again italics
nor notes longer than my poem
or center align
or bold

or twitter thingies
#hashtag silly
or frilly butterflies
or the moon as my theme

or rhyme
next time

I may
just sit around
and think for awhile
of words

that say it all

seems I was once
a God
long ago
maybe in Olympia
or figuratively I was once:
both cruel and a coward
and both my parents
disliked me;
when came a time
I invented wine
and danced at springtime festivals
in my honor;
Where the sound of music
festooning me as I danced wildly high on wine,
as my silver bow became entangled in the olive
branches, I got plowed under;
then, thrown in the cold Caspian
to sober by my regal comrades
i may have caused earthshakes, sorry,
earthquakes, (still a bit groggy)
I envied my brother for
even Gods seem to have superiors;
then this girl Hera
also my sister by the way,
(I know a bit incestually *****)
caught me while I was
messing around with others
and I grew angry
(mad at being caught)
and thundered and stormed
like  no other could.
I had finally reached the pinnacle.
THE most powerful,
yet I still had tantrums?
As I throw another
thunderbolt down!

take lyrics back
or erase what you did?
Change the course of
history?
Act like nothing happened
and it was not you, that day?
I did. I was feeling rather blue,
and it really wasn't her
fault she was busy,
hell she is married,
and I expected her to be there on call.
She wasn't , I guess you guessed.
She was pre-occupied.
Might say something
about my gullibility
or neediness, I suppose
**** it
I want all to know
she meant all to me
married or not,
things grew time got on
like lichens on a sill
seemed not to move to one of us
looking out
the one looking in saw it all changing
growing moss on the bark
on every stem
the tree still is there
out my window
still the same
just
more darker and  her
limbs barer
and the song of us
I forgot what
it was

she said to me that warm July
as she put all the roses I
could find fully blooming that day
into a crystal vase and smiled

she then tasted the chocolates
which I had spent my last dime on
for her my sweetest gift deserved
and I saw her close her eyes like

she had me   in mind and heart but
then she said what else do you got?
I thought how could  I be so  blind
to think she might'a fell for me

she has  the entire countryside
trying to look up her long skirt
all the young lads flirting with her
why was I so naive and dumb

to think she could settle for me
so, in anger I stated , your
sister is too young for me ,but
fairer, so I guess I will have

a  lot of explaining to do,
which made her look, a bit too late
open her mouth in shock gasp
while I took the flowers chocolates
and my admiration to the girl
next door to hers.

some referrals a reward once in the while
for just continuing to fight
a nice word to take home to gather
in late at night alone
praise and a pat on the back ,
a hug kiss more
once and 'gain
a night of good conversation a
look like we are desirable humans
that sly come hither thing with passion for us
candles and rose petals and morning kisses
and  excitement
a little champagne and dancing
breath on our ear
swaying and feel of another being
feeling just like we do
connecting
or just someone
liking us
it
so
much
matters

my pets are  
my Labrador is
stupid sweet
and when she got loose last time
she had a dog on her *** and one on her head
just going to town
I need to get her spayed:
why hell don't they have a  pill for that?
And I have three young ******* cats
that Missy the Lab still lets nurse on her
all with different personalities
one is calm but playful
and loves cuddling
nothing bothers her
one is super excitable
running from table to tv to chair
in pursuit of air constantly
the other is studious
just sits there watching it all
I expect her to give a dissertation soon
on cat and dog and human habits
I call her
Freud.
I haven't named  the other two.

and fell on Hellenistic sculpture hard
tell me "in the round" was not perfected here
or that Helen was not gorgeous
and I would defer to Menelaus
for the war that ensued
and not Homer
depicting her as wistful,
as said once about her,
"Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships/And burnt the ******* towers of Ilium?"
I would have been her suitor.
Or I might have been Paris
in another life
daring to abduct her.
I might still be around Sparta,
waiting for her to turn that corner.
And Zeus will never stop me.

a brittle memory
a stoic sense
of how I behave

a sage I am not
not immune to misfortune
and where ethics

make for a basis of thought
of reacting to
the Judeo-Christian

belief that believing
absolves one of
worldly sin

I say *******

on sun's angles
from where we sit
just travelers
closer to
we all get
without trying
or running from
seasons catch up to us
eventually
closer
to
it

alone tonight
to think  
about society
and religion
I took great pains
to be  
by myself
only myself
tonight
but I
had this weight
like I had others
thoughts invade my mystical space
and I had a thought
if I can't even be alone when I try
to be
what the hell does that mean?
Is their some common
conscious a flow from person to person
we don't fully understand yet?
Or is my Karma ****** up
and I am hallucinating again?
Then the tea kettle sang
for me to take her off her hot plate
the small table was  set
with small cups on saucers and two
silver spoons
and I set down
to tea and crumpets
and a hatter made me laugh
and hobbits danced around the room
and a  girl disappeared down a rabbit hole
and resurrected an idol who promised
to return:
so common in fairy tale stories
which this is not , by gosh, just a telling of  a
tale of an evening trying
to discover truth and meanings.

motions, like sky breezes
dancing along the Milky way
we crept decoratively
hand in hand

to the masculine side and back
me leading then you
followed along the firefly
paths

there we met hand in hand
breast to chest
woman to man
in majesty

I sit and think who might I *******  
for the fun of it, I could
disrespect a host of  people
but really don't think it
would do any good.
but I need to rant and rave it's in my DNA
tonight
might have drank something with testosterone protagonists
earlier
I drank orange juice
the sun may have
zapped it with hormone inducing chemicals
or  the nuclear plant right next to the grove
of laden trees
might have glowed and no one saw it
or little green men
might have visited me and tested me while
I slept
probing and poking
and I am testy with
the subconscious memory of,
or perhaps I got a
***** somewhere hid
and I am ragging
all I know is I wanna
tear the world a new *******

your poem is
or the reasons
it came about
it is here so
shout it out
climb to the top
of the mountain
and scream hey world!!
and when you
did that
write again
and stay proud

It was a long time since I  heard from her
since she said hello since I held her hand
since we whispered goodbye
since we went different ways

It was good to hear her voice again
imagine she  had had a good life
imagine her here
imagine holding her hand

It was different though distance and time had changed things
I guess imagining is flawed
I guess time takes a toll
I guess you can't go back

But I told her I did love her then
and it sure was good hearing from her again
and it sure was nice of her to call
and it sure might be good if we kept in touch

knowing all the while
it was for the better
it was not meant to be
but when my heart

got on the phone
it wanted to remember

I had that epiphany moment where I realized I was
more than the ordinary
tightly dressed caped zero
capable of saving living things
like  kittens
stray dogs and I don't throw frogs against walls anymore
nor do I willingly hurt my nemesis
I try to tame them
with a song a dance trance them
you might call me
the reality show superhero
if I wanted to I could win
American Idol
but that would take precious time
away from my fighting crime
I sing to my dog and she sings  back
like she does when she hears sirens
and I could win a dance contest
I  dance with my kittens
or try to
they are still young enough to be skittish
I am truly a superhero to them
when I open a bag of chips or fry
pork chops
in olive oil and  spice them with garlic salt
which they think is catnip
and I write in a cape
and go sailing over clouds over
mountaintops
maintaining
superhero
type stuff
nightly
so
I know I am
a superhero
to them
to me
in
a
way
and Gotham
and Clayhatchee
and home for them
safe.

oddly silent(ly)
was not expecting
to lie on the concrete stoop
look into the last beam of sunlight so soon
wish upon a star so soon
with the last ray peaking obtuse
o'er yon horizon
and the eastern sky to be so lit
up still
still
I caught the first star sparkles
and a very big moon
waft his big face up
o'er the black forests
faces golden obtrusive
lightening
sky to where
the stars hid for a moment
and I lie
lied on my back wondering
is this a night to recall
or what

You can't sleep?
No.
Want to talk about it?
No.
It might help
It won't.
Why might that be?  When i am worried or upset I
find it is better to talk to someone about it.
I am not you.
That's for sure. You seem to change moods with
the direction of the breeze.You keep things in too much.
There you go analyzing me. Tell me what
college did you get your Ph.D in Psychiatry from?
I didn't mean to make it worse. I am sorry.
Well, that doesn't really help. I have  bad news I have to tell you.
My heart sunk. My breath left.
Okay. Tell me.
Remember when we separated? Those three months you had to go and
find your roots or sow oats or  whatever you had to do?
I remember.
Well, I am pregnant.
That is wonderful.
No,
No it isn't.

I think I know so many people so beautiful
once i gained a bit of notoriety and all I could
think was how nice sweet all these strangers are
when i don't know them at all
but for their words
sweet
and comments nice
when I go to their profiles
I like to read their statements more than their poems
things like
trying to be a  poet
or tired and dried out
I search for depth and abstracts
few say I am writer
one said save a life
I especially liked one who wrote
Just writing what I think, what I feel and everything in between.
and that said much but
I feel a kinship
a closeness
with those I never met in person
I suppose
you do too/

what do I do now?
was planning on wearing my ***** clothes,
might I wash them?
they seem so comfortably reposed there
on the floor,
and hand washing is such a chore
they will
  be the same I suppose day after, and who knows
I may wash
  them tomorrow but not likely I am more
infused now with an unexpected day off
  with doing some wrong for I can sleep in
and no one is answering my phone
that is like double hell

I have
done all the floors
removed weeks of built up nasty
washed the cabinets down
removed all the bacon drippings from
cleaned and refilled all the tito boxes
so they have fresh litter to soil again
disinfected the toilet
washed all the hair off the soap
down the bathtub drain
polished the keyboard and the monitor
knocked ten years it seems of cobwebs off
every wall
got all the dishes soaking then
I ****** up  and drank a beer
so I won't
get done today
who really cares

waver how to take what you say
to me between a compliment
and a permanent slur
which often is my fault

I endure on  trying to say
to you my dear you  complement
me so so much so far
which is my guilt

when I get petulant
redundantly exposed to
what I think
are fits

then I look back through the stem of the bottle

as your shine your you your pretty face
in the morning waking next to me
softly your eyes open and I hear
angel songs and wonder how I made it before
I found your beautiful
this peace of heaven alive
sleepy eyed getting
prettier more mine
desirable
day after morning after nights and days
soft as rose petals
sunrises
kitty purr
and smiles
on cloudless
days
for
ever

Starry, starry night
Paint your palette blue and gray
Look out on a summer's day
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul

Shadows on the hills
Sketch the trees and the daffodils
Catch the breeze and the winter chills
In colors on the snowy linen land

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free

They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now

Starry, starry night
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze
Swirling clouds in violet haze
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue

Colors changing hue
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free

They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now

For they could not love you
But still your love was true
And when no hope was left in sight
On that starry, starry night

You took your life, as lovers often do
But I could've told you Vincent
This world was never meant for
One as beautiful as you

Starry, starry night
Portraits hung in empty halls
Frame-less heads on nameless walls
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget

Like the strangers that you've met
The ragged men in ragged clothes
The silver thorn of ****** rose
Lie crushed and broken on the ****** snow

Now I think I know
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free

They would not listen, they're not listening still
Perhaps they never will

Written by Don Mclean • Copyright © Universal Music Publishing Group

my whole death to sleep
all of eternity
which ain't here yet
so I try
to think every second
of keeping my eyes focused
on now and
everything
is okay so far
afraid at times
to close my eyes
for I may
never
wake up
again

find myself studying the Kama Sutra
or lost between Carlos Casteneda
and Don Juan
tilting at telephone poles
because all the windmills have gone
Or toking on Hobbit stories
amazed by J. R. R?
Studying Tolstoy
imagining War or peace
questioning
why we all are how
we are such defendants
when we are
what we are
just human?

the tisk to me tasket
the rim of me basket
the jist of me last kiss
once the brim of me full glass
the trim saturday
the wake up next to everyday
now me memory
not a sad thing
just life, anyway

none of  my poetry abounding
my
AA meetings not until next week
the old  sounds ring in my ears
I am short breathed imaging
trying to deal with
by turning Evanescence up as loud
as her beautiful goes
drown out all the demons
but it still has
all of me
by the *****
and I know it
I don't  know what to
do about it
drowning
in the trailer park
under the dark
canopy
a fish
out of water
gulping
down the new
abstinence
killing
brain cells
one way or
the other

from outside like I was drowning out
floundering in the undertow of life's surf
waves continuously  over my head crashing
gulps of salt sea breaking my will to live
rocks threatening to break me open
with every crest every surge
like an oyster about to be opened
swallowed salty like life is
one gulp more and I may have been
then
I rose like Poseidon
calmed the surf
took the waves in  my hand and threw  them back
walked head above the crests proud farther into the depths        
into the deepest depth upside down mountains
no man has been to before holding my breath for my eternal
salvation
and washed  up a mere mortal
on the coral banks under swaying palms
and mermaids
naked *******
in
arms
of rest
and tans
a mere saved
mortal
again

trolling bait wriggling under the moonlight
in the backseat of a sixty-five dodge dart
on the banks of the Rouge in Pontiac
Mich on a cold night
on a lonesome dirt road
with  sacks of sand  in the trunk
in case we got stuck
a long time ago
hope you think a time or two about that
like I do , Sue.

goes on for the next one
breath...
song.....
love...

I bet the sun comes up
take the points and scatter
doomsayers
it's been eons since
light years
and it goes on
coming up
every morn'
no matter
prophecies
of false prophets
predicting
us
to
predict
it always will
at least for
a few more
of my
eternities

numbers already proven to be
larger than the smallest infinity
a set ( of things, people, possibly
perhaps chances too)
more than one point is always
one
an innate expectation (probability
deducted to be seventy percent)
part of evolution
part of the stream that flows from
(the sun, star births, carried into)
infinity with smaller bursts
childbirth,
death,
ad nauseum

you were so deep at times I envied and
hated even as we made love in the pecan grove
as the twisted old limbs grew above
our green land

I read your bodies words with  soft hands
waited for you to  to climb up in ecstasy
to meet me there in zen and heaven's
lost last Eden and our discovery

became my quest my destiny
my goal , my breath, my whole
only to look up  one day
to see the  depth of your soul

fly away like an apostle or angel
and your wings caught my heart
lifted my breath away my soul
into the forest where dreams are.

with this new day came
with more oxygen and  brain
with more tingling
with more you

off the suns rays brightening
off your face lovely
off these eyes of mine
off into my mind

where lovely is
where it really is
where beautiful resides
where love sometimes shines

made a three bean salad on Sunday
she made showy a bowl of seeds
in three minutes I was satiated so sufficiently
I fell asleep

no moonshine when she's gone
its not warm when she's away
I need a drink and wonder
if she's gone to stay
ain't no moonshine when she's gone
she got all the money
***** and *****
this glass just ain't
a glass any time
she goes away

Hi to that woman
who doesn't know me yet
I have you on my mind
I have seen you write

You are wandering
above me now
in dreams and
of tomorrow how

might I get your attentions
to let you know
without fragmenting
it all into

craziness or stalking or
I don't know
into a poem
that tries to

you know , rhyme
and make sense
or garner
or

turn your eyes

how I do the same thing once
and it comes out wrong
and do it twice and it makes a number
of differences
might be better
or compound
the situation
into  complex psychological
equations like fractals
branching  logic
into
the population
of branches and bushes
might I think twice
next time
of  
repercussions
consequences
before I go
barefoot wild
into the woods
and just try to do
it three times
first

gone learn it
this delicate complexity
of  a woman or the
English language
both seem like
my favorite subject
but both
I don't have
good luck with
might be subjects
left to mystery
and wondering abouts
instead of
trying to
figger out

while the servants rounded up the tea
and crumpets, I studied in my library, ancient
texts by some of the lesser known  poets.  Of
course I read Shakespeare and Wordsworth,
Blake has crossed my way,
Keats is a mainstay.
I sat in my Tudor Mansion  staring out one day
the stain glassed window
tried to find a certain book.
And it crossed  my mind,
it had not been written yet.
So I took my quill out,
and scribbled this,
I just remembered it.
I wrote it back when
I was regal and renowned
throughout the valleys and  hills
when I was called
LordVango!
Another life
another day
a world envisioned
a fantasy.

with dripping elegance
the Venus' Pride
the False Indigo
with proud long stem protruding
the Blue Curls dew
covered extend
roadside curtsies to all
who pass by
dancing
like cultured pearls
in the morning
light.

somewhere deep came a verse
that startled my universe made me stop
spinning take  notice
of it
made me remember things
that hurt and haunted and were  
deeply buried
it started with the word eternity
and continued
you can't hide from it
it is gonna catch up
eventually

high school head
under the bleachers
while the players footballed
and helmets clashed
and my sweet Stephanie
was giving me
so young we were
contracted to no one
just pleasure
and discovery
and the crowd roared
right when I scored
had my cheerleader
and a bottle of Boones Farm
and a  loud roar

snuck up on me in my drunken sleep
saw me snoring and  stupored  decided to keep on going
saw the piles of  cans in the corner
and snorted what a slob
I won't  waste precious energy here
went down the street, once did,
around the corner to her house ,
I don't  blame him, I once went there,
with a cheap bottle of whiskey
and she was fair, if but too talkative

childhood happy
our loving parents'  arms provided
safe and sound
when we  were sprouts undivided
from them
all needs-wants at our beckon call
to recall
is a blessing from life and all
the years
that have passed and disappeared
cannot
won't remove those times
for me

a color was a thought of painting
and poetry and literature
sadly
my son took a crayon
held it in the air  it was flesh
said right on the paper wrapper
and asked
dad, this says flesh
and I see all kinds  of color
in people,
why?
Why what?
I asked trying to narrow his
question down,
He said , it is  pink,
it don't look like my skin
or yours
and I wondered
if  I drew a man
do I have to use this to
color him with?
I answered , I don't know if
correctly,
no son,
use all the crayons
grab as many as you can
make a rainbow
man,
that would be better

beautiful people out there and time so few
to acknowledge each and every one of them
and tomorrow  comes so urgently
without pause relentlessly
I wish to write each and every one of them
and tell them what beauty they bring
to me and how I feel
but
I have to generalize I guess
and suspect if I write this
they who  are deserving
will know
they glow
a little more
than they do
now

of the news the world the hate
took a good book to bed
it was not a book by Weisel
or book of poems by Whitman,
for those were too, way too dark
oppressive, too non-fictional.
I took a book to bed to be read
by the innocent child in me
which rhymed
and made me think
of my mom and dad reading
it Dec 24th of every year,
a classic,
and sugarplums again
danced in my head,
I heard hoofs of tiny reindeer
and only wished
I had not taken down
my X-mas decorations
last year

at the beautiful sunrise at the stray cat
hiding beneath my van in the shade
trying to make believe she was hidden,
it brought me to mind that nothing can hide,
forever, eventually, some sun
breaks the hiding into dapples
of gold
and reflections of glitters
like diamonds
and sparkling cats eyes
trying to be
alive and
scared
of where she was
caught unawares
of the night ending