Published on: 8/4/2010
Beneath the Stanid Sky

Beneath the pale and stanid sky
With naptures fixed and true,
The solemn zefferdonne supply
A most sumpeltious view.
The moistome gels all gasp and swoon
And dream of menchel honeymoon
The moistome gels
The moistome gels
Give purpose to the vast platoon.

The clear and strillant trumpets play
To battle, zefferdonne!
But weeping moistome gels must stay
And strive to carry on.
The burden shared by zeff and gel
From Jonoch's stair to gates of Hell
The burden shared
The burden shared
As each bids other fond farewell.

For seven nacks, the zeffs are gone,
For seven hellish nacks,
And then return, debbish and drawn,
With rukaas 'cross their backs.
The waiting gels, moistome no more
Can hardly bear to see the corps.
The waiting gels
The waiting gels
Pretending all is as before.

The distance grown 'tween gel and zeff
Will dwindle over time.
But twice the seven nacks won't greff
The scars it left behind.
And all will pray to Jonoch's ears
An everlasting end to tears.
And all will pray
And all will pray
That dovinch reign and banish fears.

Published on: 8/4/2010
Do not thy Beauty scorn

A response poem to "It is not Beauty I demand" by George Darley

I understand your preference
    For sympathy and loyal heart
And hope that you take no offence
    When I assert our ways do part.

Though kindly heart I hold most dear,
    I hold it closest, love it best,
When it beats fast in chemise sheer
    And hid beneath a shapely breast.

Vain mermaid's yellow pride is least
    True proof of loyalty and trust.
But lovely tresses oft' released
    Are pleasing o'er an ample bust.

'Tis true that gentle words can come
    From lips both pale and thinned by time
But words less fair make me succumb
    When dropped from ruby lips sublime.

Much softer than a summer breeze
    That golden meadow cleft in twain;
Such shadows shimmer, made to please.
    Temptations, may your heart disdain.

Just gauds, you say, of no import
    Dismissing eyes with ardor filled
Ye gods, I say, in quick retort
    Such smold'ring eyes my passion thrilled.

Your earthly comfort shared your fate
    And gently laid her loyal head.
My comfort lies 'fore Heaven's Gate
    Her lively beauty shares my bed.

Published on: 6/10/2010
The cozy chair that I'm not in

Beside the cozy fireplace, a chair
Sits patiently awaiting my return.
I'd give my first-born child to be back there
Instead I weep, as I will never learn.

Your cheery voice should warn me in advance,
Bright optimistic tales of camping fun.
I curse myself that I once had the chance
To walk away, or better yet, to run!

But tales of bonhomie and leafy walks
Made me forget that after day, there's night
So here I quake and listen for what stalks
A camper much too terrified to fight.

You swear naught in the darkness lies
But I can feel a thousand hostile eyes.

Published on: 6/10/2010
Twisted Mister

Don't get your knickers in a twist
If my delights you can't resist;
You may be solemn and devout
But twisted genes will force you out.

On Sunday you may don the frock,
Recite the text, enthrall the flock,
But Monday you are back again
'Cause what I've got appeals to men.

Bring your dollars, bring your coins,
I'll light a fire between your loins.
Though it seems twisted wickedness,
Your heart says "No!", but body "Yes!"

Remove your collar, hat and clothes
The blood down to your manhood flows
You say a prayer, then with a lunge
You twist and thrust and take the plunge.

With passion gone and manhood bent
Each hard earned dollar long since spent
You head for home to face your wife
True victim of your twisted life.

But Sunday when you rage at sin
Remember how you twist within
Though you seem pure, you must admit
You're just a twisted hypocrite.

Published on: 2/18/2010
Whither Gods, Distracted?

I fumbled for my change and gave, at most, a passing glance.
No premonition from above to heed your smiling face.
My mind, preoccupied and lonely, failed to grasp the chance.
A look, then off to work, your presence gone without a trace.

Unless we meet again, we were just strangers on the bus,
Your tender gaze or soothing touch reserved, but not for me.
Unlike two ships, no signal flares ignited just for us.
The Moirae sleeping at the helm forgot to roil the sea.

What happy times might we have shared if we'
d been made aware,
If mighty Zeus had paused mid-sky and loosed a thunder-bolt?
Our children might have frolicked under elms without a care,
But Zeus (distracted by Europa?) failed to send his jolt.

Yet, could our fates remain divided by such oversight?
Would Zeus and Moirae, unchagrined, give up without a fuss?
Will no fierce god yet intervene to set our futures right?
Unless we meet again, just passing strangers on the bus.