Make it stand out.

Sunday, September 29, 2019Sleep and sex.Sex and sleep. Don’t go to a show to peep. ***Violent thoughts still intrude in my brain Sometimes when I’m happy but want more selfish gain. Gain and glory. A sorry mix Fix my old thought habits Rabbits out the hat An at bat in a cave, wired weird ideas Be not a space-slave. Behave. ***Are these really my words?Were they whispered to me by tiny little birds?Absurd?Who knows from whence art arises. It is always full of surprises. ***A bizarre car drove slowly through a bazaar in Zanzibar. It didn’t go far on the overheated tar. People were taken aback. Past attacks caused tensions not slack. This time all was well.Fear so thick, as if it you could it smell. Saturday, September 28, 2019I did my best which wasn’t good enough.In many ways it should have been the perfect job. I couldn’t cobble or refine my skills; it was rough.Too late... enough!But wait!To be the star, the beloved, well-trained teacher, I couldn’t learn to hang tough, couldn’t control my anger or pain. I burned bridges with endless mistakes. Still, I became who I became. While now not drumming, humming tunes or Playing bassoon, I am lucky to still be becoming. ***More my Pygmalion complex Than a desire for hot sex. She’s not my daughterNot my wife Not my friend with or without benefits Call it quits before it gets out of hand Out of mindYoung woman who I findSo appealing, so gentle, so kind. ***A happy, relaxing birthday break In old New York we did take. In Little Italty, we had lunchNext year, my hunch will be even more Relaxing, less of a crunch. ****A happy birthday to my dear sister,My wife’s sister-in-lawOur son’s aunt. Can’t forget the present in the present Though I almost did Then through dinner I would have hid. ***He emerged from da room Pretty well groomed. ***Amy took me for a yummy birthday brunch More of a lunch and a walk so we could talk of this and that including a puffi with a cat. ***Stockholm syndrome doesn’t make you stronger, only weaker with an ever bleaker take. Makes you crave the safety of being alone in bed but sneaks into your head. You might wish to be led to a redolent future free from suffering buffering the bad. Live a life a tad more glad. ***Second campaign slogan:He’s a coward and a criminal A con man overly insecure, overly proud With messages loud The potent anti-Christ POTUSGrotesque criminal Divider of our nation To ever lower stations Increasing our vulnerability to strainsOf virus added to his escalating of many a racial tensionDid o mention This clownish corona crowned criminal also Employs dog-whistles subliminal?***Dog whistles screaming Viral videos streaming. Minimizing the goodMaximizing the bad All he can do is tweet:“...Sad.”***Which witch hunt?To be honest, to be blunt,Rudy starting to accuse members of Ukraine government to be enemies of the present blighted resident of the house formerly white. ***It may not be true. Some say the glueFalls off, the beard no longer grew If not petted twice a day for fun and play. If trueThe glue does go.Know the falling beard, with no true glueWhat should you do?***Mercurial whimsyNot only not flimsy But with an iron clad core him speak to herHurricanes off MaineCategory Five Few found alive.Hey here’s a great idea.Send nuclear bombs to break them up.After all they start in Africa If he weren’t such a menace to the worldHe’d be funny. But he’s still running. ***I’m new and improvedIn a better, lighter groovy groveWith a trove of treasures Needing no un-merry envious measure. ***Paul Krugman has the brains. I’ll write the catchy refrains. ***Where lilacs once grew,were there blueberries too?Raspberries grew old, full of mold. In the closet, in the Cunard club’s clubhouse cupboard were discovered multiple boxes of multigrain moist, maize crackers, Real lip-smackers. ***Compared to years past at least, at long last I fast climb a healthier treeThe new lighter-face of me.***I’m more positive More confident Now translating:Greater, more consistent competence.***Ogden NashWas a funny, brilliant inspiring manEternally, preternaturally Actually past death, restNot rash with his dash of wit To wit his insightful might is writ largeGentle not barging into bar, bath or barge. He left a wider world enlightened by his Generative gifts. ThisGives me a lift not an UberRemove her.Her, who her?Laura who blurs truth in the name ofFalse god, a wink and a nod to people’s Worst instincts. Concurring with Tucker Takes us for suckers Continual collusion stinksFox has locks and links on people’s brains. Being opportunistic With no trace of dignified wisdom solipsistic They may cease and refrain if political winds change. ***I wish Andy a speedy recoveryThough candy might come in handyAndy has a diet more pure. At which store does she shop?Stop now. Have some sort of breakfast somehow. ***He makes fun of smart, noble Adam Schiff. He extols macho men while walking off a cliff. He loves Putin and little rocket man, he has a metrosexual VP and brags about his sexual conquests, of course some were a little on the young side. Did he prescribe Jeffrey’s death?Was it another cover-up at his request? He doth protest too loudly that he loves big burly coal miners who are too macho to learn new skills. Rudy dressed in drag, dumpf kissed his breasts, out West? Maybe he’ll have an orgy eating nachos in the nude. Maybe he’s really gay. His base would have a field-day.  ***Election slogan:Short on reason Long on treason Dump trump***He dumps his own offenses On innocents through lenses charismatically evil stirring upheaval as cover for serving Putin and pocketbook. ***He’s a smiling bully-gangster, rotten to the coreHis base loves him more.Bill Barr is a henchman galore.So is Rudy.Does he share the booty?Could he be put in jailFor inane rants and rails?Aiding and abetting treasonous National queasiness?More important to get dumpf’s ill-gotten rotten Rottenness to reverse the bottomless damages he has done Since he illegally the election won. ***Even in Salt Lake CityI could be pretty witty. ***The little purple turtle-monster with the fluffy bright blue beard Feared during the day. He feared at night. His plight, different had he known FDR. He would have Ioved to have driven a bus or even a little car. Friday, September 27, 2019Stop writing. Fighting to sleep post tired. I’m still wired. ***Lisa, Lisa, poor lonely, lovely, gentle, passionate, artistic, sensitive, successful Lisa. I hope she is kind to herself, not let people tease her. She made-out with a friend. Hearing these women talk sends me. There are three...Chantal may have dated a much older guy. Why?Could I find a young chickWho could do the snake charmer’s trickWith my wizened wick?Does Deb have a crush on Lisa too?Boo who. Who me?She blew you?True Deb talks about giving head. Did she ever wed?Should she try meds?Perhaps what is most attractive is Lisa’s openness, vulnerability, honesty, gentle good humor. No rumors. I want to comfort her. Blur the line?Not this time.Play playfully with Chantal’s frontal and back. No lack of fantasies here. I suspect she’s a little thin in the rear. Deb is pretty and sexy. A starving man’s fantasy dyslexic Not dyspeptic. A peptic ulcer of too much and yet none at all. Writing is a safe sex ball with consequences small or nonexistent. I meant, not much of a poem. Seven thirty. A bit dirty. Time to go home. ***Jesse hardly talks Then he walks for a cigarette break That’s my take. My guess?He’ll confess to thinking deep. Deeply with people he knows. He goes to AA. Hurray! ***Ann Bancroft Talented and lucky, career aloft-Ira coughed.Doffed his hatThat’s an approach not too softWaded and offed to distant deeper internal hills, such psychological thrills For which he hardly billsNil is nothing at which to scoff To keep her career aloft, Ann BancroftDid oft act, but off stage she was not inappropriately soft Clear, this insight now that I’m on Zoloft. 

Thursday, September 26, 2019

***I’ve started

parted from being house- and snow-bound

Found hounds on the street with their owners I did greet.

Ran two sets of thirty seconds, neat. On my own two feet,

Walked a mile

I smile. 

Wednesday, September 25, 2019I’m writing my fifth symphony. How dare I?Compare why? ***The discipline of a dedicated military man Is something I can muster. I can. ***So I’m still under the illusion despite much evidence to the contrary that I’m perfect.Select any blunder shattering that false mask An effortless task I’ve learned so well Easy to tell, intrusive memories of past failures Hail like hailstones thrown into a pond Where once we grew fond. We fondly remember the view, til algae grew on that lovely pond. ***New So now that I know Go change!Expecting myself to do that instant changeWould be part and parcel of my unrealistic perfectionist behavior- not unusual but still pretty strange. It keeps me from learning While yearning to be immediately great and grand.Where I land is neither the bottom nor top Not in a better band but bound by a band in back of the busI distort and fuss feeling like a flop...So stop. ***Might help to get some perspective. That’s a choice elective. Like using the courage and resilience of My fictional psychiatrist heroDon’t be a zero like Nero. While roaming, he earns, while I fiddle with Piddling pithy trifles Denial of sore eyefuls. ***So now what do I do?Have you too felt this nip at the neck?Heck, get a grip. Take a trip. Not on acid, don’t be flip. Let it rip!***I’ve come to prefer (Easy to concur)A brief little rhyme In times former I would climb into a ditch intellectual Only sometimes effectual. ****Lots of little poems Lots of words. Gnomes don’t eat fish Or for much of anything do they wish. ***What?!I expect to always win?Drinking too much gin?A tonic at the Philharmonic Sonic booms splendorous Splenda, a fake sweet commodious. Send her my wayUnless she’s totally gay. Hey, she still might like to play a harp or flute or toot A tug on a bassoon’s joint boot. ***Can I give it a rest?That would be best!***The futures may not lie, they may mislead If indeed that’s the only metric you useThen you are sure to lose. ***Where was my brain?In the main it was on hold. Getting old is not the issue. Wish you were here, Shed a tear into my beer. ***I was so wrong to sell at a loss Just when I thought I was boss. A few hours later it was back in green.I mean how could you know?So where is my judgement?Where is my skill?To stop obsessing; take a pill. ****I could torture myself over bad trades. Instead I’ll give myself accolades For many good decisions.Derision sets me back. A lack of resilience, courage Can be addressed without rage. No need to be a sage or know the next step. I’ll prep by allowing space to not know Hopped up, inflated or deflated all the same Tame my fear Wait a while in the rear. I am ok, not defined by success or career. ***West PointRigorous training Self control Discipline Service Real men Marine fitTo wit Without drums, bombs or balmI’m not calm. ***I feel so angry Speedy tooMy actions don’t show itRelax, allow, observe. I deserve to serve up a feast. Let the beast calm and snooze. No need for booze. ***What do I want from this session?Less digressionLess aggression Less procrastination Less fascination with my navy blue navel In a cave I’ll cavil calling my cavalryEating celery stalks and carrots in the snow To my subconscious I’ll go below deckWhat the heck!****Eating spaghetti in the Serengeti Not to get pettyIs as likely an outcome From my pen will sprout anOpera of great worth To whatever I give birth My ego, I’ll give wide berth. Tuesday, September 24, 2019Desperate for contact socialContext for contact?Contact as a matter of fact Be social locally vocal with a basilica of bassoons. Read ancient runes and glyphs. I’m miffed, embarrassed that all I was was a fuzzy wuzzy almost has-been bassooning tunesmith With tea leaves read Heed my fortune told. Be bold, face the world. Face the music, painful words. Let the rain full torrents of torturing past with birds, fly to another last. A blast of social not with bocal on English horn This morn Media is not my thing. Drama in the West Wing is how Beth and I relate of late. Why so late to rise?Don’t despise my attempts, my tries to relax Better to put on slacks. No panic attacks, no deathly gloom. Let my curiosity bloom.  

Monday, September 23, 2019

Studying Dickens in a karol,

Sharél Chárel sang no carols. 

Not Christmas but in good cheer when she got in gear, out of her gloom the room lightened. Then brightening, heightening Her pleasant enough chat till in the last two at-bats she put me down -in barbed jest-twice.Thrice I thought enough is enough but didn’t call her bluff nor do I plan to confront. Neither front, side nor center I’ll self-mentor, not let or invite on Friday nights, her venting spleen.I mean it’s readily seen in between my observations keen. What I want, what I seek is simply to be less meek — that and not offend.. 

***Sometimes she condescends. Sometimes she makes amends. The trick is to learn how to keep my keep. So in these difficulties I’m not knee deep. ****It might just be my over-sensitivity.Could be my proclivity to let people talk To me in ways disrespectful, I balk At walking the walk with a stick bigAnd talk soft. ***Discombobulated by Beth Bless the best bountifully beautiful!Bot hot horticultural blotted rot...but...Not all the time.More quickly pulling myself out of slime Grimy Grammies gained granny glasses Worn by young lovely lasses. What?! That’s a non sequitur?Are you sure?***Lots of composing today. Six hours plus, no stopping for meals, no fuss. A drop of exercise, cleaning, Italian and Spanish and French. No wench did make me a mensch  On a bench, headlines read.Much better than staying in bed. ***Beth kissed me lightly, lovingly. She pets my beard. Zoloft must be making me less weird. Sunday, September 22, 2019***Do I have any feeling?My mind is reeling. I’ve been gas-lit So many times it takes grit Get emotionally fit. ***Time I’m desperately seeking an audience. Applauds in tents, sense and sensual sensibility not in nineteenth century England but now in my own time, in my own land. Give me a hand not a handout Listen to my words whispered. Don’t  shout. ***If only I had confidence in my poemsIf I had confidence in my storiesConfidence in my compositions Confidence in potency. Confidence. I am confident. I am a pretty good trader. I like to compose. It’s what I chose. ***Marketing Slogan:Zoloft: better to be sleepier than creepier. ***Is our country ready to resume a reasonable path?Our great leader has taken our farmers for a ruinous bath. ***On trumped up chargesHe enlarges on his victimized theme. Repeat and scream:The opposition deserves the electric chair. I dare do what I want, legal? Who cares?Republicans say, “Sounds fair.”***He supports racism In not so subtle ways His base gives him a crowbar to jimmy open the cracks in his constant attacks on what is right and moral.At the Doral does he pals with dictators and whores?Snores the latter, scatter and cover up the former. FBI, CIA he denigrates, trusting Putin who’s got something toot-in, up his sleeve to use dumpf to bring America down. Yes this clever, Boris-like clownSurrounds himself with evil suck-up toadsWho blindly walk down his destructive roadWith clever word plays of conspiracy theoriesFor a non-thinking guy he sure tries to promulgate lots of theories. Oh, I forgot it was supposed to be a Netflix series. ***To Paraphrase Mr. GoreOur current leader has in store More of the same insane denials- you don’t have to be a sleuth. It’s not that dumpf is long in the tooth.He’s not on friendly terms with truth and is in this and all seasons Well past reason. ***I could go negative. Would that be relatively relative?That would be my prerogative, ablative. A case of sorts for all sorts of grammatical warts. ***Out of the house!Soon to meet spouse and son. Could be fun. They’ll tell me about the movie. Could be groovy. ***So I did make it out the door. Inspired by President Gore. He brings to the fore a relatable decency A seriousness of purpose that can undo the evil of recently. ***Well I didn’t make it out the doorThat’s for sure. It’s not too late to switch my bait Increase my gait Choose a different fate. ***All I want is sex.Maybe a Becks, sans alcohol. No, that’s not all. Money, fame, respect, adulationArtistic depth, more appropriate education. Health, power, strength, agility, Most of all to think clearly consistently with that good old agility. Agility, agility that’s the turn of phrase. A ways to go?Will it be...Will it be my longed for ability?And what of humility?***Why all of a sudden so prissy-fuddled?Be knighted not benighted, not befuddled, huddled, though perhaps cuddled. Overly coddled, modeled on morsels, we petty mortals. Movies about kings’ things and queens and godsBetter than hardly novel navel nods to my belly’s navel.Kellyanne lies with abandon. No her lover isn’t Brandon. Her hubby sees through her but doesn’t separate. Must be great.A great life I have too, so why suddenly down?Downton Abby might from my bed of gloom lift my crown. ****Stuck in bed past noon. Sing a different tune. Soon it will be nightTry as I mightAll the dark will have engulfed the light. ***Boredom shows up more and more Sure seems like it’s time to do something motivational, like getting out the door. ***Red flags ignited then ignored Just because I’m bored?Saturday, September 21, 2019Music is no longer my muse. I blew that fuse. Oh what a bore, having heard all this before. Go take a snooze. ***Except that’s it not true of this latest piece.Cease, come to the fore.Fold the score into a crease. Surcease.Put it into a valise.  Don’t make this fun into a beast. At least Don’t stare too hard. Don’t beg the Bard. Don’t pretend you’re a hero from Greece. Seek not the Golden Fleece. ***Lisa, Lisa, Lisa!Did you learn Italian in Pisa?French in France?Do you dance with your ex?Send him texts?My latest crush.I blush at this mush. ***Your lips so inviting. I’m biting my tongue. You’re too young. Are your hips hungry?I’m not well enough hung. Such blips on my radar. On the tips of my song sung!By far I’m wrung, wrinkled and nuts. No ifs and or butts. ****Your golden hairYour locks have a lock on my mind’s eye Try to block it, knock it out Of consciousness bound Around your finger, I could be strung and wound. ***Too, too true you’re too youngAmong my many shortcoming faults I don’t even drive a Renault. Why can’t I love appropriately More sedately At least lately?****Is my sanity at stake?Fake a feeling pretending to be a rake?***Is it your lovely dark eyes, your refined manner,Your warm, friendly smiles, your youthful exuberance which cause my addled protuberance?***There was coldness in her eyes. I supplied my own confidence not backing down She warmed up, coming round. ***I feared Beth’s response to cleaning needed for repair of our phone. My fear overblown. ****Again I give power away, allow, invite myself to be the butt of jokes. dumpf would say this is a fake-news hoax. ***He was asked what do you think of hermaphrodites?“We’ll see,” ze said. Check with Pence. Indispensable on matters such as these. Wait! Freeze!My brilliant, stable genius of a mind Has just the kind of answer to find The base’s basest barstool cool To get me out of this bind. They vote blue, it’s true soHermaphrodites can go fuck themselves. ***Lisa is so lovely.  All three of the women are highly desirable, smart, talented. successful, pretty, sexual, open to growing, vulnerable. Her lovely hair blowing in the breeze. There is no free cheese, except in a mousetrap. Snap out of this reverie......Oh, clever me!Friday, September 20, 2019Why so anxious?At least that shows I do have anxiety. I tried to warn Beth about the messIn our nest... it was necessary to get to the phone jack. Is our relationship in the black?I’ll think about it later, after a good snack. ****A wee bit of wit for Wednesday written Tuesday morn Awoke slightly forlorn, shorn of shock Still blockedPondering stuckness as a muddled puck in a puddle perhaps paddling unstuck involves a bit of self-generated luck, but not a run amok, a walk around the block, knock socks off shocks born in freshly shorn, forlorn woke morn preparation for a written missive sent by wren from Ken to Ken to arrive tomorrow, From Ken’s pen for when Wednesday wittily in bits and bytes We the three collected collections Poems from home. ***Music broke my heart, spit me out. I repeatedly gave up on myself even before The DOE decimated my core. Just went from bad to worse. There’s still time afore I’m in a hearse. ****I’m lost. At what cost!I’m a ghost with a post from the past. ***What needs to be done now?I’ve still got a little life left. Why so depressed?Why so down?Locked, locking myself in away from town and country, god and mice, men and women in lace,what caused this about-face?My farce inefficient, too slow my pace. No disgrace. Maybe it’s no longer being in a race.***Insufficient social contact?Act now!Sound the alarm!You too can be a proud owner of a farm with two cows brown and warm, to you will come no harm. Then you can vote for dumpfLose your farm as he loses his mind Behind the iron curtain Putin puts praise for certain. Corey LewandowskiOn the dumpf’s leash Led to impeach hiding behind An executive privilege Wasn’t dumpf’s to offer There’s a lot more in his ill-gotten coffers.