Sunday, September 28, 2014

Put up your dukes.

Oh the Duke of Earl and the
Duke of the Screen,
is a smoke screen upon
a silent dream.

Illusion of the enemy around,
the news is full of their shadowy sound...

mayhem, a-hem,
there's no skirting around.

Woman is a shadow
out of bounds.

Send in the hounds.

I listen, like a kitten
and bare my claws to the clown.
This world, like an hourglass
is upside down.

Even the rainbows are a frown.

I'd rather die where it's sunny,
(only a poet could find that funny.)
Git yer shotgun Annie
you get the next round.

Naw... Paw... you got me
i'm jest fucking around.
Cheers and tears in your beers
that was last years rebound.

Sad, glad, mad, and had...
Been there, done that
the smoke rings around the he
I remember Ahab
and the whale

Who would not beg to be drowned?

Me... as I smoke, in a hazy glee.

Sunday, September 14, 2014

Where have all the good people gone?

I don't see them on the TV shows
nor blogs that i've come to know.

Gone, gone, gone
like a bell whose toll
is forgone.

I can speak without a word,
from a premonition
that I have heard,
doesn't mean a thing
with the woe
that a heart can sing.

Where is that sweet heart song?
Was I right to be so wrong
following hordes of a fleeting past?

These cultural ties will never last.

I'm a victim of a time...
tear down that mast of
persuasion. It's a blue crystal vase,
holding a wine of an Aegean purview
without reservation.

I could ruminate like you
when I've nothing better to do,
but I'll dance, dance, dance...
madras and mudras, and tantrics
in saris and pants, pants, pants.

I need a trance, trance, trance.

I think therefore I am.
I am love before I can.

Saturday, September 6, 2014

Den of Kings

The den of kings is a den of knaves,
whose chess match game
is a denizon of slaves.

I saw the game played in
a corn hole maze,
ooh we're so delighted
in a distracted united.

Heard the marbles played
in a ceiling contrited.

Spell check is unnecessary
to see that Mary's verse
is just a woman cursing
not a red bag accessory
after the fact.

The rains have come
it won't be long,
the harvest doomed
the crops all wrong.

She will weep no longer.
Not for slumber or hunger.

Come to avenge, the warrior cries
unearthing the sow of scurrilous lies.
No more shall we shed tears
to the lies that are fed
on tyranny's fear.

Oh, man, you really sealed your doom
in glories by the light of the moon.

She watched over quietly
your banquet of glutted feast-
watched the meekly inherit.
She's your Babylon's beast.

The children will know her as Mama, Grandma,
Nana, and the Light from the East... Sunlight.

So desist and decease.
We are forging ahead
with a plan called PEACE.

Not from these lips
will this false praise commence.

Friday, August 15, 2014

Ms. ogynist

Oh Captain, my captain...
how I hated that verse
so bloated and soggy
like an over boiled wurst.

Red stripes of blood
and stars mired in blue

a nation in tatters
in an unearthly hue.

The captain has died,
it's what people do.

In lilacs of spring
after the winter's dread cold
the dooryard has opened
the ewes in the fold,

the cattle are lowing
the poor baby's cold.

Enough is enough.

We tried so hard to follow
the rules, and we worked hard
to follow as fools. We lost
our way to an evil that drools.

The Mother is watching
as the eye of the moon,
the satyr like star
sings an unnerving tune,
don't worry dear precious
I'll not faint nor swoon.

I'll laugh and I'll dance
when the banquet is done,
when that old world rolls over
with the wrought it has won.

A woman's work is never quiet done.


Oh those stories were told with a gifted bravado
that are now melting as ice age, as the next new gelato.

It's sad but it's true, it's as old as the son,
it a story that's resurfacing to each and everyone.

An old woman that danced
in spite of the age,
the sinewing curves
inside of a cage.

Laughing at the joke of a red sea parted,
the tin children soldiers wrote of a glory
departed. The chosen ones were all of a kind,
leaving the loathsome women and children behind.

A slaughter is a murderous kill,
the woman and children are under a hill.

She held a snake in her hands as she danced,
knowing the future she went into a trance
so those warrior kings could win their spoils
for the degrading notion of religion and oils.

Now, who coils?

The Minoan woman who went underground
like a worm in the soil, who kept her ground
is poking her head to the light of the day
and shaking her fingers as her hips are a sway.

The future is children, the old men are dying
they will be weeping, and gnashing, bleeding and crying.
For the woman in her whiley ways, will rise
to the sound of her childlike gaze
and scoop up the children with pure heart and song...

The Minoan Mama will set right what is wrong.

She will rattle the snake whose still sleeping at dawn.

Sunday, August 3, 2014

Oh clever cleaver

Saw a strange thing on a parapet
a golden crucifix
strolling with golden collection
plate against a butt...
a man in shorts
a man's video cohort
aiming a plea
of a pathetic sort,

Alms for the poor
no doubt
in dubious clout
the religions are doomed
as they scurry about
the money tree...
 you see
it's about power and money
and keeping the piece
of the pie
for themselves, how pathetic
I think. I know flames of ink
that a person must think.

I'm a woman who flames
at the liars sink
i would be sick
if I didn't know of their stink.

I watch in wonder, of a woman's
dear plight, early in morning and
late into the night. The fires are
embers, we have a fresh start,
the arsonist's boil on his butt
is the flame of my heart.

The sirens will scream, but don't be
alarmed. Like the low moan of a train
whose as soft as a bairn.

To love truly true, you need do know harm.

Saturday, May 24, 2014

I came, I lived, I know.

The great divide is amongst the living
who came to live the song of tell.

Show us your modus operandi,
we'll show you the road that is paved
to hell.

Divided is how you seek to conquer,
quests made frequent so far and wide.
United is what has scared you further
into your realm of take... then go hide.

Cowards steal and glower in pride.

Come out, come out, where ever you are
your money means nothing in old gold
and tar. Your feathers are fettered
wherever you are.  We all can see you
for who you are.

The world is a changing in new sacred threads,
not needing your systems to hang over our heads.
You poor scaredy cats are now losing your eyes;
was it worth all that misery you concocted on lives?

United we stand as the your tyranny ends,
every child knows that the monsters aren't friends.
The T-Rex was a reptile, the most frightening of foes,
but to the children who know you
well, anything goes.

You are laughable fodder to a serpentine dream
now it's your turn to experience the throes of your scheme.

You know what your did, now go munch on
your scream.

Sunday, March 9, 2014

Oh no, oh now, catty somehow

Here and now I sit and wonder
what's the use of pawn and ponder,
useless in a paper bag
the maiden crow,
forsaken hag.

A sense of humor always wins
a belly laugh of phantom sins
portray a tale of human whims.

All is well in a spring of water
if you live your story,
I'll give you a quarter

squared in a spectacle
of a towns delight,
offer opinion and enter the fight.

You open a dark soul
of a fearsome night. It ain't right,
the words are spit in moments delight.

The part of living that you can't see
is the the part of the other that you call we.

Oneness is a fleeting vow,
a doggone belief in the here and now.

Bow wow to the oneness movement,

Sunday, January 12, 2014

Hippo Crit

I love the hypocrite
they will ask you to buck the system,
raise your frequency
for currency. They know how.
Those gurus of high bow.


I don't recall the Sun
charging a fee for
it's light or energy.

Any system that works
does it for free.

But, that's just me.

I still smile and laugh