Category: Poetry

Cemeteries on the go.
Made from yes & made from no.

Burial, quick turnaround.
Stacking bodies below ground.

Plots for rent but not for sale.
Five allowed for mourners’ wail.

Then it’s up & outta here.
Grass grows dull without its tears.

Our ends are not ours stave.
Living’s penalty is grave.

Soon, it seems, Death may speed up…
As cult leaders proffer cup. 

Some times…we get one tiny nudge.
Whereas, before, we would not budge.

Some times…we wouldn’t ever see.
Whereas, seen much clearer by thee.

Some times…a stranger’s in the crowd.
Whereas, kismet knew not one cloud.

Some times…family’s just in time.
Whereas, on me, they’ve laid no crime.

Some times…I come thru on my own.
Whereas, I reach & get dial tone.

We Artists would trade sanity for a happy Muse.
Yet, glad or sad, clouds or rain…I would not, Muse-abuse.

When she whispers, I fly to her…almost every time.
I only shy away from her when her light is lime.

She plants a kiss of insight upon my furrowed brow.
I rush to my studio…record what she’s said now.

Me, she visits more than once on solitary days.
I’ve forgotten what she says before I’ve pen & page.

Sat there sore in self-pity with blank page & blank mind. 
Soon ignited, or relieved, by what she’s left to find.

I’ve writ of my final plot; the garden in me trenched.
Don’t lay for me a headstone; but craft me stone bench.

I’ve built my garden graven grove in other yarns.
I won’t repeat those details, for this construct’s my cairn.

The backrest should say “LEVi; He Did His Best…He Tried.
Armrests should have dates; when I was born & when I died.

Come in the gloaming; whilst my garden’s dew is glistening.
One leg says, “Have a seat.”…the other says, “I’m listening.”

True or false, you’ll decide; when you’re sat there in my copse.
Laughing wind rustles leaves…a peach & a penny drop.

Seems we’re all obsessed with looking hot naked…
As if our clothes have us incarcerated.

Now, I’m always up to get a bit cheeky.
I  hold it down, however I’ve grown peaky.

Three hours physical therapy a day.
Not to mention maintaining standards gay.

It’s hogwash; but I’ve been indoctrinated.
Small chance I may have vanity conflated?

Either way my skin fits me; covered or bare.
I’m reading your mind & there is some there there.

Maybe try seeming hot; whilst you are still donned.
Far more work to look “hot”…with all your clothes on.

The fashion police are resorting to violence.
The cause is this bright podiatric appliance.

They’re incorrect & accepted now everywhere.
Inside Congress & boardrooms…I have seen them there.

Ubiquitous, though, among our tourist culture.
This offense designed by American vultures.

Originated under the peaks of Boulder.
Then on to international usage blunder.

These are not the shoes in which the erudite walks.
Plastic & socks?…scary as reptilian crocs.

I am not scrap; I am salvage.
Do not pop my hood to ravage.

The family inside; all paid up.
Seats on the engine block to sup.

Lifting that bonnet will be rough.
Scattering mice except one’s scruff.

For, I snatched harder than I meant.
Yet, I don’t harbor mal intent.

Still, those who say, “Just kill them fool”.
I could destruct…but building’s cool.

They’ve the walls & yard; I’ve my home.
We never cross those lines to roam.

Follow T & you’ll be
in a world of total immolation.

Take a look & you’ll see
into your incineration. 

He’ll begin with a din
ostracizing every sovereign nation.

What you’ll see may just be 
annihilation. 

If you’re gonna sing Edelweiss,
simply put on brown & cue it.

All this awful shit, they’ll do it.

Want to burn the world?

There’s nothing to it.

There is no place I know
 to stay hid from all misinformation.

Here or there no one’s free…
Clearly they don’t wanna be.

***

If you wanna be cannibals, 
He would probably let you do it.
Anything you want to screw it.

Blowing up the earth…

One but-ton to it. 

But before all the gore;
We’ll be put in camps of concentration.

Dying there, you’re aware…
you were warned about the fee.

Are you horny; Are you flat?
Does your every landing go Splat!

Your whole life-soggy splashes.
Wet Drag-Queen with those eyelashes.

Maybe you are poisonous?
Beauty liquifies frozenness.

Squat in dark, damp, swamp gases.
Evolved gifts…water-tight asses.

Opaque skin both pink & mint.
Aurum eyelids, bedazzled glint. 

Lashes, gold warts, gilded toes.
Far too pretty, these AI toads.