Put the peach ripe
On the table
In the sunlight
The circle of brightness
Yes,
Where the knife flash
Falls across & through
The rosy red yellow
Apparition fuzzy
With pretension
To tastes delicious
Beyond mortal fare
In its sweet soft gush
Your tawdry dreams
Fulfilled beyond all measure
Of good- or deserved-ness,
And all this & more,
In a ripened peach.
That bold entrance
Direct to the window
To adjust the shades.
The dress that falls
Not too far ‘neath
The prix de jour—
As in campy heels
A leg rises to table
And invitations made
Locks & shadows fall
And new entry made
With gratifying wet heat
The gift is given
In mutual parrying
That boils perfumes
To heady ecstasies
And subsides in aahs…
Sad fact is
Like bad weather
In your face
Each and every breath
The horns of dilemmas
The standard measure
Has lost its respect
All is rubber sheet
Contortions in alternate
Universes flashing with
Disharmonies that grate
The ear drums with potent
Denials of action
We are listless
Without plan or motive
All pales in twilight
Azure shadows are our food.
Exception, Mister Speaker—
Thank you.
Upon that point of order
Well, may I approach
And make my annual appeal
Please the assembly
That the least of these
May have his or her day—
And further that this sun
Might shine on all
In this our commonwealth.
Else we shall lose the loyalty
Heretofore given in hopes
Of a better, generous day
When the basics of life
Might be granted, sirs,
As true birth rights.
Pine tree state,
Mother nature provides
Lumber and fish
Berries and lobsters
Although once servant food
Folks up here are used
To class superior folk
From Bah-ston
With Hah-vad degrees
Bright eyes, big ideas
But we Maniacs
Handle the tourists
Like the weather
She comes an’ goes
And being tough as rocks
We just remain
At season’s end, ehuh.
Inside her snore
Was the day ahead
Coded in compact
With the devil’s needs
To exert wrong force
On a man of wanton creeds
That’s what the deed says
Regardless of truth
Or fair judicial review—
So let the stupidity begin
With awakening snorts
And swimming to surface
Announcements & dreamscapes
Where reason gone dark
Makes application
To the best of retainers
Who want to serve the queen.
Mash potatoes
Puddin’ pie
Got a fish bone
On my plate
And a hanger
In my suit
Sure, dress to kill
And lay down your bets,
Tomorrow’s nearly here
And the demands
Never go down
Until you’re buried
In your costume box
With your best suit & tie—
Ready to meet the Big Man
(Or Woman)
(Or Thing)
That started this
Meals on Wheels.
Happy Birthday, Mom!
Proper perspective
Step back, step forward
Hold up a finger
Judge the wind
Or ambient sound.
Ease up on the subject
While keeping a frown
From your lips
To God’s Holy Ears
All is known
Despite our dull stare
The light changes
Shadows perversely shift
You dance around
With clue or gift, so,
Put down the paint brush
And with dignity erase yourself.
He moved slower
Cold weather reptile
Mouth opens closes
Eyes blink
He belches
Then vague smile
Something, all the time
Licks lips
Smacks mouth
Inhales
Makes a wheeze
Starting to heal up
Any minute
A leg or arm
On the move
Head tilts eye closes
Well, maybe not yet.
Break out the shovels
Eight inches of snow
Brew some coffee
And scramble the eggs—
Heavy lifting ahead
Potential heart attack
Say where’s that May boy
Stout of heart
Lean of purse.
He’s an entrepreneur
He’s the future bright
Our cash drawer
Clings to a few bills
Gladly volunteers
To save an old man
In the autumn
Of his plutocratic years.
