What Time Have You
So here I am at seven o’clock
Umm, that’s not the real time
Its where in my maze I’m lost at
Is really 9:20am to fix the rime
Lost inside this place
Of my own making
So I am amazing
Ain’t anybody here faking
Two glasses gone
A merlot for moi
What’ll you have—
Muscadine for toi?
Truelove went to Maine
Chances favor the Bentley
But we‘ll go home alone
Just saying truth, incidentally
No answers from my imprudent text
Who knows what’s coming next,
Chances swarm and the mind reels,
I wonder is that how kismet feels.
Around the bend and around the corner
Such nights as these I could be a goner
But the parade comes thither and anon
Beads, doubloons, and lingering glances and I’m so gone
Over my head for the goddess up ahead
Only to return solo to my Lysol-kissed unmade bed
Cat gets his insulin in the morning
Nine units to keep him alive
You think live isn’t fair
Well, I can’t disagree Clive
So here I am at nine o’clock
Umm, that’s not the real time
It’s just where in my maze I’m lost at
Is really midnight to fix the rime
And
I haven’t words
Let alone verses,
Lost inside these memories
And all those unshouted curses
Over undelivered king cake
And distant disdaining lovers.
It’s terribly alone and cold,
Kibitzing with the cat under covers.
All I want to do
Is laugh, dance, and sing:
Without tissues
Or stirring issues
That don’t mean a thing.
I haven’t time
Nor seconds to spare
To at last convince you
That I just might really care:
Over unfulfilled promises,
My remonstrating old lover.
Might we picnic again
In Audubon Park’s clover?
All I need do
Is having married you instead:
Without pale issues
Needing nearby tissues
Next to the unmade bed.
I lack the K, S, and A’s
Let alone the brains
To make good this sad lyric
Who’s refrain sorely strains
Over past years and lies—
A poor shattered kite
That no longer flies,
As I savor the dreams
Of the joy twixt your crossed thighs.
All I want to do
Is laugh, dance, and sing:
Without issues
Reaching for tissues
Badabop Badabing.
Poor Little Sweet Tooth
What? No petit fours?
Tres triste tous les jours!
And no fruit cake?
For goodness sake!
And nary a praline…
How absurdly obscene!
Poor, poor little sweet tooth
Not a thing to satisfy your craving—
It’s just enough to drive a little kid
To squander that Snickers he was saving.
How about some sufganiyot?
Anything sweet have you got?
Or perhaps a coffee attending a beignet?
Please, please, something sweet for us today!
Poor, poor little sweet tooth
Such sufferings for you, forsooth!
For you such a paltry slog—
Not even a single Yule log!
So when comest these holidays,
And tastes edge toward the saccharine,
Better be good and don’t even pout—
They’ll be no sugar dusting for your chagrin!
So poor dear little sweet tooth
When sweets seem rare without reason
Best bend your little craving thoughts
Towards why deeply sweet in this December season.
Peace and Shalom!
In the Dark We Know
At times, at night,
Oft after midnight,
My mind won’t let loose the words,
For fear lest I might let fly,
Spiced brocaded prose one cannot call back—
All those burning bridges
Built to serve and to smolder.
What must you think of me?
We’re all getting quite older.
Truths unsaid,
Curses not cast,
Happily ever after—
Will this wrinkled love ever last?
Give you space,
I take the time,
Lost in the meaning
Inside this sorry rhyme.
I desire to once occupy your keen eye
While I hide behind a sordid old lie.
Turning 50,
Turning 60,
70 and 80 come now too soon—
Can we teenagers ever see past the besotting Moon?
Yes, Bedtime
Go to bed, go to bed
You’re up much too late
Oh, go to bed—
Or tomorrow you won’t feel so great
It’s time for dreams
Time to lay you down
Now don’t give me such a fuss
Now don’t bust me with that frown
Peter Pan, Whirling Dervish,
Horton with his Hoo
Roll over under your covers
You know what you have to do
Snuggle up to your pillow
You’ve said all your prayers
Sling away you fears
Drop away all those cares
Sandman says to breathe
As Momma strokes your brow
Might as well go to sleep
There’s nothing new brewing anyhow
Then in the fresh morning
Breakfast will be awaiting
With a new day to fly on high
Oh such adventures anticipating!
Sleep baby sleep
Dream sweetest dreams
Sleep baby sleep
All is as well as it seems
Fair Sky Warning
The sun set on down
And the sky went black
My heart broke in two
I’ll never get you back
The sun soared up
And the sky shined blue
I’ll remember those times
Giggling alone with you
A new noon jumped in
The temps broke so hot
Will 67 find a new love?
One never knows, like as not
The storms roared over the horizon
With a new day dawn undaunted
Who wants to dance with me—
Our spins, dips, and reels most flaunted
Pages of my blank open book flip and turn
Write your name down, maybe this time I’ll learn
Yours Truly, Until
So I just stood there
Stupid turned and one-half step taken
She sweet gave me her number
But all was already in vain and forsaken:
I had refused to hear—
Her heart busted to smithereens;
A lifelong love basely shattered
By passion thoughtless as it careens
Over such delicate mornings and deep nights
Which live in the gossamer hearts of our dreams;
And her I merely dare to take a turn
In her knight’s livery rent to it’s very seams.
Maybe I might could call?
Or even risk a texted message?
To her so lovely, lonely self
Of the yoga and the massage?
My hand paralyzed, quick stayed;
My breath caught in my chest;
Come we again to a path diverging:
Heed the call? Or, to demur is best?
Festivals beckon in Acadiana,
And I so wish with her to dance,
But I can’t see any clear path
Where I even stand a chance.
So, patiently one ought wait,
And hope quickly for the thaw,
When signals are made clear
That it could be okay to make a call.
So, presently sending fervent wishes
With love in neutral just over the hill,
But whatever future turns may come,
Signed: Yours truly, Until~
Beyond
We hie to meet on the crest
Of that far off north hill
Beyond the befogged dale
And hope to remember still
Old promises to share
And dreams to keep
Deep into a dark cold night—
Wherever lost is our chance to sleep.
Where has our 7-throned dragon flown?
Can the slaughter of Irpul be forgiven?
Where has conscience and care and mercy
And plain humanity been off driven?
But find me in the womb of the dale,
Mountain tops are for lords and masters;
My path leads to despair and slogged trial
Cleaning up after others’ so well-planned disasters.
The commander points us towards Kyiv—
The butcher bill is yet but half-paid.
The game goes on, we put in our ante,
All the corpses sweetly in tight alignment laid.
Moscow rest on a fresh sea bottom;
Would the Kremlin be chasing after
And I can return home to clean off
The cobwebs that enshroud the bare rafter?
Hah, how the yankees stand supporting Ukraini
Hiding behind those NATO euro-skirts!
But tis time to stand and march for hilltops,
No matter if back, soul, and eye hurts.
One day I hope to walk past that far crest…
Commander says Attack! I guess it’s for the best.
Fog and Fireflies
The fog rolled in
And left me insufficiently clear
The reason for the day
Was made overwhelmingly dear
13 crashed the truck
9 angels departed Midland
The Vladomyrrs remain stuck
With Ares flames fully fanned
Then the sun rearose
Warming our sad refrain
Hope akindles slowly
For our brothers in Ukraine
The fog rolled out
And we’re left with tears anyway
We wish you brighter hopes
On this too-dark St Patrick’s Day
Wait for the fireflies to wing you evensong cheer
Pray that soon all brothers can live in the clear
Kitt
pueriles 