The mind is numb and the throat is sore from a slog of singing and roaring in speech.
With the onslaught of people and rooms smelling of feackle or asparagus scented pee.
Alone on the bed half glad half dead from the energy given to all.
With Vampires and fascist whip their tongue on you lashes
not letting you speak your mind as clear as you wish
You meander through thought and trail to talk the drivel of all this great nation
Now the muscles are sore and weary and the bed is so inviting
But the worn out knees and pinching back give little respite in the lying
Eyelids flop and waver, dreams flash and go
as your heat melts the matteress and irons the sheets below.
Wake before it's too early and call me in the morn
for tomorrow we head south once more to follow the rivers run
and up and down this highway of life we peddle out bikes and wares
Singing of life gone before us and wondering if somebody cares
Mise le meas Sept 9th at 1am reaching deep for inspiration as I lie in my La Quinta bed in Little Rock, AR, worn out from 900 miles in the last few day with two big spins to come before I get home to my own bed which I grave as overdue comfort. Must come back and revisit the stanzas here.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
First day out with the Red Bag
My feet burn from all the walking in the waking hours,
as a fan blows it's soothing vornado in my ear
I lie back on a pull out bed from what seemed a harmless couch
in a New York flat on the Sunnyside of the Queens borough
In the early part of July
Tomorrow hold the keys to yesterday
and both are tormenting me in stereo
as my back is starting up again
with all the pulling and dragging
of a jet setting red bag
and two grey Samson like companions.
What seems to be the delight in laptopping
so late in the evening stretch
That keeps me from getting that beauty sleep
which is what for my muscles ache?
To see that life ain't so bad?
To keep up with what the Jones are at
On facebooks twittering stream of consciousness?
Tomorrow will tell all about today adventures
and reap the stories of the day before
as an new audience of ear lay before me
and the act begins once more!
Mise le Meas
12.18am July 6th 2011 in Flat 2F on 49th St. in Sunnyside with a nice breeze coming from the Vornado fan Donie, the man of the house, set up for me. The bed is grand and I won't be long falling of only to put away the laptop that keeps me up into the night that was already too long!
The red bag is the new case for my drum which is looking to be a big feature in the future and the great story of it's capture will last a far while as everyone needs to hear it, in small groups of course. The two grey companions are the Samsonite bags full of my stuff which were heavy enough dragging on de wheels but hard going when it came to the stairs. The rhyming ing here is awful, but I may come back and redo. rhyming
as a fan blows it's soothing vornado in my ear
I lie back on a pull out bed from what seemed a harmless couch
in a New York flat on the Sunnyside of the Queens borough
In the early part of July
Tomorrow hold the keys to yesterday
and both are tormenting me in stereo
as my back is starting up again
with all the pulling and dragging
of a jet setting red bag
and two grey Samson like companions.
What seems to be the delight in laptopping
so late in the evening stretch
That keeps me from getting that beauty sleep
which is what for my muscles ache?
To see that life ain't so bad?
To keep up with what the Jones are at
On facebooks twittering stream of consciousness?
Tomorrow will tell all about today adventures
and reap the stories of the day before
as an new audience of ear lay before me
and the act begins once more!
Mise le Meas
12.18am July 6th 2011 in Flat 2F on 49th St. in Sunnyside with a nice breeze coming from the Vornado fan Donie, the man of the house, set up for me. The bed is grand and I won't be long falling of only to put away the laptop that keeps me up into the night that was already too long!
The red bag is the new case for my drum which is looking to be a big feature in the future and the great story of it's capture will last a far while as everyone needs to hear it, in small groups of course. The two grey companions are the Samsonite bags full of my stuff which were heavy enough dragging on de wheels but hard going when it came to the stairs. The rhyming ing here is awful, but I may come back and redo. rhyming
Friday, June 17, 2011
Can't seem to...
What stays my hand that I can not let my mind recall the thoughts so deep inside?
What holds my tongue as I try to write them clearly down in black and wide?
Who knows what way the truth should flow from me into your own eyes?
Who says it will turn out as wretched as the view so dark within me lies?
But yet here I am in stagnant state and rigamortis grows ov'r my fingers
No grieving squirm can move me from such apathy and so neglect lingers
And dries the ink before it sets itself upon the page so crisp and willing
Another day goes by and no explanation of the long awaited spilling.
If I had but a chance I would speak of the Common Yellowthroat outside my door,
Constantly watching while picking at the feeder and leaving a mess upon the floor.
And tell of the geese flying overhead as they honk directions from Billy to Pat.
And loud annoying dogs who whimper and the smell from a long dead decaying rat.
If I had a piano over my bed I could save the poor boy from such monstrosity.
So give me strength to scribble the vague shadows of my dreams with curiosity
Then I will show you what has been held at the damn of my mind
To give sound to the deaf and sight to the blind.
Mise le Meas, June 17th very late at night sitting at home after a massive absence from showing any effort to write poetry. This morning at home in my insomnia a Common Yellowthroat I spotted at the new bird feeder which gave fierce light to my heart. This week news told of Freddy Mercury having a piano over his bed and so he wrote Bohemian Rhapsody after a insightful dream...
What holds my tongue as I try to write them clearly down in black and wide?
Who knows what way the truth should flow from me into your own eyes?
Who says it will turn out as wretched as the view so dark within me lies?
But yet here I am in stagnant state and rigamortis grows ov'r my fingers
No grieving squirm can move me from such apathy and so neglect lingers
And dries the ink before it sets itself upon the page so crisp and willing
Another day goes by and no explanation of the long awaited spilling.
If I had but a chance I would speak of the Common Yellowthroat outside my door,
Constantly watching while picking at the feeder and leaving a mess upon the floor.
And tell of the geese flying overhead as they honk directions from Billy to Pat.
And loud annoying dogs who whimper and the smell from a long dead decaying rat.
If I had a piano over my bed I could save the poor boy from such monstrosity.
So give me strength to scribble the vague shadows of my dreams with curiosity
Then I will show you what has been held at the damn of my mind
To give sound to the deaf and sight to the blind.
Mise le Meas, June 17th very late at night sitting at home after a massive absence from showing any effort to write poetry. This morning at home in my insomnia a Common Yellowthroat I spotted at the new bird feeder which gave fierce light to my heart. This week news told of Freddy Mercury having a piano over his bed and so he wrote Bohemian Rhapsody after a insightful dream...
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Flyin' it!
My eyes have grown too tired to read anymore my book which is quickly growing less engaging.
As the babies continue to scream and roar from fear and ear effected by the altitudes a varying.
The massive lump of a man 'longside me reeks of a day and half's travel by camel all the way from Jordan.
And my phone now, the only relief left to me, is fading faster than myself for it's charger ne'er got in.
If I only had my chewing gum left in my laden bag lofted thick and high in the turmoil of being Paddy Last.
I'd wind the wind out of my popping ears and sooth the pressure of dissent in the compact cabin dropping fast.
Nurse Ratched is on the ward and would love to throw off the children and their mammies too.
Her cold gray eyes that hear the pain of youth and soaks in the high pitch as if it was mountain dew.
Is this the feeling the cattle have as they travel o'er the road to the Bandon Mart shoved tightly in a trailer cold.
With the urge of release while propped next to a brother and taste the odors of the others and fart and burp so bold.
Ah, but to be a bullock now with none of the reasons to wait till your journey be at end.
I'd let go the pain and flush out the strain as free and feckless as a bird before the wind.
Mise le Meas, March 7th 2011 on a smelly, noisy, packed AA flight from O'Hare to Fort Worth.
As the babies continue to scream and roar from fear and ear effected by the altitudes a varying.
The massive lump of a man 'longside me reeks of a day and half's travel by camel all the way from Jordan.
And my phone now, the only relief left to me, is fading faster than myself for it's charger ne'er got in.
If I only had my chewing gum left in my laden bag lofted thick and high in the turmoil of being Paddy Last.
I'd wind the wind out of my popping ears and sooth the pressure of dissent in the compact cabin dropping fast.
Nurse Ratched is on the ward and would love to throw off the children and their mammies too.
Her cold gray eyes that hear the pain of youth and soaks in the high pitch as if it was mountain dew.
Is this the feeling the cattle have as they travel o'er the road to the Bandon Mart shoved tightly in a trailer cold.
With the urge of release while propped next to a brother and taste the odors of the others and fart and burp so bold.
Ah, but to be a bullock now with none of the reasons to wait till your journey be at end.
I'd let go the pain and flush out the strain as free and feckless as a bird before the wind.
Mise le Meas, March 7th 2011 on a smelly, noisy, packed AA flight from O'Hare to Fort Worth.
Friday, February 18, 2011
A Larval Rising
Majestic was the view that once glazed my eyes and set my mind a thinking
How sweet was the hue of the morning sun laying over the land as the warm rays I a drinking
Glissening was the snow cool upon the ground with thoughts of melting away
As I aproached the centre of the sky on my long journey today.
When I return with bags of plenty and wieryness upon my back,
Will the white still rule the terriory as gentry keep the plough rains slack?
I pray for rain and soft winds and long for the migrant goose calling
And dream of warm breezes with thunder bolts and ivy leaves crawling.
Mise le Meas, Feb 18th on a 6.58am delayed flight to Chicago
How sweet was the hue of the morning sun laying over the land as the warm rays I a drinking
Glissening was the snow cool upon the ground with thoughts of melting away
As I aproached the centre of the sky on my long journey today.
When I return with bags of plenty and wieryness upon my back,
Will the white still rule the terriory as gentry keep the plough rains slack?
I pray for rain and soft winds and long for the migrant goose calling
And dream of warm breezes with thunder bolts and ivy leaves crawling.
Mise le Meas, Feb 18th on a 6.58am delayed flight to Chicago
Monday, February 14, 2011
Let me do
I want to dance like the crabs on Christmas Island
And swim like the fish in the Fjords of Finland.
oh, bring me to that place of wonder and delight
with the freedom of jumping wild at night.
I want to fly like the Geese going south
Knowing what winter is all about
And sing like the swallows in Autumn
as migration swings like a pendulum.
Bring me back to the days of childhood,
to nights alone where I once stood,
on the imagination of Independence
in a world without the sad pretense.
Let me be as free as the red Crabs at years end
Leaping and letting loose the notion that life can lend
A helping hand to others even as you pass
And sit and watch sand within the glass.
Then I will rest and know what I have said
Was not but noise from inside my head,
But my yes meant yes and my no meant no
As true and as white as the falling snow.
Feb 14th after seeing it last night as I fell asleep.
And swim like the fish in the Fjords of Finland.
oh, bring me to that place of wonder and delight
with the freedom of jumping wild at night.
I want to fly like the Geese going south
Knowing what winter is all about
And sing like the swallows in Autumn
as migration swings like a pendulum.
Bring me back to the days of childhood,
to nights alone where I once stood,
on the imagination of Independence
in a world without the sad pretense.
Let me be as free as the red Crabs at years end
Leaping and letting loose the notion that life can lend
A helping hand to others even as you pass
And sit and watch sand within the glass.
Then I will rest and know what I have said
Was not but noise from inside my head,
But my yes meant yes and my no meant no
As true and as white as the falling snow.
Feb 14th after seeing it last night as I fell asleep.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Come on will'a?
Pressure is on you have to get it done,
No one else can do it, you are the only one.
Make yourself go, push yourself further,
Look down deep and think of sunny weather.
No time left to just sit and dilly dally,
Sand are dropping and they are waiting in the ally.
Were am I going what do I need?
If I push any harder my eyes will start to bleed.
The continuous noise is through in my ears.
Has my heart beat to another drum these last few years!
Why, where, when has the time of pleasure gone?
Bring on the sunshine and wisdom of a new dawn.
Mise le Meas Jan 28th 2011 under pressure.
No one else can do it, you are the only one.
Make yourself go, push yourself further,
Look down deep and think of sunny weather.
No time left to just sit and dilly dally,
Sand are dropping and they are waiting in the ally.
Were am I going what do I need?
If I push any harder my eyes will start to bleed.
The continuous noise is through in my ears.
Has my heart beat to another drum these last few years!
Why, where, when has the time of pleasure gone?
Bring on the sunshine and wisdom of a new dawn.
Mise le Meas Jan 28th 2011 under pressure.
Sleeping Thoughts
My mind can't rest with thoughts of nothingness
My eyes can't stay shut so look in the darkness
only my ears hold in the deep sounds of my heart.
Let me sleep for one night rest and the morn once more.
What has held me this late again
that I will miss the sun rise?
Who has caused my unrest,
un wanted and unending?
where will tomorrow's comfort come from
when my bones are aching sore
underneath my tightening skin?
No coffee nor tea nor fire.
Ease my mind and soul with prayers
and thoughts of man's goodwill
Bring my heart to resting beat
and sooth me with a melody sweet
So much at hand to do
and little want to handle it.
Tomorrow will come and go
but this night may go on forever
Mise le Meas Jan 27th 2011 unable to sleep
My eyes can't stay shut so look in the darkness
only my ears hold in the deep sounds of my heart.
Let me sleep for one night rest and the morn once more.
What has held me this late again
that I will miss the sun rise?
Who has caused my unrest,
un wanted and unending?
where will tomorrow's comfort come from
when my bones are aching sore
underneath my tightening skin?
No coffee nor tea nor fire.
Ease my mind and soul with prayers
and thoughts of man's goodwill
Bring my heart to resting beat
and sooth me with a melody sweet
So much at hand to do
and little want to handle it.
Tomorrow will come and go
but this night may go on forever
Mise le Meas Jan 27th 2011 unable to sleep
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Uptown, Downtown, Crosstown, Midtown
Uptown, Downtown, Crosstown, Midtown?
Where would you like to go son?
I don't Know! I don't know!
I'm lost? You're Lost? We're lost!
Have you got a map? No! No! No!
Cabby take me there!
Where?
I don't know?!
Uptown, Downtown, Crosstown, Midtown?
Cabby on the way, Cabby on the way!
The lads have left. Oh, no! oh, no!
Where would you like to go kid?
Uptown, Downtown, Crosstown, Midtown?
Turn right, turn left, beep, beep, beep!
Cabbys in New York, boy!?
Uptown, Downtown, Big City, Small City
I'm just from the Village!!
Oh, cabbys all around.
Wrong colour yellow,
He's got to be from Queens.
Wrong style of pants,
He's been walking since Chelsea.
Uptown, Downtown, Crosstown, Midtown
You're an awful Clown!
Where are you going tonight?
Don't know. Don't know.
Mis le Meas Jan 26th 2011 listening back to ramblings recorded by myself while in a NYC cab Oct 2009.
Where would you like to go son?
I don't Know! I don't know!
I'm lost? You're Lost? We're lost!
Have you got a map? No! No! No!
Cabby take me there!
Where?
I don't know?!
Uptown, Downtown, Crosstown, Midtown?
Cabby on the way, Cabby on the way!
The lads have left. Oh, no! oh, no!
Where would you like to go kid?
Uptown, Downtown, Crosstown, Midtown?
Turn right, turn left, beep, beep, beep!
Cabbys in New York, boy!?
Uptown, Downtown, Big City, Small City
I'm just from the Village!!
Oh, cabbys all around.
Wrong colour yellow,
He's got to be from Queens.
Wrong style of pants,
He's been walking since Chelsea.
Uptown, Downtown, Crosstown, Midtown
You're an awful Clown!
Where are you going tonight?
Don't know. Don't know.
Mis le Meas Jan 26th 2011 listening back to ramblings recorded by myself while in a NYC cab Oct 2009.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
Quietness
Can there be a time of no sound?
Do the deaf still hear a humming?
A place so serene it's profound.
But the beat of one's heart still a drumming.
Can one be in a vacuum of sound?
Is that what Collins would have said,
If Buzz didn't talk first time round?
Is it quiet in an Astronaut's bed?
Sush, and see if you can't hear anything.
Mise le Meas Jan 24th in the silence of modern machines... hummmmm
Do the deaf still hear a humming?
A place so serene it's profound.
But the beat of one's heart still a drumming.
Can one be in a vacuum of sound?
Is that what Collins would have said,
If Buzz didn't talk first time round?
Is it quiet in an Astronaut's bed?
Sush, and see if you can't hear anything.
Mise le Meas Jan 24th in the silence of modern machines... hummmmm
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Piper's Popular Amusement Bumper Cars
Piper's Popular Amusement Bumper Cars!
That was the first time I heard Hank Williams from afar.
We'd go there on Saturday night, down Crosser with the boys,
Boat Swings, candy floss, and the stars above our eyes.
Oh, chips on the bus as we sang on our way home,
Past the RCYC into the darkness as we roamed.
Drake's pool full of boats and the regatta under way.
We down on Sunday too just to spend the day!
At, Piper's Popular Amusement Bumper Cars
Merries, we used to call them, when we came down from the Barr's!
Saturday night we'd get a newspaper full of chips.
Take them home upon the bus in hopes of wax upon our lips!
I chanced me arm and got a snaker on Rabbit Island going home,
A slap I got a across the face as my fingers they did roam.
But we're still friend's and time has passed and I think she's forgiven me.
And we'll never forget our first night out on a spree!
At, Piper's Popular Amusement Bumper Cars
We're Hank Williams, he sang to me his music from a far.
Swing boats and roundabouts, a chance to knock down three,
The best nights in Crosser with the Merries for company.
The bear hunters from Blackrock, they always ganged on me.
There I was in the number five of the bumper cars smartly.
And turn around and there they were in numbers like before,
Bang, bang, bang go the bumper cars and Hank Williams voice once more.
At, Piper's Popular Amusement Bumper Cars!
Mise le Meas Jan 23rd 2011, rambled it into phone in NYC Oct 2010 in the company of great friends.
That was the first time I heard Hank Williams from afar.
We'd go there on Saturday night, down Crosser with the boys,
Boat Swings, candy floss, and the stars above our eyes.
Oh, chips on the bus as we sang on our way home,
Past the RCYC into the darkness as we roamed.
Drake's pool full of boats and the regatta under way.
We down on Sunday too just to spend the day!
At, Piper's Popular Amusement Bumper Cars
Merries, we used to call them, when we came down from the Barr's!
Saturday night we'd get a newspaper full of chips.
Take them home upon the bus in hopes of wax upon our lips!
I chanced me arm and got a snaker on Rabbit Island going home,
A slap I got a across the face as my fingers they did roam.
But we're still friend's and time has passed and I think she's forgiven me.
And we'll never forget our first night out on a spree!
At, Piper's Popular Amusement Bumper Cars
We're Hank Williams, he sang to me his music from a far.
Swing boats and roundabouts, a chance to knock down three,
The best nights in Crosser with the Merries for company.
The bear hunters from Blackrock, they always ganged on me.
There I was in the number five of the bumper cars smartly.
And turn around and there they were in numbers like before,
Bang, bang, bang go the bumper cars and Hank Williams voice once more.
At, Piper's Popular Amusement Bumper Cars!
Mise le Meas Jan 23rd 2011, rambled it into phone in NYC Oct 2010 in the company of great friends.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Joe's Gone
Last night you sipped away without even a notion
A heart full of wonder and a body full of motion.
Glasses upon your nose and telly still on.
Called away in the night and so you are gone.
No talk of your departure no sign or a worry.
You were called by himself and you left in a hurry.
No cry of a banshee, no wail or no thunder.
News flew the next morning and all left fall asunder.
In my side a pain is not yet fully created
By the heartache of loss as you soul is elated
To the heavens above the bright blue sky
And they are waiting for you, so no need to be shy.
A man full of wit, of benevolence and joy
Driving and dancing since you were a boy.
But, now, the long jounery has come to a close
And dancing on clouds should soften your toes.
Look down on us here left upon this earth,
With signs to show us what real life is worth.
Keep us in time in place and in motion.
And we'll all dance again, when God takes the notion.
Mise le Meas Jan 22nd after news of the passing of a dear friend.
A heart full of wonder and a body full of motion.
Glasses upon your nose and telly still on.
Called away in the night and so you are gone.
No talk of your departure no sign or a worry.
You were called by himself and you left in a hurry.
No cry of a banshee, no wail or no thunder.
News flew the next morning and all left fall asunder.
In my side a pain is not yet fully created
By the heartache of loss as you soul is elated
To the heavens above the bright blue sky
And they are waiting for you, so no need to be shy.
A man full of wit, of benevolence and joy
Driving and dancing since you were a boy.
But, now, the long jounery has come to a close
And dancing on clouds should soften your toes.
Look down on us here left upon this earth,
With signs to show us what real life is worth.
Keep us in time in place and in motion.
And we'll all dance again, when God takes the notion.
Mise le Meas Jan 22nd after news of the passing of a dear friend.
Friday, January 21, 2011
You're man, lah!
But, what is he a tall, the old fool?
A ghom who looks nowhere outside his head?
He thinks he's as smart as George Boole.
As the fella cried one day from his bed,
'looking for work and praying to God he don't get it.'
And if asked, oh, he'd never admit!
All talk and no show to be seen?
Even his mother don't know where he's been.
He is a Goat to be sure,
And one summer I ne'ver for get?
In the cupboard's smelly grand tour
Found a mustard, three years old I'd bet.
Ate it up so sweet
With his cabbage and meet.
I thought 'twould burn a whole in his spine.
Lord God, he'd eat the clothes off the line.
Mise le Meas Jan 21st after a chat with a fella about a few other fellas, like eeecckk!
A ghom who looks nowhere outside his head?
He thinks he's as smart as George Boole.
As the fella cried one day from his bed,
'looking for work and praying to God he don't get it.'
And if asked, oh, he'd never admit!
All talk and no show to be seen?
Even his mother don't know where he's been.
He is a Goat to be sure,
And one summer I ne'ver for get?
In the cupboard's smelly grand tour
Found a mustard, three years old I'd bet.
Ate it up so sweet
With his cabbage and meet.
I thought 'twould burn a whole in his spine.
Lord God, he'd eat the clothes off the line.
Mise le Meas Jan 21st after a chat with a fella about a few other fellas, like eeecckk!
Thursday, January 20, 2011
The First Follower
With a follower in suit I try hard now to keep the journey under me.
Unlike much of life which has been a weight seemingly ever more each day,
I escape to a land of unknowns and unknowing eyes to emulate unknowing truths.
But here am I standing in the wind, sitting the sunshine, dreaming in the moonlight and dancing in the melodies of mind. To wander to places once seen by another's words that hit my ear in time of relaunched passion in their hearts.
Where is the passion I once had for wanderlust of mountains. When my faithful body was but a slimmer motion of ease and temperance. When my fingers itched to be within the inner circle of excitement and longing to touch the untouchable fruit.
Alas, now my belly and I who are trying part ways, find it so hard to renege on the friendship that has been so long in growing, find wonderment in how the roads walked by our feet were so long and turning to bring us to places that seem light years away.
We cannot turn our own hour glass, but merely watch the gains fall from above and know that eternity is not on our side but beckons us across the end of sands to the heavens of time where no sugar can sweeten anymore, or worst yet to a roasting finish.
My road is a road but may not be yours, follow me and gaze at the blunders I leave behind me. If you can sidestep these and those of your own then you will last the sands but tumble with me and more, will see you where we dare not mention.
Mise le Meas Jan 20th 2011 after seeing a follower of the poems
Unlike much of life which has been a weight seemingly ever more each day,
I escape to a land of unknowns and unknowing eyes to emulate unknowing truths.
But here am I standing in the wind, sitting the sunshine, dreaming in the moonlight and dancing in the melodies of mind. To wander to places once seen by another's words that hit my ear in time of relaunched passion in their hearts.
Where is the passion I once had for wanderlust of mountains. When my faithful body was but a slimmer motion of ease and temperance. When my fingers itched to be within the inner circle of excitement and longing to touch the untouchable fruit.
Alas, now my belly and I who are trying part ways, find it so hard to renege on the friendship that has been so long in growing, find wonderment in how the roads walked by our feet were so long and turning to bring us to places that seem light years away.
We cannot turn our own hour glass, but merely watch the gains fall from above and know that eternity is not on our side but beckons us across the end of sands to the heavens of time where no sugar can sweeten anymore, or worst yet to a roasting finish.
My road is a road but may not be yours, follow me and gaze at the blunders I leave behind me. If you can sidestep these and those of your own then you will last the sands but tumble with me and more, will see you where we dare not mention.
Mise le Meas Jan 20th 2011 after seeing a follower of the poems
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Nights on the nibble
A taste of this, a taste of that,
spooning the way to destiny.
A drop of demiglace, a pinch of pepper,
Oh the Lord spare me from blasphemy.
We share and share alike
as satisfaction becomes diluted
With each morsol drooping eye
show the blood saturated
With finetties and delight, Oh the pain!
Tomorrow morning when sleep is deprived again
by the best of taste and finest of fine
escapes in bovine emissions in time.
Mise le Meas Jan 19th 2011 after a night out eating.
spooning the way to destiny.
A drop of demiglace, a pinch of pepper,
Oh the Lord spare me from blasphemy.
We share and share alike
as satisfaction becomes diluted
With each morsol drooping eye
show the blood saturated
With finetties and delight, Oh the pain!
Tomorrow morning when sleep is deprived again
by the best of taste and finest of fine
escapes in bovine emissions in time.
Mise le Meas Jan 19th 2011 after a night out eating.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
So much time and but little done
With this one time, one look wonderland of faces.
Give me a book with words that take me to Fun
places I want to go
Rather than a book of pictures and smart comments
from nights out of which I don't want to know.
I look and scan and ramble and surf for jewels
And wonder am I as scanned by patrols?
Am I a wave so desired to bring individuals
away from saving their moral souls?
Would what I rant and post be enough
To distract the finest from the Holy Ghost?
Alas, I'd say, I am only a lucky number
That gets picked a random but little
And still more like me do wonder
Does Facebook make life less fickle?
Mise le Meas Jan 18th 2011 on the way to bed
With this one time, one look wonderland of faces.
Give me a book with words that take me to Fun
places I want to go
Rather than a book of pictures and smart comments
from nights out of which I don't want to know.
I look and scan and ramble and surf for jewels
And wonder am I as scanned by patrols?
Am I a wave so desired to bring individuals
away from saving their moral souls?
Would what I rant and post be enough
To distract the finest from the Holy Ghost?
Alas, I'd say, I am only a lucky number
That gets picked a random but little
And still more like me do wonder
Does Facebook make life less fickle?
Mise le Meas Jan 18th 2011 on the way to bed
Monday, January 17, 2011
Cosmetic Snow
As the news caster was saying good night
With his dead pan expression elevated
He informed us of his forsight
That in the morning more snow was to be created.
'Not a lot now,' he says, 'was to be falling,
But sprinkle, a dusting, a trifle.
To clean the dirt after the thawing,
To end the high temperature cycle.'
'Era,' says I, 'what about it,
Aren't we used to the talk of snow now?'
'But,' says she, 'didn't you like it,
When there was little or no sign of the plow?'.
I did, begorrah, and more,
But wasn't the sliding at night just pathetic?
And as the meteorologist himself just swore,
The snow would be only cosmetic.
Mise le Meas Jan 17th 2011 laughing at the weatherman!
With his dead pan expression elevated
He informed us of his forsight
That in the morning more snow was to be created.
'Not a lot now,' he says, 'was to be falling,
But sprinkle, a dusting, a trifle.
To clean the dirt after the thawing,
To end the high temperature cycle.'
'Era,' says I, 'what about it,
Aren't we used to the talk of snow now?'
'But,' says she, 'didn't you like it,
When there was little or no sign of the plow?'.
I did, begorrah, and more,
But wasn't the sliding at night just pathetic?
And as the meteorologist himself just swore,
The snow would be only cosmetic.
Mise le Meas Jan 17th 2011 laughing at the weatherman!
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Flew
Exhausted with a taste of stale mouth,
Air of freshness far too crisp for tongue to feel.
Hot head but cold and clammy feet,
Do make a stomach fear it may eject it's meal.
Lids drooping over eyes of water base.
Nostrils straining breath of congestion.
Mind numbing with lights too bright
but yet too dark to see the lines of faith
that keep the fire burning
upon the praying candle in the crypt.
Fingers reach to a touch unfirm, unfamiliar.
Lenses look to a distance far to close to focus.
Sounds come and go to ear's hairy waves
that transfer to muffled tones of something past.
Mise le Meas Jan 16th 2011
Air of freshness far too crisp for tongue to feel.
Hot head but cold and clammy feet,
Do make a stomach fear it may eject it's meal.
Lids drooping over eyes of water base.
Nostrils straining breath of congestion.
Mind numbing with lights too bright
but yet too dark to see the lines of faith
that keep the fire burning
upon the praying candle in the crypt.
Fingers reach to a touch unfirm, unfamiliar.
Lenses look to a distance far to close to focus.
Sounds come and go to ear's hairy waves
that transfer to muffled tones of something past.
Mise le Meas Jan 16th 2011
Winter Kaw kaw
At a Stop Go sign in my town,
I chance to glide my window down
And hear the kawing of the crows
Above and about the trees
Saying goodbye to the vanishing Sun
What little Sun rays we have these days
In the depth of Winter's blue
When Crows are the skyes only friend
Bar the geese whos compass have lost their way
And seem to fly Northward o'er my window
To disguise that Winter is now to stay
And Summer will no more us see
Until the end of May
When Sunshine will flow again
And warm our houses free
That we may put on the cooler
So that we may feel like Winter
In the height of Summer.
Mise le Meas Jan 15th (composed in the car as I drove home, spoke it into dicta-phone)
I chance to glide my window down
And hear the kawing of the crows
Above and about the trees
Saying goodbye to the vanishing Sun
What little Sun rays we have these days
In the depth of Winter's blue
When Crows are the skyes only friend
Bar the geese whos compass have lost their way
And seem to fly Northward o'er my window
To disguise that Winter is now to stay
And Summer will no more us see
Until the end of May
When Sunshine will flow again
And warm our houses free
That we may put on the cooler
So that we may feel like Winter
In the height of Summer.
Mise le Meas Jan 15th (composed in the car as I drove home, spoke it into dicta-phone)
Friday, January 14, 2011
Geese fly over!
One hears the southward traffic of geese
ever more frequently over head as the temperature drops.
The garage doors open
and the non de-script leave from their similar houses
as the wind winds around and around
to makes us all feel comforted
as winter makes her slow passage to our gates,
where she will sit and visit to an overstayed welcome
and abruptly leave in a mushy mess of floods and flowers
so spring can wipe away our tears of icicled pain
but swiftly leave again as Summer bullies his way into our hearts
and claim to bring sunshine and growth
but will spoil it all with a conniving fall
into the plains of a wet white once more
as all the while our watchers call out
the seasonal changes form above
as they fly from lakes to lagoons.
Mise le Meas Jan 14th 2011 (Written sometime on September 24th 2010 looking out my upstairs window)
ever more frequently over head as the temperature drops.
The garage doors open
and the non de-script leave from their similar houses
as the wind winds around and around
to makes us all feel comforted
as winter makes her slow passage to our gates,
where she will sit and visit to an overstayed welcome
and abruptly leave in a mushy mess of floods and flowers
so spring can wipe away our tears of icicled pain
but swiftly leave again as Summer bullies his way into our hearts
and claim to bring sunshine and growth
but will spoil it all with a conniving fall
into the plains of a wet white once more
as all the while our watchers call out
the seasonal changes form above
as they fly from lakes to lagoons.
Mise le Meas Jan 14th 2011 (Written sometime on September 24th 2010 looking out my upstairs window)
Thursday, January 13, 2011
The first fool
Are we yet as foolish as Adam?
Would we but fall and eat any from the hand of woman?
How sly the serpent slithered down
the slopes of such a sacred scape of land.
Is it the want of the unknown that makes the heart grow fonder?
Perhaps that with which come as a cannot have has the hand hatch out.
But blunder we must and eat and spit to sow the leaves from fig tree yonder.
And fat we grow with wisdom told to us as we become wise and stout.
With millennia past and billions come and gone
We still seem to have circumvented the Genesis ingenious caution
Please do not go where you should not go
And only eat what He gives to you!
Mise le Meas, Jan 13th 2011
Would we but fall and eat any from the hand of woman?
How sly the serpent slithered down
the slopes of such a sacred scape of land.
Is it the want of the unknown that makes the heart grow fonder?
Perhaps that with which come as a cannot have has the hand hatch out.
But blunder we must and eat and spit to sow the leaves from fig tree yonder.
And fat we grow with wisdom told to us as we become wise and stout.
With millennia past and billions come and gone
We still seem to have circumvented the Genesis ingenious caution
Please do not go where you should not go
And only eat what He gives to you!
Mise le Meas, Jan 13th 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Why now?
Why not now?
If I had sight throughout the day I would have done it then,
But I could not see the time to do it and I am stuck with tasks for now.
I would like to not do it then but I was away and had tasks of my own.
Why can't you have your tasks done in time like I, so we can be taskless together?
I would not be who you wanted me to be if I was you.
I am my own self and that is the main reason as to why.
SO now.
Mise le meas Jan 12th 2011
If I had sight throughout the day I would have done it then,
But I could not see the time to do it and I am stuck with tasks for now.
I would like to not do it then but I was away and had tasks of my own.
Why can't you have your tasks done in time like I, so we can be taskless together?
I would not be who you wanted me to be if I was you.
I am my own self and that is the main reason as to why.
SO now.
Mise le meas Jan 12th 2011
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
First of the first days to take me somewhere else
For what drives the human spirit?
Can't it but stop at home so fine?
Must it go and go and go
until it's inner light can not shine?
For what makes the mind wander?
Is it not ever satisfied with where 'tis?
Does it have to bring one out of now
into a world of mix and quiz?
Bring me to a place of steady.
Bring me to a place of peace.
Show me how one taste
can calm the temping beast.
Sails away my steadfast reason
into a world of constant ad-lib
to bring with it a whirl and toss
not a tight main and well cut jib.
But a flapping sheet
and untrim kite,
rudder lost
and unending night...
Mise le Meas Jan 11th 2011
Can't it but stop at home so fine?
Must it go and go and go
until it's inner light can not shine?
For what makes the mind wander?
Is it not ever satisfied with where 'tis?
Does it have to bring one out of now
into a world of mix and quiz?
Bring me to a place of steady.
Bring me to a place of peace.
Show me how one taste
can calm the temping beast.
Sails away my steadfast reason
into a world of constant ad-lib
to bring with it a whirl and toss
not a tight main and well cut jib.
But a flapping sheet
and untrim kite,
rudder lost
and unending night...
Mise le Meas Jan 11th 2011
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