What the hell?
In my eye,
that's where you fell.

What the hay?
You're s'posed to last
all freakin' day!

I wonder why
you insist on messin'
with my eye.

Quit it now!
Hold still while
I pluck you out.

Oh my god!
You're so big
and black and odd.

I hope no body
Else could see
How my eyeliner betrayed me.

gracious

Sir you Sir me,
a non poet that I be
but
that you do read
yet not comment,
for that I have no lament

as you are on the Board now
will you introduce the system...
wherein we could once know how
many read
and
so to ourselves say
wow!.

No artist is complete
unless praise is showered
ones work is replete
Emotion-less
pathetic

As ephemeral
as yellow leaves
on poplar trees
in early fall

Or the first frost
on window glass
doomed soon to pass
and thus be lost

So, too, grains
of years pass by
matters not how hard we try
on time we never will make gains

ON MY 70Th YEAR
There is no wound deep enough
for regrets or recrimination
no yesterday worth sanctification
and no asking worth the knowing,

I am a question not an answer
and I anguish over my own mystery.
There is no Glory in living
for living is what we are meant to do.
There is no Honor in ending
for ending is what we have to do.

Desolation

A sheet of paper as blank as my mind awaits inspiration.

Gradually my surroundings change and I find myself at the centre of a white wilderness.
A wilderness whose inhospitable landscape stretches endlessly from horizon to horizon flat and unbroken. Its sheer emptiness and desolation forces itself on my senses intimidating me.
Tears well from my eyes and freeze, glinting like diamonds in the midnight sun.

Unknown to me a kindred spirit looks back from the emptiness of space.

And,........
I don't really need
that many friends anyway
and, .......
I don't have
all that much extra time
and, .......
things always get complicated
and,......
calls get dropped
at the most inconvenient
moments
and, .....
text messages just tend
to aggravate instead of inform
and, ....
I get tired
and, .....
these fucked-up moodswings
come so suddenly
and
recede unevenly
or linger
like a gloomy overcast morning

To you,
that separated your children
creating this wide orb of confusion,
take a bow oh great and wonderful never was ...

Your end is around the bend,
the smell has hit your uh-oh senses,
found you missing your wit,
hard isn't it
swallowing your own shit.

One day I'll pilgrim my way to you,
find your scent among the adders
and constrict your venomous spoutings.

Being a teenager is hard
So many things happen at once,
So many expectations and obligations.

At times I gather strength to go on
Or simply I break down,
Wanting to give up,letting go.

The are days when I need a hand
A hand to touch me,
And tell me that everything will workout.

Somedays I need a hug
A voice to tell me am loved,
And needed in this life.

Somedays I need a soft look
That tells me someone understands,
And I was not born by accident,
That I am in the right direction with my life.

The Moon.

The moon her yellow fingers, grasses light,
invisibly pale, white, underfoot a winter crunch,
a cloudless sky, the pastel globe afloat on the
blue moat of our castle home, as she in azure
heavens waked by dawn, a perfect sphere,
this october day, two thousand and eleven.

I know its last years! LuvAnn.

.
lay beneath the crest of a dream
troposphere grave
glean of a hot scene

the frost fire sheen