Punctuate the Positive

Bleak lands call the hours to pasture
Creeping fungus gets involved in every
Crucial crevice and holds court in the time
It takes to look back

Even I send off this thought under the office
Of very low light in the land of unlimited
Electricity is at a premium
When these flood waters surge

Beauty is STILL
Everything & everything that is
Will & can be what is
Beauty does not dwindle
Even though it crumbles

I'd like, one day, to wake
& truthfully bake
A wonderful creamy cake
Which'd have the power to slake
Even the most cruel cunning
Of the king of the world's stake
& banish all the human fake
In apocalyptic trenches of a worldwide
Cheesequake!

Silly. I know
And seen has been believed
For the mind & soul of the creatures
Presumption in this paradigm of Me Time
Where the moments totter off
'Round mountain-sized stacks of products
& truth being held out of sight
While the keys to the pantry
Are passed off to the paltry
Rascals!
Varmits!
& their various offspring

pmpope ~ 2011

Hee-Hee-Haw-Haw!

Pulling up to the red light
in a non-descript sprawlburb
I notice a man sitting at the corner
With a bucket & a squeegee.
He runs up to cars & offers to wash
Their windshields so they can see
Where they are going
And all the marvelous things
God has prepared for them in this
Journey of life where only the smart
& the strong are necessary to carry on.
'What a good man.' I think to myself
With a slight brush of my hand
I acknowledge the wallet
Resting plump against my chest
In this wallet
Are picture of my family,
My reason to be
& also plastic cards
They equal so many pictures
Of dead presidents.
I think: 'It's a good job & tax-free to boot.'
The man spins his sign
In some hispanic language it says
Something about: God Bless You!
I think: He is loved by God
What good is my money
To him?

Pmpope 2011

Twitching

This is a time to consult the rumbles of the stomach.
Night has come and gone again...
All the clever realisticles have melted
In an epileptic puddle as the last lightning bolts
Picked up all their toys
Returning to the trailer park caverns
From whence they erupted
Not as long ago. Has another stooped to find
Has something the matter been?
Has birds their fearts boiled
Dropping into the gear housings
Of mud cakes with the right certification
Lovely? Where have you offed yourself to?
Just yesterday, (was it not?), with dreams as technicolor
As cotton-candy on a Ferris Wheel
And now, here, today....
Only steel grey clouds masking the moon.