ASSAD

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JUST BECAUSE
                              He's mild mannered...


JUST BECAUSE
                              He's a natty dresser...


JUST BECAUSE
                            He's a doctor...


JUST BECAUSE
                            He's not a short little guy...


JUST BECAUSE
                           He doesn't comb his hair to one side...


JUST BECAUSE
                            He doesn't have that same funny looking mustache...


                         .
JUST BECAUSE
                            He wouldn't ordinarily strike you as a  madman...


JUST BECAUSE
                            THE WORLD ISN'T DOING A DAMN THING ABOUT HIM...

TIME GOES BY FOR NO GOOD REASON

d'Verse Poets Pub   Poetry Potluck

You, my fantasy island
by the seashore,
by the madness.
You're not from around here--
the planet, I mean. 


You, the mystery of mythic proportions--
like trying to decipher the lyrics to "Chasing Pavements."


You call to me on a super high frequency
that only dogs and angels can hear,
and I hasten to your side
just to let you take me for a ride.
And yes, cowboys do still exist,
but you've decided to give in to me
only on certain patriotic holidays and February 29th.


And you think of compromise
the way a field of daisies is compromised
by a free-standing outhouse--
our conversations a verbal game of paddle ball. 
If I hold your comments to the light
will I see a validating watermark?


And what kind of woman sees that I am falling for her, 
and all she can do is stand back and yell TIMBERRRR???
Yes, I am easy to manipulate--blindly optimistic,
as when Noah said: Yes, but we could sure use the rain.
The hapless grin that indicates an alarming loss of brain cells.


But there are penalties for scofflaws like you
who break the rules of love while smiling so sweetly.
Ooh...don't kiss me now...
who knows where those lips have been?


Sooner or later we must choose
to embrace life, or hold it at arms length,
now and then giving into wild abandon. 
But you say if we dance naked in the rain
who will do our choreography?


Romance is poetry
not ambiguity...
one day the heavens will part
and love will prevail...


May I have this samba?

Shadow Shot Sunday

Shadow Shot Sunday 2

Shadow  Shot  Sunday 2

ONE NIGHT IN THE RAIN

it was warm inside the pub                                                     

a girl was making a fire

people were stamping their feet                                                                                      

all I could see was a swirling grey mist

we can't walk home
she said
the storm is still raging
a sort of gypsy looking woman
who always wore the same puke-green pea coat
she was adamant 

almost aggressive
she expected me to make a decision
but you can't sleep with things like that


she left alone that night
so I didn't get to her before she died
but it set me to thinking
after she'd gone
that no one I'd ever made love to
had croaked yet
far as I knew
still living their lives
with some nameless face
                             

or faceless name

still
 they're dead to me


i stepped into the misty haze


i turned to see Noah's Ark
standing in my path...
extending me safe harbor?


it is a crime to take your own life
and sometimes a tragedy not to 
bad manners to joke about a thing like that


i turned away from the vision
i lifted my face to the sky
blue lights flickered from overhead wires
i knew that it was dangerous
i closed my eyes
the best kind of oblivion
i saw the sunrise and the sea
i tasted the rain
i saw the passage of all my empty days
i almost forgot that i was running




Author Note: One Night In The Rain is not derived from any actual incident. The narrator is a character. But as every writer knows, there is a little of ourselves in each of our characters. . 


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WASTED

Poetry Potluckd'Verse Poets Pub

The greatest love of all

                Her voice soared to the heights

is easy to achieve

          Her mind plummeted to the depths

Learning to love yourself

               And in between--the wasteland

is the greatest love of all...

EXTORTION

Funny  Bunny Fridays

the goddam cat

pissed on my pillow

'cause I wouldn't give him

an extra tablespoon of

his favorite canned food

I was trying to draw the line

because I was typing in a poem

and he walked across the keyboard

three times

and then SAT on it

like he always does

he knows I can't get anything done

till I get up and feed 

his obsession

don't know what happened

to that other poem

after I lost my train of thought

so instead you've got this one

thank the little pisser for that

cunningest cat I ever seen...

and one of the fattest

I gotta do some laundry 

WHAT WON'T THEY THINK OF NEXT?

Funny Bunny Fridays                                                               d'Verse Poets Pub                             photo by Timoteo

the mobile psychiatrist
comes to you...
lie down in the back of the van