Green I Believe

Green,, I believe, is more than color
a keener concept at the base of origin
Finality, if not regression,
into the range of blue enters
The cool taste of mountain water

Frank

Frank Lima, where are you.
Even if you haven't died
surely you can not hear me

Frank Lima, then, appears just like that
Hasn't changed a bit in 40 years. Surely, Frank, Lima,
one of us is dead or dreaming.  Witch's brew on Witch's Night.

August 28

In the garden I've worked the day
with praying hands, thoughts flying
in sweep of sky, September upon me
there in rock my Georgia home
my garden in a gash of granite

Peace Like A Cloud Heaven-Sent

How else to live but intensely in love
Seek your treasure, your calling
and give your all to it.
Life breathes emancipation
death will not diminish

Where are You

At 75, I'm in awe and content
excited over the banners
the seasons bring,

Falling leaves, melting brooks,
Sun on the mount, day into night
Creeping shadows of the wood,
Birds, herbs, herds on the hoof
With the impending snow I'm in love

Petunia, My Sister

Invisibility is an enviable skill to which my sister has given a new twist.
She is visible for sure, but for the most part goes unnoticed.
She walks the ghetto eliciting at best shrugs from the locals
and the assortment of  prey and predators on those  mean streets.

No one would  ever think of ask Petunia to turn a trick.
People may think her crazy, crazy like a fox is she.
Don't underestimate the quiet lady, straight as an ironing board,
who would speech you off in a New York minute
were she to catch you looking at her queer.

A decade before the news broke that President Obama was spying on the world,
Petunia had figured, that the then president, Clinton, was monitoring radio transmissions
from Radio Bonaire in order to spy on Petunia who religiously listened
to Oral Roberts broadcasts.

I manage to survive stock market gyrations
thanks to meticulous study and transcendental meditation
Petunia betters me. She thrives in an island full of criminals
by employing in self defense the Jesus strategy
of being as wise as serpents and innocent as doves.

Van Gogh's Ear

I accidentally oozed a tube of bleed upon the canvas
Coincidentally, the Kool Aide in my cup also dripped

Accidents can lead to innovative art
Coincidences challenge forensic science

Blood a washed makes for pink.
Idle thoughts foreshadow ill

Yu Just Wokeup Da Boogeyman

Does a Poem always have to have a body
or his title sufficient?

Easy on The Mayonnaise

Sandwiched between what just occurred
and might have been but isn't
had I not been so horribly gangwiched

Dandwiched befixed who me thinks I am
and the fraud I perpetuate
daily

Flandished, and feeling flightly compressed -
Roast beef on rye,
if you please

The New Social Order

They plan to release the animals in the zoos of Costa Rica,
a commendable and humane thing to do.
Congradulations, Costa Ricans

Nothing should be held captured unneccesarily,
and for that reason, execute murderers, pedophiles and rapists
or resettle them where they can no longer cruelly disrupt law and order

Says One Virus to Another

If you think the posting of a poem
will last more than three minutes in any one's memory,
you are bound to suffer disillusionment.

If you think this hot one night stand
will be remembered sweetly into old age,
you haven't considered:

1,  The risks of venereal disease
2.  The ravages of dementia
3   and that the Age of Romance
     was killed by the invention of the microscope.

With the advent of implantations
was created a new way of looking
at our microbial existence.

Internet Musings

The internet can be likened to a Christmas Tree,
a constellations all lit up with gifts beneath
 in strange wrappings.

A subscriber logs on, a star twinkles
A subscriber logs off
and a light turns off.

This continuous stream of lights turning on and off
in no way compromises the Internet
It  will always grow beyond our expectations.

The Internet has no shape.  It is amoeba shaped.
Its vastness hints of an expanding
and unknown universe.

Like a teddy bear of humongous size,
the Internet has its warm and cuddly side.
Let's say, you're a toad in Brooklyn

You can mask as a Prince,
and tweet romantic to an aging freak in North Korea
pretending he's a 13 year old virgin.

But wait!  North Korea does not have an internet.
Probably neither does Hell
nor Heaven

Lord Blue

I would be a wall for you
between You and a battering ram
But were the wall to be breached,
and I to collapse in dust and mortar,
You would be no less the Almighty.

Treading upon my rubble, You would set
the enemy to flee in panic,
You are my Defender
You are my Restorer
I am merely a wall.