I'll tell you
I've lived with some gorgeous women
and I was so bewitched bt those
beautiful creatures that
my eyebrows twitched.
But I'd rather drive to New York backwards
than to live with any of them
The next classic studpidity
will be the history
of those fellows
who inherit my female
in their case
as in mine
they will find
is caused by not
being often enough
Walk pass a side walk,
you see a skunk under the bush,
The smell in your imagination instantly shuts your mind,
Sitting in a white light lit room,
Words turn strange,
The eyes of the skunk haunt,
Blocking out fresh air,
and peaceful mood there,
Hours passed by,
Emotional illusion turns dead,
Hands shiver, why?
Life in the unusual setting goes muffle-red.
Grandmothers were strong
they followed plows and bent to toil.
They moved through fields sowing seed.
They touched earth and grain grew.
They were full of sturdiness and singing
My grandmothers were strong.
Grandmothers are full of memories,
Smelling of soap and onions and wet clay,
With veins rolling roughly over quick hands,
they have many clean words to say
my grandmothers were strong,
why am I not as they?
At the coldest place on earth,
A chick in in the hatching,
with penguin parents watching...
None knows how a chick
finds its way to chip out the egg shell,
Perhaps mom and dad and their love
is the energy for the breakthrough,
days, weeks, and months pass,
Regardless how serious
North pole wind blows,
Due time knocks the door,
a chick's bill pops out,
turns into swallowing colors...
We cannot afford
doubts upon the chick race,
Praise the egg energy.
In this dark-grained news photograph, whose glare
is rigidly composed as Caravaggio's,
The corpse glows candle-white on its cold altar.
Its stone Bolivian Indian butcher's slab-
stare till its waxen flesh begins to harden
to marble, to reined, white Andean iron;
from your own fear, carbon, its pallor grows.
It stumbled from your doubt, and for your pardon
burnt in brown trash, far from the
poetry seeking comfort,
I write poetry fulfilling my soul,
I write poetry for healthy goals.
I have lots of fun.
I write poetry to share joy,
I write poetry to inspire my boy.
I'm encouraged by your comments,
I'm tickled by your humor and talents.
I write poetry finding potential wit,
I write poetry discovering my strength,
I write poetry not to compete with you,
but to advance my personal hobby at my beloved space.
I write to kill time,
i write to mine my love for my family,
I write to show my independence,
I don't care what you do or think basically,
Unless you come to my property...
Military, middle east,
and Willard Mitt Romney,
One on One,good Job.
CBS, TV #5,
Broadcasting debate, at 9,
Eyes on holes, polls.
First ladies, green grey,
Family, friends, watch and pray,
Good luck, O. M. ducks.
Bob schieffer, Lynn Univ.,
Boca Raton, Florida,
Home security, tough views.
The race is so close,
It's hard to choose via debates,
Moderate and vote.
You try to make sense out of a day;
out of days, though
I feel it's worth more to want to know you
and your ways, as you are now, as we all are now,
We've been through a lot, we've grown
around each other,
we've grown around ourselves, too.
Sometimes a bloom, grown better,
when surrounded by other growing blooms!
We all are, too!
Adjusting the things we talked
are coming about with our lord!
We are going our own way toward him each day,
For daily, differences will easily enfold many roads,
Many ought not to unfold, Many ought to be told.
You ask me to come to your house;
You are my house, you're already at my house.
drifting from the earth,
higher than my arms reach,
you have shouted
Higher than my arms reach,
You force us with huge mess.
No petals ever opened
so staunch a red bud,
no flower ever taken silver
from such random color;
O, pale blossom,
heavy on the branch
mixing summer and juicy peaches
with some purple cats.
grope in the shadow to see dawn,
To know what's happening ahead,
We struggle, fall, and explore, old and young,
To find out what can be altered instead.
Sad because evil force misleads,
Integrity virtue, and honesty vanishes,
Hurt since many a folk still cheats,
and the efforts to correct wrongs are considered as trashes.
Darkness and gloom sweep our souls,
Giving us steaming feel as if we're in showers,
But if we calm down, and rethink our goals,
We can rise in the strength of God, his powers.