i see i'm going to have to go back and edit some, or remove them, and type them...yuck! one of the many reasons i could never write a book....not a fan of typing! ah well...i'll get it done soon i hope.

ugh! lee...

i hate how it looks, copying and pasting these to the blog...i just have no desire to type much on this mini...besides, i can never resist the urge to do a running edit as i go...often changing the entire "poem"...ya' think everyone that writes "poetry" does that? anyway, here's some new, and some old.

erosion?

Erosion... When the lust wears off, what have you done? Spin your wheels, and dig in, or, turn tail and run? And when love ran out, where did you go? Did you work it out kid? or was it all for show? Even rocks, turn to dust, in the wind and rain... You and i, we've withstood our fair share of pain. Given the chance....to do over again? I'd muck it up, m'dear...'most exactly the same.

angels, indeed!

Angels Indeed!... Flyin' around a corner, playin' a wicked game of chance... Comes a hero, a devil, a man in leather pants. He's driftin' the whip...(as they say in the parlance) Tempting death, for certain, with his suggestive little dance. A pot-hole, a pebble, a teeny patch of sand.. Could send him off, careening, No tellin' where he'd land. On the tangent now, as the car comes correct.. Winks, at the dash mount camera... Wouldn't you just expect? Danger, adrenaline, anger, and riteous brother speed. Converge, in an instant... Filling a gearhead's need. Should he live tonight, to race another day? Or, in living, give it up...and get on his knees and pray? Ne'er shall we know...at least, for a week or so. 'Til race days rolls 'round again. And he feels the urge to GO! Heaven blessed us with horsepower... And these angels... They're all, hell-bound....

uncle jonny's "garden"

Uncle Jonny's garden... Jonny, Uncle Jonny, won't you tell me please.. However on earth, does your garden grow? "With oil...and gas, and a dollop of grease... you ask me child, as though you don't know." Have you, Uncle Jonny, a row of peas? a carrot or two? Nah, kid, sure don't...won't grow, for the weeds. Parsley? nor parsnips? a rutebega, or two? Tellin' ya' kid, the answer's no..but there's a mercury marquis.. Rusting, in the pasture, behind a couple of fords. Take a left, at the comet, between the cottonwood trees... And look for a trailer, piled high with old boards. There, she'll be a wiltin', 'neath the hot august sun. With a spider-web windshield, from some kid with a rock.. But if you want her to drive, i'm quite sure that she'll run. G'on kid, here's the key...open up that lock... Get an idea how you'll feel... Cruisin' down the block. Ain't no veggies, a'growin' here kid, never will, i fear.. Even the cars, don't "green up"...they just sit..and rust...and rot.

a vision (in black and white)

Vision...(in black and white) Manicured nails, drag plaster walls... Singing, their song. As, slowly, she sweeps her way to me.... A ghost, in my hall. Anticipation.....builds, Ankle strapped heels, Linked to hips that sway. Exaggeration, inspiration, excitation... Walk slowly my way. In a polka-dot dress, That clings to every curve. Honestly, I'd be foerever content, Just to observe.... I'm incited, to tie "love me" knots... 'Round every small, alabaster appointment, Near the end of said limbs. All, so shapely, fine, and thin... My mind's eye rewinds it Time, and again..

on the horrors of aging

On the horrors of aging.... I turned a corner, in my life today... Acceptance, or capitulation, some would say.. Admittance, that that which has been with me From the day of my birth, will no longer, grow wild and free.. Tiny, and soft, i started life...much as my parasitic "guests" Now, decades down the line, we've become coarse, thick, and unsightly, though we do our best.. I know, my hatred is one-sided...as i know these evil minions also do good.. Protecting me constantly, from those sicknesses that would.. Slip past a nostril...and make a home, in my lung. Ah, but they also catch boogers..like a bat, from a cave hung... And, were i to shave, passers-by would sound off...ACHTUNG! Saluting the "toothbrush" mustache they would grow o'er my tongue... Norelco..my savior, from nasal hair notariety... Answer my prayer, make me suitable viewing for society. Though i know, you'll cause the shedding of tears... At least i still don't have to use you in my ears!