.com?”

The Cat has held much patience with the Dog. She always had…from kitten-hood to senior living, she had tolerated the Dog and his waggish behavior.

“When you harvest unity everyone, two legged and four…will find peace within and peace in the world.”


But…the Cat had more to pass along to the Dog…more wisdom, more tranquility…more grooming techniques…

“Let me put it as politely rude…as I can…”

‘the Dog who knows and knows that He knows…is a wise dog. The Dog who knows not and knows not that he knows…is a fool at the dog park.’

But the Dog had not witnessed the Cat’s last pearls of wisdom. As he is easily distracted and went about his business…rubbing his nastiness all over the newly purchased couch.

What Would Mother Teresa Say?

Now the reason we’re here…as man and woman…

Is to love each other

Take care of each other

When love walks in the room…Everybody stand up! Oh, it is good, good, good. Like Brigitte Bardot!

Now look at the people in the streets, in the bars! WE are all of us in the gutter. But some of us are looking at the stars. Look around the room…Life is unkind. WE fall but we keep getting up! Over and over and over and over.

Me and you, every night, everyday. We’ll be together always this way. Your eyes are blue like the heavens above. Talk to me darlings…with a message of love.

Now the reasons WE are here…

Every man, every woman…

Is to help each other

Stand by each other

When love walks in the room…Everybody stand up…

Say, I love you, I love you,

over and over and over!

#Message of Love/CHRISSIE HYNDE

Shoot them!’: Trump laughs off a supporter’s demand for violence against migrants

Head in Sand’s of Cotton

The matters of survival…came minus a note. It arrived with no fanfare…Teasing me…so, perhaps, I would not know it was there. The tactics did not grasp at straws. It was kindred to a hungry, stray dog…giving to a constant gnaw. Eating and thriving …Instincts purposeful and raw. By happenstance, my strategy began under covers. I stuck my head in a sand of cotton. Instead of waking up…I came to. All but the pain had been forgotten. And, thus I began my infinite walk towards survival. Yet, I have never been a fan of the games people play. Always had to do things my own way. Discovering…long ago, when walking alone, there is no deceiving with the faces we portray.

Before the Night Becomes Cold

There was a tomboy…her head filled with doubt.

I see her everytime a screendoor slams.

I offer her vacant lot praises.

Whatever the effort put forward…my help is never wanted…

it is in the manner in which she stands.

In many ways, she and I are one.

Running, hobbling into a fiery orange ball of sun.

Using our play money to pay back all who climbed the paneling…

To all who disappeared to soon.

This rough and tumble, wild and wooly, soul, I grab her at night when does not do as told.

With rustic hands and solemn grace…I attempt to wrap her in flannel before the night becomes too cold.

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