The Social Experience......Helping the Unsigned Artist Get Heard!!!
Thanks for reading and listening to my work.
To regress
with them into
that splendid
world of innocence,
and just be childlike
for a day.
Perhaps a
national holiday
for all the
stressed adults
is in order,
a chance to
just have fun.
Even men at war
would lay down
their guns and
simply point fingers
and go,
"Bang...Bang...
your dead, "
as their enemies
fall laughing
to the grass or sands.
Perhaps Republi-cans
who can't......
could for one
day at least,
cease their
adult tantrums
over speeches
by current leaders
that are utterly harmless.
To just stop
being silly fools
chasing boogeymen,
and also lose their fears
over health care plans
that sicken no one!
Let them all
simply play
a healthy game
of Monopoly
where their
treasured riches
are non-negotiable
paper money,
and their vast
"real" estate is "fake."
We all need to
learn to play again
and laugh
for just a day
without regard
to skin color,
religion, creed
or politics,
letting the world become
a giant carousel
spinning round,
till we are dizzy
with delight
at the beauty
it holds
and we all fall
in the grass,
giggling at what
we've missed
in our angst and
our haste to
have things
only our way.
Sorry for
the sermon,
The child in me cries
out for such a day.
I grow weary of
the false scare tatics
of death panels,
financial ruin,
socialism unleashed
and children
constantly
denied
the wise words
of leaders,
who cannot dance
with their dreams.
Simply because
the disenfranchised,
who have lost
their grip on power,
keep pulling
the oval rug out
from under their
nemesis's feet.
Peace to you
and yours,
regardless
of your stance
in this world of
turmoil and tears.
Apathy and rage
have inspired
this poem in me,
which I will post,
not as a comment
but as a poetic wish
for such a wonder to
someday occur.
Let's all go
back soon
to sit again with
and as children
to simply share
the beauty of
their precious
innocence.
A Date Worth Remembering
Perhaps a horse drawn carriage,
a white steed with an ivory mane
His big brown eyes reflecting thanks
as we hand feed him carrots.
A carriage with a fringed top
and a plush oversized bench,
stocked with a large cooler
of white and red wines,
merlot, chardonnay, peach
cherry, and champagne.
Plus cheeses of provolone,
garlic, cheddar, mozerella,
gouda, pepperoni speckled
and bleu next to some
straw hats and a guitar.
Pulling up to your door
with that clippety-clop,
sound of yesterday
when romance was cherished,
and sweeping you
away from the doldrums
of modern life,
like a fair maiden of old.
Some Fabian style driver
to cart us along,
lest I fail to meet
your full expectations,
then at least you could fantasize,
but most likely you would be lost
in our sweet conversing between
sharing sips of wine and hand feeding
each other succulent cheeses.
Then off to a private beach,
secluded and pristine with
two striped cabanas for changing
into less clothing on
a warm summer day.
We would relax in the tropical sun,
with only the sound of the ocean
intermingled with our sighs,
in two lounge chairs side by side
holding hands and watching time go by.
Soon enough the urge would strike us
to race into the restless surf,
then I would grace your flesh
with a warm massage of sun oils
to protect your lovely complexion,
in a gentlemanly fashion,
and bid you to do my back,
before our refreshing dip.
Then off we would dash
splashing and giggling
like children in the salty froth,
wet bodies embracing
just long enough for a sampling
of how it would feel,
if fate chose to grant us romance.
After we had frolicked to exhaustion,
we would climb together on a raft for two,
and float on our backs side by side,
gazing up at the blue of the sky,
when we were not gazing
into each others eyes.
Later we would paddle back shore,
a team effort, to get us back to
the picnic basket on ice that awaited us.
There we would share King crab salads
abundant with the oceans bounty
and finger sandwiches of thin sliced
prime rib or turkey breast
with lettuce and tomato,
as well as two generous
covered dishes of chilled
crème brulee for our dessert.
sharing smiles between ravenous bites.
Then off for a long stroll down the beach,
hand in hand, collecting sea glass,
just enough to form a heart of
multi-colored gems that we would glue
onto a white square of cardboard,
a souvenir of our summer date.
As dusk set in and sunset dappled
our paradise with oranges and golds,
I would set a driftwood fire ablaze,
and we would enjoy its heat,
roasting marshmallows, making smores,
and watching the day dissolve before us.
By firelight I would lift my guitar,
and compose love songs for you,
encompassing our day together,
with hopes for other days to come.
Then back to the carriage which
would arrive at 11:00 p.m.
for a starlit ride home,
with the fringe top removed,
so that we could enjoy
our Night ride together.
Soft murmured conversation,
accompanied by the gentle
jounce of wagon wheels,
and steaming mugs of cappucino,
till we reached your front door,
where we would tentatively
blend eager lips into
a short farewell kiss,
that would joyously become
a long timeless blending
of two lonely souls.
Pulling away only
with great regret,
gazing deep into
each others eyes
with somewhat sated moods
as I slip you another ticket
to your next date in the
paradise of each others arms,
an evening of theater and dancing
on the following weekend.
Then you'd promise your attendance,
giving me one more delicious peck
on my lips and vanishing to
many happy dreams
beyond your door.
XXX Equals Emptiness Shared-XXX
Her kisses are pure poison.
like one too many Oxycontin
or some blow-fish containing
too much nerve paralysis,
but oh, how I love the taste
of her succulent lips on mine.
I get higher than
the half a million
strong at Woodstock,
and some paralysis does occur,
a tight stiffening in at least
one of my joints.
But she has a well known habit
of treating her lovers as Kleenex,
disposable relief for a temporary
blowing off of the steam of lust.
And I know that as soon as I
take the plunge into the depths
of her tunneled silky bliss
I will be added to her list
of conquests no longer worthy.
Yet here I am again,
falling prey to my addiction,
committing self esteem suicide
in such an oh, so delightful way.
"Please Kill me before I stop again."
SomeThoughts On
Cats And Kittens
When I think of cats,
I sometimes visualize,
L o n g , black
sleek machines,
Like rental limousines,
purring softly
in dark alleyways,
Prowling boldly
down bright avenues,
Seeking out all
the mousy types,
Who are looking to
fulfill ego trips.
But if I
ponder kittens,
I’ll often picture,
The soft fuzz
of a dandelion
that has just
gone to seed,
Tumbling in
a velvet ball,
Across the
jagged grass,
in pursuit of
butterflies or bees.
When I
envision lust,
Which is quite often
I think of cats
rubbing themselves
between any
available legs
begging to
be stroked,
and then purring
at the pleasure
strutting and preening,
then lapping eagerly
over the taste
of tuna fish,
all the while
pretending
that it’s caviar.
But when I am
comprehending love,
I see a tiny,
fluffy kitten,
I feel a warm
fuzzy heat.
like a ball of fur,
in the bed
of my lap,
I taste sweet,
milky kisses
and a perfume
of downy musk,
My breath quickens
as I nuzzle
up against
my warm memories,
and dream of
joys to come.
^ ^
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