Your place or mine?
Eyes careening in depth—
I line your profile into the divine.
Verbing strives insistent;
Efforting to the new day:
P’haps time for some laundry.
He coughs, I think, we say.
Nouns are overwrought;
Clasp this aging hand.
Child graduates and works,
Writing promises in the sand.
Present so imperfect:
Get your damn shot!
Why bleach your mask?
Nicole gives it all she’s got.
Is the past really simple?
The earthling hopes for answers,
But priest, poets, and politicians never ever speak true.
While Logic Impaired.
The World spins on axistically.
If you ask me, we’re all scared.
Want to toss you from the window
Kick you on down the hall;
Totally because of another Covid Solstice,
Songs will blame you for everything and all.
Twasn’t quite all the lies
That drove me deeply into the mad,
It was lingered honeyed phony histories
That made us all go aware into the bad.
Acid lyricism beat upon ragged congas—
Tattoo played upon my head that storied eve:
Another sterling child father moment never ending,
Still now for your passing, and embrace, I still grieve.
Six feet under is the agreed protocol,
Yield thee to the last cool embrace of Death;
Whether or not you’re ready or not at all:
Lastly arrives the time to draw one’s last breath.
Don’t cry , don’t blink—
Missus Vera is buried today.
Of course I still love you;
I’m just alone and have lost my way
So it was in an old era of insufficient chocolate
And there wasn’t a whole lotta love going on too
I remember she had packed her oh so pretty face
Which left with her name through International Departures Gate Two
But it was really really raining, coming down real hard
Tropical Storm June was plying her blowing trade about town
The lights all went out when all the lines all went down
As luck would have it the red candle sputtered, caught, and glowed
And there’s lotsa lots of fish in the sea, or so I’m told
So we gotta get us a Whitman’s Sampler
And perhaps a new forever love, for true
Blonde, brunette, or gray, even a gambler
But she’s gotta know as I’ve not the least clue
Next morn the tree killers buzzed through the hood
Cutting away the branches, clutter trees, and opened up my road
Twas a new Time for more insurance claims stories, a la mode
But I shredded all that old paper, I’m retired ya know
And the cat needs his vet shots and now I really gotta go
It’s a rough finding you’ve only two M&Ms
And which would be the wrong color, just to be sure
In this odd time of insufficient love and chocolate
Perhaps in a wrapped Arc d’Triompe we can find a cure
There’s a side-of-the-road sunflower
Standing over there all alone
So proud so young so very tall
Started out a weed and now quite full grown
Just an old roadside sunflower
Reaching hard for the sky
How it keeps on going
I couldn’t begin to tell you why
Seems proud that highway sunflower
Against all the elements it must fend
While the cars, trucks, and buses
Fly by, but that sunflower will not bend
Despite thunder rains and snap freezies
Even a CAT 4 hurricane or two
Our side-of-the-road sunflower still stands
Proud chile of Mother Nature being so true
Oh don’t you wish you might just could
Give our children such lasting power
To withstand bad nature, reverses, and all
Like our old roadside sunflower
Oh such sadness
Oh such deep remorse
The old poet has lost the rhyme
For him there’s no recourse
In vino veritas
Has left for brighter shores
The laundry needs folding
Our simile likes whatever’s yours
Oh my my, O mercy me
Here comes that Kentwood child
Scrumptious in all her filigree
Goodness gracious, why must she sashay so wild
The taliban slaughtered some high schoolers
Six o’clock news as old as Cain and Abel
Want to understand the matter black of it all—
Best lay all your cards on the table
Oh dearie dear me
One’s mere life is no bull
9-1-1 has lost your address—
Hope your unsurance is paid in full
Tell me you want to be craved
Tell me you’ve already been saved
Tell me to linger just a while—
Come on over here sweet honey chile
Say you wanna go dance right here
Say you’ll tarry in the Artmosphere
Say things may be hot, maybe moist—
Come o’er here and kiss me foist
Run down the road to Alexandria
Run down new dreams outside California
Run down the best you ever seen—
Come o’ here lil Cajun queen
Run, tell, say why our romances all fall, fail, and crash
Only we do it again at the long crisp linger of the cymbal’s splash
I shot my COVIDs
I got my health
Missing is Lifelong Love—
Happily-ever-after prefers it stealth
I got my full glass—
A little red from Sonoma
Future graduate is well
Three months til honor’s diploma
I got my Brussel sprouts
Thrill-drizzled with virgin olive oil—
Spiked with a spritzle of lemon pepper
And pausing my shuffle off this mortal coil
My shoulder still hurts
Another stellar vaccine reaction
News to me that I’m okay
Perhaps they ought print a retraction
I shot my COVIDs
I got my health
Sojourning in Alexandria—
In my friends I count my wealth
Wouldn’t it be great
If I could soon pollinate
But can’t seem to find the right flower
So here is your Bee
Down on bent, creaky knee
Hoping to sway in love’s power
You certainly do impress
With your floral print dress
How it adds to your bonny dower
And I’m sorta pretty cute
Before you in my old King Bee suit
O Queen, let’s retire to yonder regal tower
Certainly would be grand
Take me hand-in-hand
We’ll whisk off to the nearest private bower
Ah, but still here by myself
No bees, dwarfs, nor elf
In isolation how I lowly cower
So on this first day of Spring
Not doing much of anything
Only to enjoy the next soft shower
It could be so great
If I would soon pollinate
But can’t seem to find the right flower
Why am I thinking of King Cake
Wreathed in a tether of flowers
I much prefer being on my iphone
I could just stay on here for hours
Oh there’s that boy from New Orleans
He’s been here for quite a while
He’s not all that bad looking
Maybe should put him in the Maybe File
Isn’t there someone out there for me
Who too likes long walks and talks
A guy who’d love me for being me
And not a toy to be kept in a box
Oh such a silly text from Sally
About that party last June
Yes, we should get together
And it probably ought to be soon
LOL, TTYL, and LUMOA.
Now time to say hi to Dad
Tell him I’m making the next Dean’s List
I love how he’s so supportive, and glad
That I’m my own true person—
Talented, thrifty, and pretty nice;
Cuz today’s awesome women
Are so much more than sugar and spice!
And still there’s that boy from New Orleans
He’s been here for more than a while
He’s not all that bad looking—
Maybe I could hazard one smile?
I wanna send you flowers
Or maybe some Mardi Gras cake;
To become your next someone
I’d do whatever it’d take,
Get you look up from your phone,
And get you on over here;
But to take such heartfelt risks
Causes such a shrinking fear.
Daisies, ‘glories, roses, or tulips?
Purple and green and some gold?
Or sip some liquor, ‘tis quicker,
At least so’s I’ve been told.
But I want us pure, clear, and real
Not lost in a sick dawn’s early mist—
As a week later you’d do a whimsey start
Remembering how we had finally kissed.
Call me a florist of winged feet
For a bouquet to melt yonder rock!
Look up, look up from that anchor phone—
Eyes to eyes, can’t we find room to talk?
I wanna send you some flowers
(And someday plan wedding cake);
Can I become your next someone?
Look up, look up, for Heaven’s sake!