I’ve discovered what I love in life,
In these moments, frozen in time
I sit in amazement
That I am here
That the pages of my life,
Unfold so clear.
This is my life,
It’s part dramedy
/documentary.
It’s inspiring, it’s thriving
It’s thrilling, it’s chilling
It’s rated G for grand,
But should be rated F for Fulfilling!
I like to build things
With my hands,
I like to take photographs
Of cracks in pavement sands,
For they often give me messages,
Into the other side’s presages
Where the angels lurk, always at work
Perched at my side.
A humble ride.
The tight rope
Between what is real
and
What is dope?
An ongoing juxtapose,
Of paradoxical woes,
That leave me teetering on my tippy toes.
Loubou-TAAN
Anti-aging goop for the fawn
Fears of mediocrity,
With a loathing of hypocrisy
Obsessions stinted in doubt and disbelief
Shrouded over a perfect incomplete fete
(this is where I loose all sleep!!!)
Ted, to tie my knots
Blake, to cross the “t’s and I the Dots.
Kaz, to lady friend.
Tom, to inspire by design
Mom, to unleash and unwind.
Bren, to play dress up and pretend
M, a Holiday that will never end.
Underneath a vast great tree,
In Buenos Aires,
Near the grave of she
I’d love to pitch my perch
And write poetry that nobody seems
It’s worth.
Or Play;
Bobby-Poppins, perhaps
Taking care of little children
With chic little hats;
Made by my hands,
With spoons full a' nutella
Peanut butter drizzle,
Under my umbrella.
Where nobody eats meat.
Where bugs stay where they belong,
things are tidy and neat,
and fragrance is never wrong.
Where hunger is not a thought,
Where nobody knows love, that’s not been for fought.
This is where the lack line is drawn,
For once you know
Wisdom,
It can not be wrong.
(Not that I know, be it as it may
I’m looking though, on my way)
This is my auto
Written wright now.
Graphed, Nine-Twenty-Nine
January of Wow.
