Reader

Reader

Life is absurd it reached the point of no return there is too many writers but only one reader. 666. Today the Reader begins his list there is fifteen million six hundred sixty six. Some of these Authors seem very very good some of them stink. He putts the stink on the shelf he only reads the best of the very best. He skips the cartoons you get the idea it will soon be manageable for him this list. He needs to get the list down to 666. Two poems every Day he will Read for one year then take some time off to rest to start over the next item on this list is Novels Novellas Great beasts of length. He only reads poems this reader is slick. He noses the books to find prose now no rhymes without reasons then he suddenly finds the Charlax poetry section in the lieberry. He quickly Marks his list to include only this one guy. This is what he Read.
The West.
Would eye live in the old wild west
the notebook penned inside my vest
the pacifist
the old homeless
beaten down into the ground
just for being around them
those who kill
then bury the evidence in the sea
then they danced over my demise
drinking whoring killing more of there own kind
do not count me among the living
the brother killed me the long time over
then the same sort of killers
do it over then over
while they rule nothing but the wicked
who choose to be like them
soon to be recognized
then forever gone
you should not have killed me old son
The Reader closed his list. THIS he smiled this poem this poet this is all eye will ever Read.

Poem FOur

Poem Four



waterlily
waterlily
green my bottom is white eye do have the longest roots in this pond of brooks Walden the frog is not real heavy he is one of the young ones eye suppose he likes me he feels safe sitting me eye dew enjoy his company the things this lily pad does is float then dream of love the fish here got lazy they do not even nibble on my roots eye like to pretend to live forever its so cool when the sky clouds up eye no longer fear the rain falls from the white sky the drops not even disturbing my wort up top the frog shudders then relaxes letting the water cascade past him to the river is under us under the ground the underground river is found below the water line the water is not good to drink dark swirling blackish stench but here the life is clean the air is pure where frogs sit on these lilypads to dream of love in Walden's pond

Addicted

Addicted

NO one of us is immune to the love
eye love ewe
there is no doubt
there is no hurry
when the time comes
we will then scurry in the flurry
purple flowers never wilt
they last forever in love
prayers until then
my love my heart my friend
my woman in Faith
our ties do not bind us
to sin
only to each other
only to love
we get addicted then
when Valentine's Day finally comes
to greet us with the kis of love
roses red violets blue
no one loves you like eye dew
do you seem addicted too

GOO

GOO

Thank YOu Jesus for the people bye the people in spite of them people under your steeple.

GOO

Slimey slick white icky licky to some wipe it off quick to others think thick some think thin viscous or blotted vicarious or controlled released or kept inside red yellow green when sick or white when fine eye have seen it clear but not refined do not speak to me of goo it bodes ill for noise it is residue in Chambers not yet clean but in her hands it finds new meaning it is mostly unclean but not in the marriage it is acceptable in lovers portions but not spoken of in polite society they only form opinions of the matters of the flesh but goo is never living but its dead formed from the living tissue but alive on some forgotten microscopic level they think its where the babies still come from the rolling thunder of the Ocean Waves. Poe would not begin to goo or you would you title your next poem goo tell me who would goo these pages to the poetry distillations in this famine stuck in winter everyone is poet there is novelists who write but never goo so eye choose to goo its not the sin in my house to love its not never nothing bad they goo you knoe they do they goo or they lie to say they did not do it they did it there is no doubt why not admit it sometimes so thick the goo it oozes in the landscape from the milkweed but no do not drink the goo its poison goo pretend the eye will be the goo for you goo is never dirty goo goo is good for you goo is good for eye envision whole Nations rising upp from mudd to be torn to goo to be turned from sin into goo to goo when life is over to be the goo in Heaven there is goo but its unleavened

EightCandlesForJesus

EightCandlesForJesus

The Rabbi lights his Hanukkiah ONE Candle only on DEC first then he snuffs it out then waits for the next evening on the Dec 2 he lights the Second Candle for the first Day of the Hanukkah no one gets his meaning for it only pertains to GOD. He lights the first candle to be the OIL that burned for the eight days of Hanukkah when the Temple was rebuilt in 164 BC. It was just the little before my time. When eye entered the lieberry this evening some well dressed Man almost obstructed me his question was this one “are you just passing through??” like the smiler in the night ? non so Eye reminded him not to obstruct my entry then eye asked HIM iff he Had some sort of question for me?? but he Had shot his wad then waddled off. NO doubt he is now in agony from my repartee. The Rabbi lights the second candle tonight to be the first represented Day of the covenant of the Temple of Jerusalem. Since there is seldom food found in the world in winter we will just not describe the feast today. I think they must have eaten dates which were preserved in urns then used to give life to insides of people still living needing food. Eye will not let you SHRINK my Brain it needs to expend its synergy in words designed to pull the listener to the understanding she whats Read then giving love to them the ewe the girls the friends. Eye did not learn life from the books but then they helped. To let this poor suffering Jesus give this prose to upper crusting nose please do not let my simpleton poetry poem now or ever will escape you or brush my truth from sight these Temple Candles lighted here were lighted upp for Jesus Christ.

This is the Eighth Day counting down.

OR Day Two of Nine.

About employment

About employment

You have to work a job to live inside a house to have a spouse. To espouse real poetry apparently you have to have that ability to curse and use the f word a lot to make your entrance from the parking lot but eye just wont accept this eye make real poems with real words a lot and never read them even to myself aloud. Eye had to distance myself from people who read real poetry eye lost a LOT of friends in Cleveland. The woman is gone. She hates me in her silent world she shouts but eye cant see here now. The seer makes his daily sacrifice the short road move in the noon day sun the toads carry the light across my road as eye miss the girl and ponder this mistake why do eye care so very much for her there where she is not thinking of me not even as her day folds the time away into her very heart is gone from me and death has gotten very close to me its breath is the daylight on my friends toads backs. Eye have to reach the switch inside of me the one that closes off my love.

Time Travel

Time Travel

Walking slowly quickly threw the desert looking
wanting water finding sand
finding sand but wanting water looking quickly
travelling in time
time travelling
making way to way of time
making tao to tao of time
day is gone nite is ici
cold is here to stay love is cold
and gone away
time travelling
travelling in time
finding sand but wanting water quickly looking
wanting water finding sand
Walking slowly quickly threw the desert looking
For ewe love.
Time.