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Poetry

My Lexicon

i want to create a word

put my word in sentences

holding back nothing

no word

no thought

just go

as jamie says

“bleed words”

i want to spit out my lexicon

show you what i got

tear a hole

and stick my word

in your earshot

i want nothing to be

restrained

nothing to be

arranged

just flow

like a river

a flow

the damn carousel

“you put in the quarter…”

et cetera

et cetera

Asleep

The weights are pulling me down

Shooting me away then pulling

Me back down.

My arms – weightless; yet life’s fears

Pull me down into weightlessness.

I am gone.

Memories

Thoughts blinding me as I

Walk down a secret avenue. I stop.

Imagine. Create. It’s there. No

Need to be touched – manipulated.

Perfection. Everyone around me:

Perfect. Situation; life; perfection.

Only in my mind create.

Sunset - December 12

Splatter of beauty. Gentle strokes

Of elegant copper, ochre, scarlet

Creation. Magician’s work. Excellence

Imagined as one life ends. The

Meeting of two worlds long departed.

Merengue - December 12

Monotonous rejoicing

Shattered by sporadic stomps,

Steps; imagination manifested;

Spinning; accompanied once again

By the monotony; creating mystic grace.

You, good sir, are most certainly idiotic.

For your insult, I must say, wasn’t the least bit exotic.

It is impossible to deem

That you could be at all mean,

When your line

Has no spine

And my dear ol’ heart

Doesn’t break apart.

Not to say I am callous or cruel,

But here are a few carps for a fool:

Heartening: “You only weigh that much because of your boobs.”

Psychiatrist: Don’t worry. With things like those, everyone would get booed.

Salesperson: Perhaps basketballs would be less cumbersome?

Warning Label: This brassiere liable to succumb

To weight exceeding 90 pounds.

Upgrading: “They’d be better if they made sounds.”

Assumption: I think it’s safe to say this one has a womb.

Irritated: With those peaks here, there couldn’t possibly be room.

Horny: If I didn’t know any better I’d spoon ‘er.

Apologetic: I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner,

I couldn’t get over the Himalayas.

Expression: She’s got cleavage like the San Andreas,

Deep and dangerous.

Blunt: Your bust is enormous!

And so, young lad,

I personally would be glad,

Instead of mocking

You’d hope for in your stocking

Some beautiful and bare

(Not Liana’s derriere)

But a duet of breasts

To put to the test.

Sonnet 30 by William Shakespeare

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought

I summon up remembrance of things past,

I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,

And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:

Then can I drown and eye (unused to flow)

For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,

And weep afresh love's long since canceled woe,

And moan th' expense of many a vanished sight:

Then can I grieve at grievances forgone,

And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er

The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,

Which I new pay as if not paid before.

But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,

All losses are restored and sorrows end.

Poem by someone else, unknown, sent to me by Miriam, thanks Babe!

Friend,

When you are sad...

I will help you plot revenge against the sorry bastard who made you sad....

When you are blue...

I'll try to dislodge whatever is choking you....

When you smile...

I'll know you finally got laid....

When you are scared...

I will tease you about it every chance I get....

When you are worried...

I will tell you horrible stories about how much worse it could be and tell you to stop Whining...

When you are confused...

I will use little words to explain it to your dumb butt....

When you are sick ...

Stay the hell away from me until you're well again. I don't want whatever you have...

When you fall...

I will point and laugh at your clumsy butt....

This is my oath...

I pledge 'til the end....

Why you may ask?

Because you're my friend!

ps -A friend will help you move, but a really good friend will help you move a body.

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