Banging on the gong
Gets her heart to thumping
Before it is too long
Her body starts to jumping

He bangs away all night
She doesn’t mind a bit
Jill thinks that it’s alright
She hopes he doesn’t quit

Jack is really great
He keeps on like a bunny
His timing is first rate
He don’t do nothing funny

He just keeps on the beat
Never falters once
She's potatoes, he’s the meat
Jack’s no bumbling dunce

Slam your heavy pains, woes
for nothing merits pain
A pristine twilight shows
a promisin' day to gain.

Clean the smell of hatred
with love we better grow
time should never be wasted
profit in the morrow.

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

As happiness lingers
think not of the poor past
Don't moan, cross the fingers
sorrows can never last.

why can't I have them - what I want?
You say to ask and I'll receive
requesting perky breasts to flaunt
I get ones hanging past my knees

why can't I have them when I ask?
You say all comes to those who wait
but I have boobs all long and gaunt
I'm not impressed, I'll tell You straight

I shouldn't place such store in them
they're really just appendages
but it's Your fault, 'cause You made men
with one-track minds throughout the ages

vista clean
the wiper blade
scream

dry between tears
its measured
heartbeat drop

like a needle on a habit
like a dirty shoe
on night long lost
trysts

falling

crystal sleet
clings to everything
dipped in glass

cinderalla bitch
sleeping

kiss kiss

I didn't sleep again today
but that is my usual way
I might write giddily and sway
it doesn't mean I've gone away

So I'll get up and walk around
for no purpose I can see
my general premise isn't sound
but I'll be the best that I can be

so wash and eat
is a good start
and a resounding fart
represents a stunning feat


this poem wasn't meant to mean
that godliness is always clean
so I'll will my mentor now ignore
and go back to bed and snore

The sacred hearts of old women
deserve to be worshiped on
an altar of reverence and dignity,
anointed with oils and earnest tears.

For here are stored the true memories
and secrets and dictates of life.
Old women know the power of the
universe, and the human heart.

Within those chambered nautilises
lies the answer to the humble paradoxes
of living and dying, hating and loving,
and the Sanskrit of ages passing.

1. Time and Space is an Illusion

For three days she and her tribe
wandered from star to star,
they saw many moons rising and falling
from the center of the universe.
Near the end of their journey,
their silence became overwhelming:
Earth had come into view, and the
blue-green dot was amazing, its white
encapsulating the sea foam they had
read about a thousand centuries ago,
before they had set out to discover
the only planet that was worshiped from afar,
for they were the first of their kind.

BY JESS''''I wasn't pre-empting when I said recently your poetry is getting better.
I was right. I think you are putting more thought into it.''''''

You have shown me the right path
into that tunnel of darkness
I groped all life long
now I wouldn't let you go
for the remaining life
which ain't
I suppose is too long ...

In garb drab, and cold, cold room
a hand dips brush in gold..
Transforms a sheet of vellum smooth
to story, lovely told.
.
Head bent low in candlelight
his hunger never fed,
for though this man of God has food
art takes it's place instead.
.
Notes not he, the winter chill
as he draws vines and flowers.
Concentrating in such depth,
his prayers are for hours.
.
That he may stay in his small cell
and finely draw the letters.
He lives a life colored so bright,

Answers? There...
-
answers? there
30 years devoid of air
clouds pushing low to ground
I am found, I am found
in a basement in Ohio
for fear of storm
the norm, the norm
-
I felt the blade on my forehead
briefly but
the cheers and dread
were mixed
I did the job
fixed up
free
called
debauchery
or whatever you like
the spike, the pike, the microphone
the words turn like
a telephone............................one way
-
another day