.

There you are
Playing domestics
Passing each other

Cups & saucers

While I sit
Being waited upon
To take it all in --

This apparition
Of simple bliss.

Why was this not possible
When roses bloomed
In the garden?

.

It's getting dark,
orange hugs the clouds on the horizon,
an outskirts of the city hue
holds the sky in a glowing embrace
and the moon...

The moon
smiles,
leans through the cloud
and kisses the apple tree.

The look in her eyes says,
'You need to kiss more..'

And do you know?

She
is
absolutely
right.

The Family Sylvilagus Transitionalis
live by the creek before The Scary-Wilderness.
All living on Tyler-Tickletoes Tillings
call them the Sylvi-Rabbits, to help shorten things.

They live in a green house, right by the creek bank -
a mansion really by rabbit-hole rank -
with five bedrooms, three family rooms, two baths
and a neat back garden with four footpaths.

When the morning aroma
brushed an olive tree,
it sent my soul free.
hushed the nestlings,
as if mystic lullabies.
silenced the angry waves,
and calmed the sea.
It stamped each blooming rose-bud
 with an exquisite freshness
announcing a new day 
for you and me.

...I

hi-yo
oh! motion motor
plunge forth
onto Omega

keep 'em rollin'
onward ho!
to Omega
all must go

....II

it creeps through the night
a deathhold
set to strike

suppress the scream

the sky too dark
too bold
too ever stabbing cold

even a single sigh
heaved high into the mighty, falls
awkwardly
backward
inward
shattering the frozen calm of acceptance

.....III

I feel sick….
Not nauseous…….not ill….. just sick…
Obsessed with perception………
Depressed from deception………..
Mind games…. Mortality…. Morality…. Out of control
Unable to comprehend……….to just chill…. And just roll with it
I’m thinking too much… out of touch… out of sync
Head full of bad wiring… I just sit here and blink….
Why can’t I just deal with shit?
Why Can’t I rise up?
To conquer my lunacy..
And stand up… JUST FUCKING STAND UP!!!
The fear is paralyzing…..
I wish I could shrink

She gazes out over the vast expanse of ocean,
Longing for her quiescent, brave love with soulful devotion

Loves everlasting candle with immortal flame,
Living, breathing, only to eternally whisper her true loves’ name

Burning in her heart sempiternal,
Through eyes sacred emotions shone sentimental

As her clinquant tears cascade free-fall,
She prays to God a wish with her all

For his safe return to her loving embrace,
A need no more to dream, to hold his precious face

No Silver Sermon

I stood in his house feeling the weight of age,
as he assumed knowledge of where the dead go
His insincerity rekindled my youthful rage.
why can’t we just end this demeaning show.

There is no god to strike me down,
when I refute his religious clown.
In all the storms I gladly go drown,
than board an Ark that bares his crown.

So now you understand or perhaps feel,
that you have gotten to know of me.
I can only have faith in what is real,
judgement will always be made,
on what I can see.

Sleet shushes me this winter eve
and bounces off my old felt hat
as chill wind sneaks up my coat sleeves
stealthy as a stalking cat

With shoulders hunched I walk along
through white which barely dusts the ground
toward cows lowing their same sad song
beyond the barn toward which I'm bound

They spy me and come at a trot
as they do 'most every day
toward their familiar feeding lot
where I fill their racks with hay

you make my day
as no one else does these days,
people walk my way
as never before
so many do come
to secretly read
the sexier.. blushier ones
silently...

now at times
I evaluate what I've written,
nothing from the world
has anything been hidden

all my poetry is off the cuff
I ain't no celebrity
nor, that kind of stuff ...
having plenty of
in a wallet ,called time

I compose poems
out of sync
many times out of rhyme