all the joys we have in store
and all the joys we have today
locked inside in a special way
but we have miles to go
before we sleep
on the joy we dream about and weep
halfway home is not enough
for these old bones are full of fluff
and half a glass is not enough
for these young bones who like it rough
its not the drink that stirs the straw
its rather straw that moves the juice
and makes one feel like
diamond jim
or lucy or steve
or that old friend Kent
the name i said long years ago
that if your baby were called so
he'd grow to be a different child
than Arnold
or bill
or elmer hyde
the sound Kent made on the ear
made a different child i always feared
i didn't know kent or any other
but it was one of my thoughts asunder
when youth
and elbow theories in my head abounded
where lots of fragrant thoughts redounded
so here i am stuck in my groove
with smiles
and such nice times to make smooth
whilst (such a word- like old sliced cheeses
feeling round my bended kneeses)
whilst i deliberate and writhe
within my skin still wanting rye
and having white or seven grain
its good my man - don't get me wrong-
why 14 hundred thousand strong
would stand on toes to get a peek of what it was that I
escheat
but why oh why does rye decry
and call me in my slumbers song
when head on pillow
hugging arms
cozy covers
and wafting charm
elude me or rather elude my thoughts or rather
feelings
those inner wants
i want i want i want i want
Henderson, the searcher , who looked and looked
and looked and looked
and finding what? he ran to mama
not his but someone's
to safety
because there were no answers?
or because the answers were uncomfortable
or because what are we anyway
or because he had not been known as Kent
not been called Kent
from infant days
from growing days
from childhood dreams and bedtime stories
and from morning rises and morning glories
he wasn't for calvary
just infantry or worse
quartermaster corp or maybe a nurse
tomorrow is the first day of my next life
Love,
Bob
good morning chicklets
smiles abound
rhymes are down
balls are round
and on the ground
smiles are smiling
all around
hugs are plentiful
tigers are making cheeks aglow so nice it
warms the cockles of my heart
as they say
and Beethoven plays tonight
boys firework watchers
delight
time to run not hide
and slippery words
stay locked inside
don't exude
hey I'm a dude
and i better start paying much more attention to snapple covers
I've been following fortune cookie
advice
but gimme snapple (or a baked apple)
or gimme hot times in the old barn tonight
No Fright!
chocolate ice cream
tasty and cold
makes my heart pitter
patter and pant
pants
oh for the love of laundry and fresh clothes
unchain my heart
and let me wash my home
sadly, mold attacks
the machines have returned to my bedroom
the flood waters are receding too slowly from my walls
one day i shall move back in
and have shiny new paint to boot
and new boots to boot too
until then
like Madeleine at the plaza
the family lumbers on in city hotels amidst the cappuccinos
and morning papers
room service
and extra keys
and 4 tv's - one apiece
but the guests must share...
pitiful i say
pitiful
instead i shall hear the philharmonic in the countryside
and float down the Delaware eating toast
and champagne
or snapple covers
on rye
for now-
bye bye.......
You know the tomorrow they say never comes?
It’s here
how? I know you're wondering
how? how did that tomorrow that never comes arrive
like spring weather that's not here yet either
well, tomorrow sneaked its little shit foot in and then blag blah bloooog blug
its here
this is the tomorrow thing you've been waiting for
did I say dreading
our time has come and a time it is to
sing and dance and
eat jelly donuts by the peck
pick a peck of peppers
one at a time and eat the shit out of it too
wouldn't you
and wouldn't you like to be a pepper too
dah da dada
ooom di da da da da
and wouldn't you like to be a pepper too
now I am wondering
just wondering
how it is
how come it is
that
men don’t always know what side their bread is buttered on
why don’t they know it
why is it such a goddamn mystery
shit
I’m angry as hell
and not much going around about it that’s for damn sure
maybe I’ll have a blend shake
you know
papaya juice with raspberry scoundrel and aren'tja juice mixed in good
with sorrybay in lime fitting
oozed all over the top
like I give a shit what order they are going into the blender in
end with prepositions and you will have propositions you can rely on
that’s a fact
fact of life
fact of nature
back to the real facts before digression
anyone still up?
anyone still reading along?
let’s call this entry
digression
total digression from dealing
digression from reality
hey where is that painting I did right after college?
my face it was or someone’s but really mine - aren’t they all really mine
and then I cut out from a plastic bag or saran wrap
some lips and glued it over the ones I painted on that drawing or watercolor
fake smile
plastic smile
I am wearing it right this minute
smiley here!
howdy doo
- did I have red lipstick on underneath that plastic bag back then ?
cause the gloss goes on giddy smooth these days
and I don’t feel I even need the bag
sarenely smooth sara one could say
he gets an internal chuckle over saran serene
sexy aint it
like a low drifting cigarette
clinging to the edge of the lips
hanging downward
like humphrey bogart
and etta james all in one - ( I don’t know if she smokes
I know her name is power-
leave it open - its ok-
don’t have to close every door every time
or every parentheses every rhyme -
see here I am writing in what I shall now delineate as the "dumb folks" style
style where the subtleties of my mind must be explained -
can’t lay there subtle because help I need someone to see what the hell I’m talking about
because I don’t always say it out loud
and I sure as shit don’t always say it out loud to me myself and I
if you know what the hell I mean
by Irene-
run
that’s what I mean
run run run run run
make it stop
because it can’t can it run and then its done
and that was life
the journey itself not the destination
like the beautiful death poem goes
life is a journey and death a destination
and everything in between
a journey of life itself
well that’s sort of calming - perhaps by repetition itself - itself
never finish
never finish quite
ever.
explanation point. period!
new month old themes
i should have bought this piece of art at the sale last night
my kids would have liked it i'm sure
why hello there
and welcome to my resurrection blog
filled with stars and stripes galore pinafore
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