Red Eye (Listening to Guthrie)


Fun with dactyls.

Originally posted on Mild Musings from a Mediocre Man:

Pictures of people all plastic on credit
Part from the parcel we found on our debit
Find rows of McMansions grey all their houses
Dreary long driveways with Stepford-style spouses
Greeting each noble disciple espousing
Capital pleases his Lord of arousing
Justice is bleeding the eye of the holder
Meek be the poorer the richer grow bolder

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Dust is Still Blowin’


Once an Okie…

Originally posted on Mild Musings from a Mediocre Man:

Though the winds are still a blowin’
and the rich barre their doors
We folks just keep a runnin’ out
of tears in droves n’ scores
N’ the beggars are all beggared
there’s no food in them stores
And folks keep on a sayin’
they ain’t no dust bowl anymore

Now them clouds of gray still ramble
n’ the earth ‘s awful scorched
All our babies still a cryin’
Dry pangs and mouths all parched
So I asked my good man, Colburn
whatn’ this world’ would be worse
But he kept on a sayin’
they ain’t no dust bowl anymore

See the sun ‘s almighty higher
n’ the heat’ll stop ya cold
They ain’t no breeze a blowin’
to ease the sick, young, poor n’ old
My mouth tastes red dirt dust clouds
n’ I feel I’m getting bold
But my neighbour is swearin’
they ain’t no dust bowl anymore

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Ruled by the specter of Beelzebub’s ghost
They forsook their children, accusing them host
To all manner of demons – wanton and lust
Casting out legion, this abuse somehow just

Spring Fling

Red breasts bare; farewell to winter
And roofs drip drops in time
The air sings songs of adulation
Exubed with nature’s rhyme

The sun rise rays raise doting amours
To plant in flow’ring beds
So spring may fling new vibrant colors
And come when summer’s wed

And rain, dear rain, come soothe our fervor
Do quench the kindle’s will
What burns in spring’s abyssal belly
May protrude and spill

So revel long in spring-time fete
As summer soon be here
Once Erotes be a belly sate
Do draw your lover near

Enter Title Here (>.<)


Another throwback poem. I hope you enjoy.

Originally posted on Mild Musings from a Mediocre Man:

He’s beautiful, man – I think he’s a man
Or so he was when last we met
A pen-deviled mummer; a wonderful traveler
Even the years of then
As he grew older, each year older
Great wires embraced his neck
Then slipped into his veins; unknown to the Brain,
The body infected

So dim, the eyes; fogged, stained windows
Face down in moors and slough
Wire-sprout snakes emanate – snape
From his skull bones
When he spake, harsh discordant sounds
Abraded the ears
Until connected with others infected
With veins of wires

Beautiful man – once beautiful man
When once of Dandelion
Now skin of grey and dark bumped wrists
Serve as great Orion
Fair game – all; ’twas even of then
Ripe for this disease
Once blood-filled veins now flow silicone alone
This man is extinct

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An Angel’s Trumpet

Tonight I dine on Anodynes
To dull my buzzing brain
That hounds a thought so thick and sharp
My heart dare not explain

‘Twas her desires, more oft than not
Pumped panes to broken glass
Who cut with blood up from the gut
An Angel’s trumpet blast

And through the even I forgot
The sharp conundrum’s bane
Tones designed from Luna’s eye
Formed a temporary wraith

Who plagued a sort, an oddly sort
Resting upon my brow
Whispering words of soft retort
To each redemptive vow

That the heart shall no longer keep
Her business with the blood
But pump instead the Angel’s breath
The leaves of Datura

So here I wither – thought all lost
A whim unto the wind
The night I dined on Anodynes
My buzzing brain be damned

A Tip of My Brim

Originally posted on Mild Musings from a Mediocre Man:

He’s a haggard ol’ man
Quite grizzled and unkind
Who fancies an untruth
Rather than “telling lies”
He’s unkempt, unshaven
Bristled with Jack and Sevens
A giant of discord
Though he’s “long” for Heaven

On the night Jesus wept
He played Judas’ silver
This self-proclaimed prophet
Took a Good Book – pilfered
Every proverb of sin
And proscribed with a whim
All the world is a fire
Salvation be to him

We chanced to meet in time
Between thick window panes
The eyes were quite surprised
His fry was not afraid

I paused,
lowered my gaze
Resolving for the day
That the brim of my hat
Would be all that I’d say

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