Monday, November 21, 2016

The Irvings are Un-nerving...

Seeing with the heart is un-nerving from the start,
when the brain is encased in a pumpkin head.
A jackal lantern will view the world from a logical
conclusion, as the collusives all said. A propo, here's
the world that you think you know. Huh? Say what?
Is it so?

In a linear way we are doomed as the apocalypists say,
we must retreat to the past of a better day and, oh,
by the way, there is this thing called a plausibility
that will get in the way. It's a tower of structure with
mirrors and smoke, leaden windows squared off with
sighs that will choke... a poor believer in a frock coat.

Ichabod, crane your neck when you wake from the winkle,
cider house rules when society tinkles, the wisest of all from
your Tarry-town, where men can ride when no one's around.

Those Irvings are un-nerving, but one thing is sure
if you read 'em you weep for the surely insecure.

A scary world, where the strong of heart is the one to adore.
Oh and meany, you read, and weep, and un-nerve some more.

Wednesday, November 16, 2016

The nightmare on mainstreet

So the little fauntleroy misfit has risen to the top
as a well established businessman, a rather curious
kind of fop... the people have spoken in these auspicious
times where there is no pretense or prettiness that can
manufacture false rhymes... it's just pretense of the times.

AC/DC is well and good and death metal is the shout of should,
oh man, it sucks to be a woman if a woman actually could.

The menfolk are all cozy cuz they knew all along, the the goddess
thing was folly in a crazy mermaid thong, she knows you're right
in being wrong. A sponge can soak a lot of tears and wear a cloak of
a thousand years. The goddess is no virgin mother, that story is the one
yet to be uncovered or discovered... whatever the channel will tell
when the money paves its road to hell. Hello, do you like my hat?

An so? What? Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy?
Kids today will not eat ivy, no matter what the pundits say. Reap what
you sow in fields that give a clue against an enemy you do not know, (said
the mousy old shrew, who knew what no lemming ever knew).

Mainstream like main street is just another victim, we don't endorse them
cuz we don't pick them, said the brave little girl who had a little curl
right in the middle of her forehead, foreshadowing what her ancestors
thought but couldn't be said from the land of the living dead.

I see chaos and I see change and dogs of pride with hides of mange.

Come out, come out, wherever you are, don't waste your love on a celebrity star.

Love is what you came to do, love is who you are. Ignore the noise and it will
fade, then it will go away... wagging it's tail behind them and hoping for a brighter day. That day is where you are. It's a dream and you are the victory Star.

I arrest my case. A nightmare is a mental case.


Friday, November 4, 2016

Oh the Goddess... she did not come to please

There she was as an innocent on the beach,
modest as the time of day on a sandy dock
with a poodle skirt and her bobbie socks...
to an evening gown singing happy birthday
with a dia-mind crown. So renowned.

Whore of babble-on, jealous wife who
sought to right the blackest of knight.
Why even waste your breath, on a faunteleroy
with a phantom vest... a poor joke at best.

Some came for crazy dreams, some came for vengeance
from a past so broken as an infinite jest... but I digress.

Born in a world so foreign from sane, like a rusted whale
on a weather-vane... turning with winds from a vacant eye
and wondering, can this really be real, and why?

The menfolk are gathering their forks regardless of their belief
in storks, and cabbages, and kings... they feel reviled by the
fat lady who sings. Sweet Jesus, I'm feeling the sway
of the many men who forgot how to pray in an awkward
but confident way. If they don't have guns they cannot play.
(She just shakes her head in dismay)

The pleasing and cowardly try is a tired old biddy to forces
inside, there's no asking and pleading and sighs,
a force to be reckoned with is waiting, wanting, and standing
at the door. Will you let her inside? She is just another face
that your trying to hide. A sinewy snake but a call to the wise.
We will not stand for this abuse anymore. Not for our children
or their futures in store. Mothers arise, it's what you came here for!

Those most condemned are often the most trustworthy, when
there is nothing left to hide. A goddess holds webs as an art form
as time drifts on by. It's the rightenous holding a black book who
will be uncomfortably shy. The Goddess in compassion will
understandably know why. She is empathic, but not so shy.

So please if you will whatever you believe, see the undoing of your
personal greed and know in your fullest of heart... a mother's love
was the greatest sacrifice of your own little heart.

She will not please or go down on her knees, so you better get over
it and change your mind. The goddess is waiting for the reign of
man-kind. Isn't it time?    

Thursday, October 13, 2016

Dress rehearsal for a parlour trick

Oh I saw it coming like the teeth of the Jaws
the degradations of legions chomping at the maws.
Saddened, but nevertheless I am in awe.

There is no news that is fit to print
just tabloid flaws amongst internet hint.

"Hey, i'm just earning a living"
 gives me great pause...
When that living is a slavery cause.

So the aliens are coming, or so it would seen
from the internet scammers living an apocalpse dream...
see it's a misspelling... you know what I mean.

In the east horizon, on a day gone south
when I flap useless gums from a nere-do-well's mouth,
i see ghostly visions wafting the skies,
projected from thoughts of nere-do-wells eyes.
No need for disguise.

The aliens are coming, there is nothing to fear,
no shit sherlock they are already here.

They come as your masters and ascended one,
or candidates for presidents who consider themselves
won. Please forgive me, my heart weighs a ton.

So projection as planned in due from the east, a little
bit south from the belly of the beast...Nasa, Nasdeq...

and even a little nascent trebek. Spare me the recent
star wars and trek. Movies are projection but what the heck...

The past is dead but our future is now, we all got the memo
and we know it somehow.

I saw the silly ghost, and the creepy clown
vying for options for a very silly crown.

Aliens are coming your way, or jesus, buddha, allah
as some might say. It will be a grand parlor trick

to cause some more fear. The aliens to most kind folk
are already here. Be ready my deer.




Wednesday, October 12, 2016

Oh the perfect day...

There was one perfect day a long time ago,
no a moment in time without reason or rhyme,
skipping home to a jump rope rhythm, blue sky,
white clouds, happy to be alive as I skipped with
my rope away from the school... home. Past the nursery
of the blossom kind. Birds singing, and me knowing
all is well with the world. Lunch with mom is waiting.

Mom was not so well and the dark clouds came instead.
I can't remember what transpired but I went back to school
and faced a disappointment that day. Dismay.

We learned  scary tunes from my teacher kind as she banged
on an old piano. She wore sunglasses and wept as she taught us
some songs, for the curriculum. No "Bill Grogan's" goat today.

"Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming...

"And bombs burstin in air gave truth...

No, no, no my day just went wrong.

"Oh beautiful for spacious skies", was the song I wanted.

Fast forward... a half a century later.

I saw the dragon as a cloud in the sky, the moon sucked
into a brain. It passed down a sinus and out of a mouth,
(did I mention there was a rainbow that day?)

It passed out of the nostril of that dragon beast, as it
lit a twilight sky. I felt for the passing of the man in the moon,
but alas, I could not cry. It was a man in the moon with
with a sorrowful grimace that passed through the cloud in the sky.

I know why. She dances her light from the light of a Sun that
is just a reflection here. Letting her little one's know that their gifts may
give pause, but there is never nothing to fear.

A perfect day can never be spoilt when you see dark clouds
in a different way. Oh dear.

"Oh beautiful for spacious skies, and amber waves of grain."

Words I remember from a feminine chant that has stifled
my weary left brain.

"Crown thy good with (mother) brotherhood from sea to shining
sea. It's a perfect day when I'm thinking like me.

Skip roping with my poetry.




Thursday, October 6, 2016

Wolf and a Sheep

Prey tell, to the sheep that bleats well.
This wolf hides deep in your eyes,
an animal sentient and unhumanly wise.

It's a clever disguise.

The hunting are hunting, it's not such
a bad thing. You watch and can see
the human comedy. No fear. Stay with
me here.

Watch the skies, not the TV if you love
the birds, the clouds, and even the trees...
you will see the prey,
it just you and the me

who cares... steps from your heavens of
Apocalypse prayers.

The wolf is watching over the sheep, at least they're
sentient and won't lose their sleep.

Talking heads and crazy church bells come
together as jokers, as the hurricane swells.

Love is the reason that everything is here,
as a threat to the status that makes all of us fear.

It's just drama occurring, loud and bold...
such a old time melodrama whose time is
on hold, a moment in time is a joke in a rhyme.

The wolf and the sheep are beginning to see,
we are both the prey of a dying breed.

Love is the only thing that brings us together,
define the word and you will trust in the weather.

Or whatever.

 

Scalene... why can't you be true?

So it is written in the sonnets and beholden from the stars
that a scalene with an eye, projects the life on mars...

quite possibly dead, don't you think?
An eye for and eye and a tooth with a chink
of gold... or a story once told that is dead as
a doornail or quiet as a church mouse
never mind, as the storm moves closer
i will shut my mouth... ahem.

Folks we're at it again, and it won't go away
with some winds or a flood, the story goes
inward to the heat of the blood, it's relative
don't you see, the heart of the matter is the you
and the meme... or so it would seem.

A mission is part of the plan, to deny is to
bury good thoughts in the sand, which is blowing
into my jaded eyes... Oh, it's that old trickster and
he's wearing disguise, it's just sand in my eyes.

Quick, like a silver streak only for a glance or
a peek, an isoscalese in the wake, well hells bells
we should all order cake and be done with the past,
the die has been thrown and the future is cast.

Done, done. doner... said a ghost to a wanderer.

The eye of a storm is alive in feeder bands,
just like the disaster of Custer's last stand.

A scalene is what was planned, an isosceles
is what's in demand. A triangle will travel
for sure, not dependent on anyone's word.

A bird told me what might be true, but the
clouds convinced me that what I think will
come true. Oh scalene, why could't you be true?

I soss o lease,  wee are waitin on you.

Tis true.