Another armored animal–scale
lapping scale with spruce-cone regularity until they
form the uninterrupted central
tail row! This near artichoke with head and legs and
grit-equipped gizzard,
the night miniature artist engineer is,
yes, Leonardo da Vinci’s replica–
impressive animal and toiler of whom we seldom hear.
Armor seems extra. But for him,
the closing ear-ridge–
......
I tell jokes, but I tell them slant.
Laughter sheds light on the darkness of my candor.
Amusement frees the weight off of my afflictions.
Smiles accompany the loneliness of my sincerity.
I tell the truth, but I tell it slant.
Friday 5 July 2024
What would I do without laughter?
A sad place indeed, it would be.
The funnies..the sillies..whatever it takes
for the sound of laughter.
Never laughing at someone else..
Only sharing together the humor of the moment..
Makes a lighter load to carry
Of the burdens we face..
If there is also a little laughter.
Wait
This can't be a mistake
The morning light
Is just too bright
We've overslept
Curled up in bed
Now we must rush
......
I've got to tell you
how I love you always
I think of it on grey
mornings with death
in my mouth the tea
is never hot enough
then and the cigarette
dry the maroon robe
......
And now it starts,
And yes, I'm back at last,
Four years of trials and tribulations,
Capped off by this raucous jubilation.
I fought and won,
Proved them all wrong,
The denigrators,
The fake media perpetrators.
......
I tell jokes, but I tell them slant.
Laughter sheds light on the darkness of my candor.
Amusement frees the weight off of my afflictions.
Smiles accompany the loneliness of my sincerity.
I tell the truth, but I tell it slant.
Friday 5 July 2024
Why do politicians lie
And our wallets deftly pry,
Puff and bluster all the time
Their intent to cheat sublime.
Are we dumb or just naive
Of that talent to deceive,
Smiles aplenty to go round
While broken promises abound.
......
Wait
This can't be a mistake
The morning light
Is just too bright
We've overslept
Curled up in bed
Now we must rush
......
I stand back, and light the fuse,
hoping, to awake my muse.
She could be found anywhere,
yet, when I call her, she's not there.
In field of clover, with no pen,
my muse flies to me again.
When I'm busy, hard a work,
she teases me, what a jerk.
......