I invite  three of you here on HP
to a gala on the banks of the Missippi
if you can recite for real the oath
of the Blind Deaf  Dumb  Wizards
for Truth

Post it in comments

that was  yesterday, I said to my sinister sister
she replied that is everyday
I made a face of derision
she drew her face into a gargoyle almost
threatening it was
if she had not been my sister
and I knew all the evil she had in her was
to trip me ice skating and break my arm
I would have been scared
but I saw her and our horse
he hated her
so I knew she had this evil streak
this horse was calm with everyone , but her
he bit her every chance he got , kicked her in the guts,
I rode him *******, he took off with her one day and ran her into a
hanging sign, broke both her front teeth,
and would not eat from her hand,
he was very clairvoyant,

you say , I think, I am just
transferring sibling rivalry into a thing,
not true kind sir, she once
made fire out of my baseball cards with one look
they just flamed up. I think I had pulled the arm off her Barbie before but , hey.
I didn't do it with my eyes.
I learned to get along after Mom and Dad passed
mysteriously.
Then at our family reunion , the thirty year one,
I got suspicious. Only her and I were there.
We started talking about the past .
I said I had to go ***.
Passed the restroom
and have been running ever since.

tendrils reaching out for what seems too far to grasp the stars it seem are closer the moonbeams more
in tune than anyone living or known
a star burst raises the hair on my arm
more now than her kiss or touch
than I go off on that starlight
that glistens off some lake at night
far reach fetch I try to seek that
lost light I have lost

the mist rises above the rose bush
fades her red to grey
rises up the ivy nearing the balcony
rising like dust stirred by an angry
Mustang bridled and chained wanting
freedom
the birds silence disturbing the crickets are missing
the moon has stopped glowing the stars
have stopped glistening
an aura is growing
of doom and mystery
silence is paranoid sent loose on it's mission
to haunt the unforgiven
I stand smoking a cigarette
Pall Mall Red 100
drinking an Olde English 800
glad to know
it ain't me
not me sir doom or spoil or devil
I believe in what I can see
not ghost's
BOO
****
what was that?

free thoughts on my day the universe
the guy with a sign on the corner a backpack  
his life on the side of a highway just wanting to go to
Dothan -his sign says

I turned the other way ,
I had my day all planned.
Two jobs to do make enough
dough for my weekend party.

I thought about him
for the next ten miles
heard his loneliness sing through
my tires

I turned around went back
glad I had found a care a heart
concern for someone other than I

And got back to that corner  
empty , it was. No man no sign no backpack no worldly belongings
alone on a corner of a highway in Alabama.

I rode my way back home. decided to take a day off
and think.

that's it
the this of now is where
I am gonna hang my cap hat my
toupee

Then there was when
that day I had long hair
and a goatee
always wet

vigorous , in a way
no doubts no second thoughts
my way or
nothing at all

had two ***** then
now I have three
they sag down lower then
my knees

I dont care anymore
wrinkles around every curve my biceps
turned into droopy triceps
my lower eyelids
into nose bags
my ears into forests
my chin into three of em

that is the way
I live work  hard
party when not working and
it took a toll
I just wish the mirror had a mute button
It has started laughing at me

if I were to lay down my glove onto your thigh
place my gauntlet upon your taut high *******
lay my ear to your chest hear your heart
tell me would you love me back?

ere the sun to warm the bed the sheets
make the warmest nest to love
together might you sink into a wet
embrace a passionate kiss

tell me tales of innocence as I
gently knead you closer
look off into the ceiling look down
when you think I am
not noticing

were the moons to multiply upon
the eastern dark sky tonight
like you and I
brightly sheen

If it was the end of the world or no
one would ever hear a word
again, might you take my hand tonight
pause the dreams of him

and for once see
I love you more than him
I have so much to give my pleas the silver rose
of sanity

oh sweetest blush again

like smooth velvet words
on satin blue skies with white *******
painted with corn cob silks
upon a  backdrop of the
brightest hues of yellow red
the contrast of a mauve overhead
glares
when the sky turns green along
comes  that starry night
of Matisse eyesight and Van Gogh
splashing
down to earth to soil
in awe my mind made all
it possible
the midnight majesty and celestial gazing
just here right now
on plain
mother earth

gone with the record collection just
fly beeeeeitch!
I had ten years at least
of changing my name and ordering
13 free LP's on Columbia House
and RCA invested in that
a penny like twenty times
had some of the best Tull
and America vinyl
Eagles and Uriah Heep
and you had me thrown out
on my *** like I was yesterday
by the Beatles
the cops came said go
I did
but I expected my record collection
and my Bose 901 speakers
that mustang all in parts in our shed and parked
without fenders or tires  on our carport
and I came back to get them
and you had gone
with all of it
so just go
I don't think Columbia House
is in bizness ******
anymore-
what can I do?

with almost nothing left to delve deep into
tonight
not much of  a quest to seek and search for left
I find myself writing this a lesson to all you
young fools
don't do as I said or what I did
only a fool shows his heart
bare
as I
do

I am the wind
the snow flurries the cold
the heat of the sun burning
a lump of coal
keeping you warm
I am all
but your thoughts
yearning

these words cannot ever rescue the most dour of our individual angsts
they change nothing in the end cry out cry  out
sustain nor feed another make a smile appear out of a tear
but they contain my thoughts my feelings for
all of you
these words just appear to be grateful
in the end they sing a sad song for all
those lost and tenuous those
who hurt feel alone bad
I have felt those hurts too
it makes no difference writing them
except to scourge my mind
be a little more
cleansed
myself

Old age has its  advantages
because
I find it harder
to remember what it
was
I was trying  to forget

In a principled mind,
which formed speculatively at best,
on cognition and dreams,
desires and subliminal manifestations
of life's energies,
I stumbled upon
and repetively focused on the unpleasant
aspect my mind seemed to be,
of somehow this
other me, like a curtain over a window to
my entirety. I was mostly here on this side of
the thick veil, or was I? There was more , I was certain.
More to me.
I found art the desire to create
at odds with my desires to self destruct.
I ran around the mural slashing
as I colored the sky the most
appealing blues.
I spoke of peace while killing a lamb for dinner.
I slid under death one way or another
one day and caught the other me
saying , I meet you again-
At Last.

by the symptoms
ferreted
the causes came out
  one by one
in dreams

my arms red from the armpits down
I exercise daily  my head
get plenty of pysical
endurance workout the cardio
from making others abodes
from seven am to six at dusk
mark a straight chalk line from about seven o'clock
as my time
that few hours I stretch  the synapses the electrical
impulses in my head to think about the greater possibilities
of someday building a temple for those like me
that make a good hand out of what they've been dealt
when playing spades I get everything but
when playing hearts I go bust
the suntan the aching legs the bulge of a hard day's work
certainly makes my temple stronger
the after seven exercising my human ability to imagine
is my life's bread

becoming a poet since I read more
than I write
becoming a human
since I feel more
of others
becoming a man I stand tall in peace
becoming another
I hope for

tense the leaves swing on
their tender stems displaying
the wind soft breezes

flesh concious since
my mom caught me and my cousin Anne naked in that old beat up rusty hulk of a truck right next to the outhouse
playing show me yours
at five years old and scolded us like satan's spawn
several psyches through my tale
I decided to live with it
got naked one day
ran through the ******* middle of town
plucking flowers from gardens and graves
had several pinned in my hair by
the time the constables caught me trying to
steal a shrubbery from the
garden center at Wal-Mart

felt once the green envy the wildest rash of insanity to see others success and such, here now in my place of concrete block four walled in a land of red tilled fields and land spreading out so far you
imagine it never ends
I have a hutch well heeled sanctity a dungeon
to feel safe sane and ponder
the great things the way I used to be for instance
and how I came through the madness
IN ONE PIECE
or two it depends on the definition of piece
it's spelling also
might be with an I after E
for all I care now
and to discover talent
such greatness beyond my
comprehension
I have now a cell
single amoeba like
process of digesting so much I
learned to praise and fixate
more on greatness
even were it not mine
and I am content to die
to go away into
nothing knowing
that my dream
I can see will live on
in other's words sayings
psalms hymns
notoriety
I am comforted
at
Peace
I think it all should be spelled
that way

I seek  her origin
surely a hymn an oral tradition a way of passing on
to destiny a love song's passion
it was never written
never penned
but echoing
deep inside
my intuitions

in the darkened hall the barefoot man
stood afraid of stubbing toes and tripping up
afraid to make himself the fool
the stumbling bumbling imbecile
his weight of fear took up more of him
that time stood still
and this day he stands in bronze
a monument to fear
a statue now stands etched in time
along side a stale crumb
of bread

a soliloquy
of earnestness brought on by doubt
I tend to hear things
one way

when the brittle rose breaks off to fall
dead as hell on the tabletop
water in the vase still
and careful words celebrating her majesty
time has just come and gone
her day in the new lightbulb led life inside
on pose upon the granite quarried
a quarantined staccato slice of beauty
caged polished and left for eyes
to digest signify our ability to conquer
anything we need to
to maintain our
our, what our?
Our superiority?

not another one this is it
just this life to make or break the seal or keep
it hidden
I have decided to stop the hiding
come out like a lion
and a lamb both
be tough in loving my fellow humans
be soft as wool in
expecting them to

there's times where
I feel fifteen again
when I feel her wet kiss
and that energy of her turned on
the thoughts go wild in my mind
return I do to
1969 under the
stands at the football game
it is all the same
I am energized a young'en again
wild with passion
drunken lust
just a little more
attentive to her
eyes and elbows
her softest pleasures
her thighs her sighs
her kiss and breath
the passion
though as new as at fifteen
in the wet clover
behind the football stadium,
I don't have to close my eyes,
to imagine.

this nothingness
kind of **** poetry is made
to address

just wayward
along side the rails
not on them

going through the motions
until I read the heartbreaks from you and him
and her

read stories of lives lost also
almost kinetic, the energy
I get

to wipe my eyes dry
with empathy and not self pity

beast soul or feast of toil
nave or gnome poet or saint
cave or sunlit mount or free cloud baring
the least rain the main
thing or an ant
an insignificant
bit of DNA that calms the sexually aggressive
the sinners of us saints
the devil's soul awaits those
among us pertinent
to survival so I sold
my wings to a sinner
fluttered down
and was landed upon
as a walking innocent
like I think of us all
called upon the earth cried out
forsaken is a hard boil
yes I am a boil
a sore upon the
hellsfire
a bane to those believed
tired never getting older
still not believing

silent as
the   middle of the ocean
quiet as the spider in a corner
comforting no one and seeking
none
just being

HP

***
the end is near
they updated hp
hope you hate it as much as I
this is like poetry freak reincarnated
every thing is wrong with it
it aint my HP
I am quitting

***
the end is near
they updated hp
hope you hate it as much as I
this is like poetry freak reincarnated
every thing is wrong with it
it aint my HP
I am quitting

someone done stole my baby
ran off with her in the night
updated her right out of my life
put her in some hideous makeup
made her a ****
a lowclass streetwalker
I search everywhere
can I get her back?

someone done stole my baby
ran off with her in the night
updated her right out of my life
put her in some hideous makeup
made her a ****
a lowclass streetwalker
I search everywhere
can I get her back?

nothing is ok
we look fancy now?
all dressed up with types and new
faces to go where?
I loved you plain
fell in love with you
without makeup
without a dress
just you
is what I loved
just that simple down home plain
gorgeous perfect
you were
I am so lost to see you in
falsetto and pumps
all that mascara
the hair , I liked it mussed
I don't know if
I am in love anymore

oh come  on !
who did this ?
a ten year old?
the font the spacing is all wrong:
it says on the title line Hello Poetry,
on one page then yrteoP olleH  
on another ;
is totally  not the HP I joined  or
would have had it looked this way.

remember when they brought out the new improved Coca Cola ?
Such a bad idea.
Looking back they had the right recipe
from the get.
Now that is a lesson for Hp
give me back the classic!

where did my beloved go ?
into Poetry freakism I guess,
this ain't my home no more!

I don't want change.
Not to HP
thought it was simply
perfect.

Give me back HP

I speak unspoken
ten million suns burn dim
a mountain erupting can never
talk louder
the days are long enough
religion is broken down
we are brothers
sisters alone in all this
the dead we left in the ground
our heros
have called for this
this day this awakening
this credo this cry this PEACE
I want Peace
I want love and harmony
I seek it, it urges me on
it implores my gut my marrow
to try to make it somehow
someway on this Earth
this planet
and I cannot make it
cannot make PEACE
myself or with words
oh but I try so
join in
all you out there
make a poem
a painting
a protest
a song a psalm a hymn
to the everlasting
us
and Earth in peace for once
write that name on
every wall
on your face get
a  tattoo
buy peace things
signs
necklaces
start a war for
it
PEACE
for our sake

My three daughters and I
Spot, Blue and sweet Timex,
live within the walls
of this Verona like  apartment,
Missy, the Black Lab who played nursemaid
to these three I believe, aided and abetted
sweet Timex's foray.
I, a Capulet, truly love my daughters
but easily fly into rages,
wishing a fair and providing man for them,
not the hell of the Montague clan,
namely bighead. Bighead roams the streets the alleys the back woods
no earnings or propriety,
no means to his unmatted fur,
his wild houls in the night, testament.
The nurse then, on a late night, asked to go out.
I tired, got complacent and out timex flied!
She returned a week later,
not the young kitten, playful,
but a Cat, with hunger in her eyes.
Spot and Blue, still are eager to discover the outsides,
Probably filled in on all that is there,
by Timex. And she no longer plays.
She even meows different now,
seems to meow
O Bighead, wherefore art thou Bighead!

after watching
the videos of children and humans
striving for a breath
their bodies limp
from a saran attack
I would strap my *** to
a cruise missile
after getting a tattoo
all over my body saying
Assad
this is for you!
It was sickening
beastlike satanic
and I cried
my stomach wretched
I shuddered
here this world is
in the 21st century
and  some of us
are still barbarians
I pray
we listen to the
little girl some
call the  Syrian
Anne Frank
my heart breaks
again

once seven pm
in this neck of the woods comes
'round
it's blues and gin time
a bit of eight ball
on the table
the dice in the corner
girls in short dresses
and perfume
Floyd Dixon making the women wet
a bonfire outside
a sip of moonshine
her looking
red lipped
licking
me trying to remember her name
beats turned up and the cue ball slams
into the rack and vicious
I stare seductive as ten grenadine bottles in the window
back at her svelte high hair  load of makeup
smiles tight assed hips posed just right there
hell its past 7 now
give yo a ride home Mabel?
she smiles

a rare early day at relieiving stress
a shot at one fifteen of scotch
no less
took a care not less attitude
right then
turned off all six of my cellphones
put my feet up
twiddled my thumbs for
the first time in a decade
bills to pay **** them
my credit rating
sheeesh
when am I gonna go out and buy a Porsche
without cash
gotta  be kidding me
so I sit and languidly soak into a myst fall
from the cliff of civility
brave my wife to not make a salad how
'bouts we have just raw meat tonight
I see her blush
behind her apron strings
and today is god ****** good
for me

vesparations
a word I just created
seems to be in desperation
not finding a synonym
in my google thesaurus so I invented
it
a combinating  psuedonym
a conjagulations freebiddanence
a twelve lettered
sort of word
that suits my aim right now
to a tee
or is that t?
or tea?
**** inventing words
is frustrating...

mom,
sorry about the roses and the broken vase
sorry about your birthday I missed
again

I am the little imbecile  you created
after all
heard you call my sisters ******
swear at them all night long

been in the circle when you swung that belt threatening all of us
"who stole my Snicker's bar"
so sorry
all of us forgot mother's day

let's see if you get anything next year

the mezcal incident, now
that was surely one doozy/
started out with a shot of Patrone
no lime or salt at ten in the morn'/
at this strip joint in Wicksburg
where they advertise
two hot babes three skinny one's
and one big mama,
on their marquee, which is one of
those lighted portable signs plastic letters things
the kids like to vandalize by
like on the Natural Light Deliverance Tabernacle
I minister at occasionaly, we have one of those ,
had In God We Trust , lettered on it on saturday.
Sunday, at eleven, when we arrived for worship ,
it said in dogs  we gust,
limited letters to arrange so,
I got the teen hoodlum gyst/
I ramble on so much, wouldn't
blame you
if you lost interest,
but anyways/
this day, what I mentioned early in this,
started out fairly innocent, a drink
a gander at female utilitarianism,
and a shot,
thing about tequila
sitting down you don' t know how ****** up you are
get up, try to stand and wow!
I keep digressing,
that day
hell I ******* forgot/
Sorry to lead you on.

add my name to that inner circle thing
where newsletters about the most heartfelt go
the e-mails and spam about
worthy people nearly saints
singing praises in God's name hand
out bread loaves
and fish

keep my name off charities
that claim for twenty five cents a day
you can adopt: a child in Africa; an elephant;
send books to the Nile River flooded
refugees; the latest Syrian gassed.

I get my kicks, sunshine,
above the waist, (**** i stole
hell outta that line)
and I lied about that too,
some my best kicks, etc.....

well, giving seems to be a
rich someone ******* in America
in a mansion. Send me , count me in,
when charities help some
*******.

I've been down out, seen ten million others
the same desperate way, ain't seen or heard
one thank the United Way

best, would  be for me to wait, consider
my theme- the scheme,  await that inner
lyricist to arrive- yet here I go, impatient
for the to and fro
the rhythm begs at my sight my
eyes to paint again the white
empty spaces with hieroglyphic symbolism,
a pause in space and sanity, whatever
comes to mind, and i spin
my pedestal around where it ends
I do not know,
if I fall it won't be the end
the beginning is dizzy now,
and so I go, off
the track path road where
no one else has *****
enough to tread
all barefoot,
ill equipped as I,
and I do it with
a bitter wry
bit of smile
irony and hope

entranced by my psychologist
I wondered at her phraseology
ten words into my diaphora
she instantly knew
came at me with pointed
questions I could see the intentions to
I stumbled
preparing another plan of attack
then thought
how about I make **** up
voices I have heard voices
she seemed uncaring like
she had heard this a hundred times
asked how do I think of my mother
father siblings do we converse
I asked her back the same questions
then started in
you seem to be attentive to the **** things
sweet pea
you squirm
fidget
nothings wrong
I see
are you ok
her face grew a bit perspiry
and then three thugs rushed in
and I was  bound
I had no idea
she had a
panic button

one day lying on my back on the lawn
the sky painted a portrait for me
a man floating on clouds like cotton
through passages of eternity

these empty spaces passages
they floated between the white
fluffiness created a movie
of sublime white and blue

I saw men and women in
portraits above
smelling sweet sweet blossoms
the grass green the clover

all around were dreams and hypnosis
things brought forward
I had forgot
thoughts of then

the sun peaked through
a ray of sunshine so bright
I was blind for  a minute

when I opened my eyes again
it was such a beautiful day
I sought to lay there
on my back
and watch the sky

forever
to eternity
or until
I died