happiness through sex....
the whole purpose of sex
if any at all
was to procreate
and
thus create
a new entity
you call it happiness
I call it a kid
love is the essence of all living,
remove sex
and
there would be no need of life
no strife
no need of seeking happiness,
as you shall have nothing to compare
no theory of relativity
and there wouldn’t ever have been
an Einstein
and
a mind
like mine

memory
of that which is done
enfolded within the scar
of a remodelled heart

a vessel
for that which is left
dates, name
frogs
and an icon

a song
for that which will always be
jeremiah was a bullfrog
was a good friend of mine*

*Three Dog Night

Turning clean sharp edges rough
as do the mists of passing time,
their tiny drops adorn my coat
with shiny crystal beads
as delecate as frozen rime
and small as ripe pearl millet seeds.

I wipe them off with hands grown rough
hunch my shoulders to belay damp chill
then quietly cough to clear my throat
as if it's clogged with swallowed tears;
take a deep breath to steel my will
while standing in this wooded place.

BITTER AND SWEET (rhyme patterns SS)

O the wonders of the spring
all the song birds perched to sing
a wasp just stung me on the ass
I've got to cut the freakin' grass

With flowers blooming everywhere
I've more than enough love to share
pollen swells my nose and eyes
new fire ant mounds which I despise

Ladies' fashions become spare
belly buttons and midriffs bare
along with men's knobby knees
plumbers' butts shine in the breeze

The sun shines with broken seasonal rains
Besides, the wind blows on, all the year round
Carrying with it soft sounds since silenced
From the mouth of one who was first to speak
Harvested crops found their way to stomachs

Through the filtered nature of tinted self
Draped in a cloak of grey on smoggy screen
The protector of sacred scrolls dictates
I fight to transmit with quill pen and ink
Jotting words with difficult maneuver

another ditch
another pitch
another screaming bitch....
maybe that's what one sees
when one is in the gory of it all,
some pain
some sorrow
but clap the multitudes all
a bout perhaps of joy
and
happiness for the boxer’s collection
ends in matchlessness
that’s what all wrestling is about
another money making
stitch perhaps
after all.

I don't have a pleasant voice
so when I attempt to croon
the result is far,far from a tune
but rather a croaking type noise. (first stanza done by Stan)

My notes aren't always balanced
they're either sharp or flat,
but I don't give a jot for that
as I'm by mood influenced.

Some while ago I wrote a song,
I called it 'Song for Jenny'
but my doubts grow as oft plenty
that to her my voice won't ding dong.

RE-WRITE

Slam your heavy woes
for nothing merits pain
after promising day's gain
a pristine twilight shows
 

Clean the smell of hatred
with love we always grow
and profit in tomorrow
for time should not be wasted
 

Now, hurry up! come on dear
and put your hand in mine
our ways with gold will shine
with our intentions clear
 

Happiness gleans no dust
think not of the poor past
sorrows could not last
when in our future we place trust
 

sleep-work, work- sleep
days drift
immersed in a void
of sameness

mind tires
concentration slips
reality tips
the hologram quivers

an insubstantial shimmer
reveals a glimpse
a glimpse

but
with only the tools of the mirror
the soul cannot grasp

time melts
as rain and shine, dark and light
slither past
on the way
to future ennui

and
the illusion persists
.

nacht//////////////

I am wound
My armature is sprung

you leave the shadow between
light and hate
it has come
It has swung

autumn journey of the waiting
prepared
these vault sleepers
these Love seekers

tear touched
and lip pressed
with trembling souls

Alive!
Alive!

they are landing
rising
like concussion mists