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
completely
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.

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.

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.

Amen?
Not from these lips
will this false praise commence.