Clean slate, what's more exciting!? Some theorize that apes,
when sitting down and writing, will somehow match the shapes
of ancient masterpieces, if trying long enough.
I'm skeptical, though primate, perhaps I have the stuff?
I close my eyes, start typing. Put period. All right.
Open my eyes. The page says: "....a dark and stormy night."
fortune favors the bold
in some cases, outrageous
stories we've all been told
heard and loved, through the ages
it's no wonder we love
a good bite your nails story
each of us dreaming of
riches, fame, and vain glory
He has no weaknesses, no vulnerable spots.
His golden armor covers him from head to toe.
Fate follows Fortune. In the drawing of their lots,
they favored him. So very few've been favored so.
His tutors were among the best that gods can buy,
and Chiron let himself be saddled, yes, for fun!
An ocean nymph would sing him Grecian lullabies,
great Thetis singing: "child of mine, you'll be the one!"
Exalted as the best among both kings and Greeks
he leads the Myrmidons on to the sandy beach
and plans to take Troy quickly. Fame is what he seeks.
He has all else, and knows that nothing's out of reach.
A bronze age hero, he's brought down, but not by steel.
The story may be myth, the moral, though, is real.
in trying to bring home the bacon
my faith in the system's been shaken
the meat lover's aisle
been closed for a while
and all of the bacon's been taken
the store is indifferent and humdrum
to solve this supply chain conundrum
I brought them a pig
though he hated that gig
and squealed as he would, a real tantrum
take me, Aquarius, make me your daughter
dress me in blue, pearls the color of water
I long for silence, I long for release
breathe into me, and at last, give me peace
Author notes: image from shutterstock
The Earl of Oxford, it is said today
was Shakespeare. Many devotees believe
the plays were sent to William, with good pay.
The scheme, well practiced, managed to deceive.
The line: "oh what a tangled web we weave"
perhaps a clue to the deception's breath,
which both concealed, and even onto death.
I'm skeptical of this outrageous claim.
Elizabethans surely knew the truth,
but knowing Will an actor, with no name,
by all accounts prolific, but uncouth;
they sought perhaps to mollify and soothe
their egos, thinking no plebe so unschooled
could write better than them, than those who ruled.
Go tell them Will, a rose still smells as sweet
when taken by a farmhand with a spade.
A maiden can soon sweep you of your feet,
be her a Capuleti or a maid.
Will's name, like Juliet's, can't be unmade
Let Shakespeare remain Shakespeare, I beg thee
and Danish princes be, or not to be
What use are words that fall upon deaf ears.
We've lost any ability to suade.
Impervious to agony and tears.
Who'll judge us? Not a jury of our peers.
We obfuscate, we lie and we evade.
What use are words that fall upon deaf ears.
We feed ourselves into the grinding gears
of cold, well oiled machines. We had them made.
Impervious to agony and tears.
When some get caught in their uncaring shears,
we give lip service to abet and aide.
What use are words that fall upon deaf ears.
What use are platitudes? What use are cheers?
We're proud to call it nothing but a spade.
Impervious to agony and tears.
Why, do you ask? The sum of all our fears.
Trapped, pinned and cornered, we will not be swayed.
What use are words that fall upon deaf ears.
Impervious to agony and tears.
Is that desire that's been snapped?
Or is it something a bit colder?
The answer, as you see, is trapped,
inside the eye of the beholder.
papa, don't preach
poems are
for catching the scent of a rose
and the iodine smell of waves
crashing into ancient rocks
on a crisp spring morning.
don't preach, papa,
poems are
for the brush of lips
sending tingles to your toes
and a shy look
from behind a bar room pint
taking your breath away
don't preach, please
poems are
for forbidden music
and the steady drumbeat
of seductive notes
melting your insides
don't preach, papa
I already know
it's wrong
Come, heed Mycenae, Thebes and Sparta!
Come heroes, come from near and far to
blot out the stain the lowly Trojans
dared to deliver Menelaus.
The fates are destined to obey us;
The Oracle's famed theologians
predict adventure, wealth and glory.
The stuff of myth and allegory.
Come meet the best Greece has to offer
and sail to fill both trunk and coffer.
A thousand ships will sail together
Ajax, Odysseus, Achilles.
We'll sacrifice young bulls and fillies,
and ask Poseidon for good weather
Then sail to land on Troy's white beaches.
As Priam frets over his riches.
Come be the one that slays good Hector
And if you fall, Elysian nectar
will fill you with its potent spirit
and maidens with the grace of Graces
veils do not hide their lovely faces
They'll dance for you. Death, do not fear it!
Come, share the spoils with Agamemnon.
May cowards stay, fate favors them -- none.
Cool Hand Luke shoots from the hip
words hit like a bullet
Tips the hat -- yeah, just the tip
Hat that hides the mullet
Some say he is gone for good
Robbin' hood, more likely
Mayhap just misunderstood
when he talks politely
a fan of tasty pie, am I
it's too hard to resist!
in no need of an alibi
the hosts tend to insist:
try one more piece, these are soo good
the apple baked just right
what's one more piece -- pies aren't food
they're a dessert delight!
the key lime is a favorite
pecan not far behind
a splash of whipped cream -- savor it
a sweetness so refined
there is of course, the pizza pie
not a dessert at all
glass of Chianti, can't deny
tomato for the soul
there's one though, I've not tasted yet
my humble pie uneaten
it's there all right, and not well met
and waits till I've been beaten