Current poems in progress...

The shadow raced around the corner
The shadow raced around the corner
again and again and again it raced
making me dizzy until black covered my face
The pain of feeling so alone
The hardest truth in turning to stone.
a stream of grieve will soften the edges

The Joke in Loneliness

The joke for you procrastinating jokers is...
The longer you wait for someone decent to come along
The smaller chance there is of getting fabulousness
Yes indeed...I have waited too long
And now must suffer the fact that the only things left
Are the nudie flyers blowing around in the dirty street,
And the drunks passed out in the gutter.
Yes, I have indeed come to be satisfied in my loneliness.
My lust and hunger have mostly fallen away
And I feel free at last..I'm so happy
I don't have to suffer like I used to.
Don't worry my lonel friends...
Salvation comes to everyone
Alone or not....
-------
whistling in the dark?
-------
I don't need to whistle in the dark anymore. Being alone at night doesn't bother me...spending the night with something under my standards does...and I'm not compromising anymore.
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a joke in loneliness is like a a teardrop in smile. it is like being lonely in a joke. things cancel out to zero. so if you are positive in negative world that cancels out. this is just theory about the poem or the poet
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When did
Someone became something
Below my standards?
Perhaps
The problem
All along
Was just that
Somehow someone
could become
something in my thoughts ~~litetouch
Commentary trigger~~sorry couldn't help myself

come play...
or stay away...
or change the tune

;)

The first day was closer to the 4th
His saunter was bent and northeast by north
Up duck neath the bushes he went
To clear out any injuns circling his tent
Firecracker shooting and bottle rocket messages sent
To ward off the marauders with their teepee scent
The ruckus caused the neighbors to spy
And burly men came to look down from the sky
Curled up in his hole, he cowered to their stares and pokes
He wished that he had stayed home back with his old folks
One of the big men shouted a line or six
And our hero barricaded himself with some sticks
The burly men lit their pipes with mountain coal fires
Latching on to the lad in his stick pit with a hot pair of pliers
"There there, kind gent, we only come for a smoke"
Said they, "and some hot tindered coal fires to stoke"
The young man then lifted his soul from the stick gated pit
And dressed himself in his shiny top hat shined with spit
With rough bended fingers wrapped in old-fashioned tweed
The burly men from their satchels pulled the curly swamp weed
It smelled strong and they all laughed ferverishly as they worked it
The laughter grew louder as the top-hatted feller asked for their weed permit
The chuckles now ceased and frowns came in their wake
And the men grew angered that they needed a permit to bake
The largest of the burly men pulled out his six-shooter filled with fire
Pointing it at the top hot man and then using it to fire up his pipe to get higher
Clearly ignored, our man slipped quietly back into his hole
And to draw up some plans, some parchment from a cupboard he stole
His first plan he wrote was to somehow wrangle the six shooter and the weed
He then noted that it must be done swiftly and with a great deal of speed
He'd need to summon an injun to cause a mighty distraction
And devise a long distance tool with telescoping slide action
Meanwhile, the burly men were circled and in a deep, drooling slumber
This provided him the opportunity to calculate their weight and age number
With protractor and compass and mathematics machine
He went to work building the tool that would the gun and weed glean
Tools and mind grinding away to fulfill the day's destiny and his deed doing
Almost finished he shimmered his vision at the contraption and was reviewing
He gave it a final proud shine with the hair on his chin
And called it good and done as he wrapped the handle in finest goose skin
The summoned injun created a mighty flash-bang and everyone at the bum camp was blinded
Up and out our top-hat friend jumped with the devised tool and his bleeding mind minded
With a lickety split he worked the tool and snatched the six shooter and weed
He also garnished the satchel in his moment of high minded greed
Off into the dark, green forest he ran with a mind full of excited thoughts and plans
The first thing to do was gather more pot and some pans
And encircle his territory with fire worked booby traps and pit falls
All those things done he retreated into the foresty tree walls
With all his new goodies scattered about in his new camp all to himself
And with the most valuable goodies placed up high on the tip top shelf
He crafted a fire and orated a poem called "Ode to the 4th"
And lit up his high mind as high up as is north

Elevated train racing round the block
Fat man inside staring at the wall clock
Stinking of an old mattress and gin
His motionless face looks made of tin
The train halts to a stop and he's tossed
Against the rails and looks like he's lost
A lady passes by and takes his wallet
He doesn't see her but he sees his cutlet
Which she doesn't see but that's fine by her
As she slips his wallet into her coat of fur
She dreams of her man-date she can buy
It was planned in advance for the 1st of July
And off like a rocket she leaves for home
To primp and prepare with algae and comb
A pack of city stray dogs runs about her feet
She wishes to distract them with a cutlet of meat
If only she had seen there tucked under arm
Of the fat man the cutlet to free her of harm
The dogs nip at her supple, unprotected thighs
She kicks at the strays and yells her goodbyes
Meanwhile, the fat man rises to dust his pants
Brushing off the rat droppings and army of ants
To his surprise he notices his empty wallet pocket
He becomes so enraged his eye falls out of socket
But he nips at his supple cutlet and is calm
And thinks of warm fires and Santa and mom
With a spring in his step he wags his tail for home
Blinding everyone he passes with his shiny dome
As he enters his house there comes a "hi honey"
And from his fur coated wife he takes back his money

---- A Letter to Someone ----
Dear Someone, is somebody there?
Do you have an idea, an inkling, a care?
I sit here in my everlasting despair
Without the courtesy of even fresh air
But the thought of you brings a grin
Like a long day of travel and a motor inn
Shimmering forth and from within
Kinda like enjoying a drink of cooled gin
Are you a he, a she, or a troll?
If there were others, I'd take a poll
Are you so fat that down a hill you roll ?
Do you eat ice cream buckets by the whole ?
I guess that's no matter when you're not here
Though I'd like to know if you are sincere
That day you got me so drunk with a beer
And whispered wonderful thoughts in my ear
Your name is a blur... is it... Cantaloupe?
Perhaps it'll come in next month's horoscope
Missing you so much makes it hard to cope
Some days I want to hang myself with a rope
Your liberal decrees and voluminous stare
Your raspberry mouth and muddled hair
The overall appearance of you and the flair
Is ever so much more exciting than the county fair
This letter is all I have to express my woe
Drawing your image in the dust with my toe
The sun shines upon it making your hair glow
Please know that I love you always -- The Joe

um... ann is married dude ;) timing is everyting, eh?
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sentimental joe, never learns to control emotions. it could be me, but i'm sure its not your talking out there. thanks for noticing though. just control your feelings!!! my best advice

is amber still arround, or ped ant or symon?
good friends still a missing
got myself kicked or bullied somewhere
one is a fierce critique, one is an adviser, one is really a friend
missed them all
a critique, one can never be always right
an adviser, of course, some experience helps
a friend, it is godd to know you are not all alone...

Well, I come around once in awhile you know...I like empty rooms that echo.