The Joynt & Beyond

   The Joynt,
nice place for a chance,
heartbeat quickened.
   A beauty named a chance
encounter.
   A love struck fire in a
Smokey forge.
   A time rung true under church bells
clock.
    A child brought forth five times
happy.
   A happiness in embrace for
every moment held dear.
    A true lover's held near.
A best friend's advice best
beyond even tears.
I love in beauty the everything found so very much here.
Walking near the shore,
hand in hand.
Bit's of sand melted glass one of our treasures held dear.
  Finale in the last of loving breathe guarded fierce.
In the bit's fallen through a new love's begun,
for a new generation to hope to quench the thirst.
A little sand to color the horizon and the beyond.

I Found A Business In My Sadness

Am I in time to burn?
or do I have to wait my turn?
I find my match in gasoline.
Inflammatory and joyously grievous.
I like to lick tape, and chew my mike and Ike's in piece.
Insanity is gravy to drink backwards.
I often get it caught in my teeth.
I look at the sidewalk and the businessmen walk by in digust.
My business all over the place.
Set up a stand and join the disarray of putrid thought.
In my haste to make waste, I forgot to Howl at the crazy sane people.
I will howl this and that for pennies, nickels, and dimes.
A fine trade for the poor.
Beg and you will achieve nothing in nothing.
A scrap for this, A scrap for that.
A fine kettle to cook the ill's gotten gains.

Smells & Fireworks for Assholes

   Tired of being sick. I've been very ill with some form of virus that will not stop. It's trying my patience the  f***ing thing should die soon. I'll be so frigin' happy. I could puke joy. In regard to my mental status. I'm as crazy as ever. I despise that word, yet sometimes, I like to use it anyway. I'm at a loss for things to wright about. I'm about as comfortable as sitting in a room of vipers with those snaps for kids on the fourth of July. Just bidding my time to decide which vipers to whip snaps at. Gotta die sometime, might as well go out with a bang. I would like a last meal though. My house stinks of some sort of gas. Which as of present is undetermined about the origin. I think I nuked the basement with bleach and poison with snap-traps as the finale for the little bastards. I believe some died in the walls and are impossible to retrieve for disposal. So I'm subjecting my family to the stench of the disease ridden animals decaying. Yaayyyy! F***ing Mice, Rats, whatever it is. Die, Die, Die! I can't bring a baby home to this, and expose my children to this. I have a dehumidifier on full blast in the affected area, and the smell seems to be dissipating. Thank you God! Please respond in kind!  

Mahalo.

On the Prairie

  I whisper in the darkness
close to ear and wispy thoughts.
That abound in the fertile fields of my imaginations.
I cry and feel myself dying in crowded bunches of brown prairie grasses.
I feel now in my fearful hope that imagination now binds in me.
I swallow and choke on the bitter morning brew from old speculations steaming.
In a boat on dry land, I find that my sea legs are ready.
I walk a shallow, staggered line in my brief encounter with the magic of the minds dreaming.
I will dream till I die, Long and far upon the prairie.
I will find my time under sheltered tears and with cracked lips.
Heaven is there to quench my thirst, one day, someday.
On the prairie.

Mr. Sickness, I'd like A Rain Check, Please

  In times of trouble Mother Mary comes to me.
I'm so sick I don't know what to say but "shit this really sucks" and laugh very insanely. I believe the point of this virus is to suck even more life out of me. It can really just kiss my ass. I would like a rain check, the kind I would never cash in, even if stupidity brought me to the bank in high heels and skirt. Now I would like to be better, please pray for me. I will say a little prayer for you.

P.s. nothing wrong with high heels and skirt.

Mahalo.

Not True Mr. Ignorance

  In spite of my lacking a lot of travel and even information of the written word. I have endeavored, though time often isn't a body's friend. We dance through, this mist of ignorance toward an unknown. A gut feeling, a passing hint in a short glimmer in some strangers eyes.

Mahalo.

I''m Sick

   I feel like I swallowed broken glass, and was been beaten by a baseball bat, and finished with a crowbar. I think I'm going to drink a coke sweetened with bourbon or brandy. Whatever I have handy, so cheers, and goodbye.

Mahalo.