Daily Poetry & Prose

Laid low by the lullabies  run through by the raspberries tickled pink by the jellyfish gunned down by the gumdrops I'm flat tire American beer can industrialist kangaroo hopping Socialist banging on the door Fun and games riverbed Mississippi marketplace Cab Calloway trampoline I get my groove bilaterally Iced with a garden hose Rocked to the apple core Gassed in the barbed wire Painfully remembered Fourth of July fireworks picnic fork tidal wave Fred Astaire bake sale Damn that is some good banana bread.

I am the asterisk, the amplifier I am the ambulance, the town crier I am the asterisk, I am the amplifier I am the am the attitude, I am the latitude, I am the gratitude I am the shhhh...she's talking  and the She gonna have to do better than that I am the black cat and the house fly the zucchini and the french fry the absurd and the serious but no matter what I claim to be I will never really be me for I  the true I I am the undercurrent I am the dust under the rug I am the space between the floor boards I am the apple core I am everything and nothing I am the always I am the sound between the passing cars Life is the ocean and I  am the submarine

I've been afraid to write hung over counting sheep and dogs we are living in the age of content but I've been quiet laying on  the cement floor

 Alright. I will ban together all the banned books, read each one, then lay here and think.

I walk down the blacktop path and memorize and mutter iambic pentameter. I have no plan to write them down, not here. I want to give up 100 to the Gods first.

Take 3 Her legs hung over the ledge of Heaven she spilled wine and sugar into my mouth like a riddle It came out of my ears a Robin's egg on my tongue when I opened my mouth to sing. Guided by the cherubs locked in her robes.  ----------- Take 2 The sweet wine hung in my mouth like a riddle as the song of the robin grazed my ears. Above me, angels sat in clouds, cherubs tugging at their robes as sugary crystals poured down from Heaven onto my waiting legs. ----------- Take 1 The riddle and the robin started out with songs as sweet as wine and burgundy the angels and the cherubs sat in clouds tiny hands sprinkled blessings sugary Yet darkness reared its ugly head in turn to join the dragon spitting at the mouth its body spinning like a rusty worm to fill her head with syrup sticky doubt He was unseen this dragon in the wings the symphony rose like the chasing tide the mermaid muse was just about to sing but then she slowly turned her head and sighed So who was she to act like such a...

 I watched a video on Youtube, so I became a student of the old ways and I realized I would like to spend my days in this way my life may be in tatters it all might be a hand basket to hell but it would not matter  if I could paint like...Raphael I went to the basement of my mind and set up a canvas, once then twice and painted from portraits in a book stealing ideas like a crook they call it copying and so I did, to paint like...Raphael The results at first made me laugh did I think it would be as easy as that?! The portraits to me looked so strange but had a charm I could not name and some trace  of a fool who tried to paint like...Raphael So I kept at it with experiments layers and mediums and turpentine I am sure the fumes affected my mind I watched more videos to crack the code all day in my abode and I see now a glimmer of hope although it's faint my previous paintings I thought were great, but ah, --I've not yet begun to paint I know it's a long journey full of cav...

You see me in the alleys you do not know my name the blackness exudes in me to me it's all the same yet in my heart I have a secret a beast as of yet untamed His mane is made of orange and red his shoulders pale brown and wild white electric light sits upon his crown he basks all day in black and grey and knows not harm nor blame and me I'm sideways on the steps the keeper of the flame My crossword puzzles do confuse the lines are drawn so straight that there is no suitable excuse when angels make mistakes but humans are not saints and there is a swinging gate and softer somewhere in the shadows of a summer lane I hope that he like me is still the keeper of the flame