Margaritaville Choked to Death on Pink Umbrella Drinks

I lived
on an island
one glorious winter
and reveled in
the snow and the sand.

In Spring, the tourists came
like ants but not
to a picnic.

By the first day
of summer, they had
stripped the carcass
to the bone.

in its smallness

It's easier for some kind of fish to find food than others. Easier for some people to breathe, than others. Millions of "watchers" in the sea, but ony a handful of see-ers to go around. A single fish, swimming by itself, never looks over its dorsal fin. A single fish, looking for a mate, is netted. Like a patch of warm water in the sea bottom, magically self-contained in the palm of your hand. Where dimension loses meaning. And even the whale shark, the biggest fish of all, has to breathe sometime. It's gills pulsing, attracting his prey. And a single fish swims by, like a giant, omnipotent in its smallness.

The Last

They  say

I am                        the last of the lettered

They say

I am                        the last threat

They say

They are coming

soon

                                                          what                         They say

                                                                                will be all that remains

Scintillating is Delicious

Scintillating is delicious, as words go.

And it melts like smooth rich chocolate so

The word itself, though not the meaning,

Can get my salivaries streaming

With the succulence of its linguistic flow.

And in like ways does my lust grow

For those tasty letters that do blow

Into such words as glitz and gleaning.

Scintillating is delicious

So, I on you do these words bestow

In luscious French forms like this Rondeau,

To taste, to savor, with a light tongue teasing

The so many words so lasciviously pleasing,

Whispered with purring across our pillow.

Scintillating is delicious

Done

Just beneath the silver sky

Shredded clouds go flitting by

The crow glides past, then the hawk

They know it’s on Death’s door you knock

You the little mouse we’re mourning

You who offered us no warning

The world cut deep, so you cut deeper

Deep enough to greet the reaper

With skin quite thin you covered well

The bone frame of your empty shell

No heart, no mind, and now no shame

Since you’ve left all of us the blame

Just where did you think that you would go

Once your blood had ceased to flow

We would not be waiting there

To hear you moan of your despair

You wrote that you could just not find

The happiness and peace of mind

That you imagined we all had

Because we did not sound as sad

But fool you were and fools we too

So the last word you wrote is our last adieu

Goodbye

Stolen Innocence


Innocence is stolen. In dead of night.
Trusted friends and family unaware of my plight
Truth will be told brought to the light
My anguish revealed
Innocence is stolen.


Innocence is stolen. In dead of night.
I am not believed
No one believes me
They all prefer the lie
Innocence is stolen.


Innocence is stolen. In dead of night.
The child I once was gone now away
Forever departed stolen away
Truth, Anguish was revealed but none was believed
Whom can I trust now In myself I must believe
Innocence is stolen.

Winter Funeral

All around me people cry,
Hear the birds that fly in the sky,
The snow blankets the earth like mold,
Making the wind blow cold,
As we must, say goodbye.

Sadness, I can’t deny,
Bites me like a mad horsefly,
My heart feels like it’s been sold,
And all around me, people cry.

One day we all must fly,
Fight, to the last battle cry,
A hand of cards we must fold,
And look to the light that shines gold,
With the birds in the sky,
And all around me, people cry.

New born

Little hands
and tiny feet, a small body
holds a motion full head.

Eyes,
wide open to the world.

Night cries
and day time naps, an empty bottle,
a full belly.

Soft hair,
blond and bald.

Warm cheeks
and worms that glow.
Cradles that rock and songs that sooth.

Rockabye baby
It’s time for sleep.

Good Intentions

The road to Hell
The way is paved
Intentions of good
Will guide your way

You think being nice
Being kind and having a care
Will lift you up
Well you are in for a scare

Intentions of good have only one destination
One final place to rest
In damnation is your peace
Now try your best

To be nice
To be kind and have a care
If still you are intent
Then damned you’ll be
Damned to hell….I’ll see you there

Goodbye

Time
its flying by so fast,
I can hardly catch my breath.

Life used to be so easy,
‘Til all these thoughts came into my head.

Afraid of dying, Afraid of trying,
Afraid of losing everything.

Can’t you see, this is how it has to be,
I don’t want it to end this way,
But I have to do this, I have to go away.

This is my goodbye to you,
The darkness is coming to take me soon,

I know this is wrong,
but something inside me is right,

I have to go,
I have to leave tonight.

Since I Met You

Since I met you, all has been glue.
paralyzation pushing through,
and you're the only one who knew.
depleting strength and little might,
my wings are clipped, there's no more flight,
like submarines with missing crew

Confused. an endless avenue,
streetlights burn out, silence creeps too,
shadows devour things once bright.
Since I met you.

Maroon is found where once sky blue
health replaced by a deadly flu
journeying far, but losing sight
hopelessly, I can't get it right
desperately wishing to start new.
Since I met you.

The Painting

A plastered painting,
hangs on the wall
permanently glued

We know. we tried.

A repulsive painting,
that makes children cry
with only one glimpse.

why can't we take it down?

A spine-chilling painting,
Waiting, ready to strike
with shadowy claws

Just get rid of it!

A horrifying painting,
finds the right moment
and makes its final move.

Silence.

Bobble-Head

Thirty-five
in a fifty-five zone,
trapped behind an old man
with no way to pass.

through the window glass, I see
a tiny donkey staring out.
Its head moves this way and that
in rhythm with the uneven road.

bobbing up and down, I watch,
the tiny donkey grins,
and this continues for miles,
slowly moving forward,
with not much to be done.

so I follow behind
and stare at the donkey,
who cackles in my face
for getting stuck.

It makes me wonder,
who is the bigger ass?

Farmville

I Play. I think about it all day.
When it’s time for homework, I play.
In class. I am plotting my next move.
I dream about them creating a cove.
Maybe they will even create a bay.

I just brought some more bales of hay
for my horses. My crops will decay,
if I delay. A friend sent a dove.
I play.

I watch the pigs in their sties lay
in the mud. It’s time to plow. The horses neigh
constantly during the game. I drove
the red tractor through the fields. I love
to tend the crops And watch the flying Blue Jay.
I play.

Green Sticky Tablecloth

Every day I am used.

People push and pull at me.

They lean on me.

They even prop their feet up on me.

but there’s no apology.

They don’t even clean me off.

No one cares about me.

Of course when

The men in charge come, they hide

Me away and show off my cousins,

With all of their fanciness.

But they never brag about me.

I guess I’m too plain for them.

I guess I’m too ordinary for them.

Ordinary is nice.

Why can’t they care about

Ordinary and plain?

I never hurt them.

I am ALWAYS there for them.

I just lay here

And take their abuse.

For is that not what

Their mommas taught

Them to do??

I love them

Why won’t they

Love me back?

Farmer’s Food Ad

Yellow, Green, Red, Blue

Colors, Pictures and letters

Cover the page

Where buyers scan

Looking for the best buy.

No one stops to

Study the art.

Pictures so carefully taken.

No one stops to read the literature.

Font so carefully chosen so

No one will notice the limits

And restrictions.

No. All anyone cares about

Are the numbers.

Which numbers mean the better deal.

Nobody stops to take it ALL in.

Nobody.

Aria

Will your children sing?

Will their laughter ring?

So gaily as they go on,

Joyfully singing their song

Will your children sing?

Will they sing for long?

Will the rhymes be wrong?

When will their joy fade away?

How long will your children sing?

When will the pain come?

Turning their souls numb

Cold seeping to their small bones

Never again to see home

Will your children ever sing?

Japanese Autumn

Autumn is the best time
of any year in Japan.
The Grass is still soft to the touch
and green as can be.
The Wind is starting to turn
nippy to fight against the heat of Summer.


And yet, the real treat isn’t all that.
malachite, gold, cardinal, jessamy colored leaves
flow softly in the breeze, the smell
of morning Dew and afternoon Sun
riding upon them.
The sound of Cicadas and
the chirp chirp of Japanese Cranes mixing with
a flowing Stream.
Autumn is like sleeping
Japanese Bobtail kittens in the warm Sun.

Hero

I will fight – to win, to protect, to gain power
In any situation, I refuse to cower
With armor protection and sword in my hand
I continue being a hero by scouring the land
Despite differentiating sizes, over all, I tower

I slice through flesh and bone, hurrying to the gray enemy tower
The smell of blood, always on me despite the showers
Beautiful Princess, I am coming, to save you and
I will fight!

Monsters and mini-bosses fall to my sword, leaving powder
Swordfighting is an alluring dance that never sours
The defeat of the boss is my goal I shall deal firsthand
Yet at the end, all will restart like a grand
plan. Repeating and changing within many hours.
I will fight!

I am Safe

Nobody sees
The me within
Hidden from sight
Shut out from the world
Scared and ashamed

Then here you come
Strong and sure
You broke down my walls
You blasted your way in
You pulled out the truth into revealing light

The world still rejected me
But you remained
My strength
My guardian
I believe you were sent to be

My shelter from the judgment

Now somebody sees
The truth within
Brought to Light
Open to the world
Still scared and ashamed

But I no longer care
For I have
My strength
My guardian
I am safe

Pantoum ( A Cry)

A tortured cry

Push & Shove

Please make it stop

Toying with emotions

Push & Shove

Sanity Broken

Toying with emotions

She can't take it anymore

At wits end

Her mind is made up

She can't take it anymore

At wits end

Her mind is made up

She can't take it anymore

Nothing will stop her

her mind is made up

A flick of the wrist

Nothing will stop her

A crimson tear

A flick of the wrist

She's done it now

A crimson tear

No turning back

She's done it now

A tortured cry

No turning back

Please make it stop

One of Many in a Series

Smooth but imperfect
Ah, such bitter saltiness
–shh, still now little bird
The smell of fear weaves around us like a silk sheet
The mounds heave for my attention
one slice
two slices
three slices…
Each imperfection I make correctly, eagerly yet not hastily
My knife gives special loving everywhere
My hands flutter along her smooth skin
My tongue tastes her red essence as it becomes free
so much, so beautiful, so close to perfection
My little bird, can you hear me?
–shh, we still have much do.

In My Head

Of course you're a
Friend bitch
Yes, you're a great
Friend liar
Of course you're a
Sweetie whore
Yes, we'll be friends
Forever For never
Of course you're the
Best Worst
I love you Hate
Friend Bitch

teach me to howl

You are the anti-counselor
eating won ton soup with chopsticks
and casting licentious glances,
painted in a redwood faux finish;
Your bell curve standardly deviates
though your data lies in a penumbra.
Your coat of arms is millifleur;
dandelion wine and apricot sauce
you bacchanalian fool, you.
You are neither basilisk nor mermaid,
you are a monochrome chameleon
and you would teach me to Howl?