Flight of Ideas Read online

  Mind Body Soul

  Never have I known a combination

  Of ingredients as perfectly proportioned

  And arranged

  As if precisely picked from diverse sources

  And designed with intervention scientific and divine

  To most appeal to my nature and desire.

  Equally, she flourishes in every situation...

  Unencumbered and embracing in the darkness

  Or in bright and public places circulating...

  With a wit recounting anecdotes of entertaining point

  Or with soft whispers mapping passion’s territories...

  Talking over matters of an interest intellectual

  Or instigating mischief with a devilish elation.

  Too well calibrated to my every inclination and intention

  To be a happy accident of chemistry and luck

  Her existence is a proof of powers greater and benign

  Deserving tribute.

  Faced with her, I’m shaken by a sweet epiphany,

  Recognition without need for introspection

  That the two of us are right for one another,

  And this stands as much a certainty accepted blindly

  As the following of day by night

  And spring by summer.

  Love born fully-formed without having to be learned,

  Love increased without having to be earned,

  Love continued without effort or deceit,

  Our light love comes upon us like a guest

  So long-awaited and well-cherished

  We insist he never leave our home again.

  Selfishly

  I revel in your arms

  Giving in as if I have no shred of dignity

  Or decency

  I wallow

  And you shamelessly luxuriate

  Resisting gamely to increase

  Your sinful measure.

  So full up

  We both abandon all that we have been

  And every one,

  And every inhibition flown

  Up to our elbows we would plunge

  Up to our shoulders

  Into one another

  If we could.

  You have but to ask and I

  With smile shall renounce

  All that has made my life until your sweet arrival

  Fit to live

  And so much more I will betray

  I swear

  For we must be the first to love this way

  In all of time and human rules do not apply

  To us.

  Our world began again when first we met

  Its laws and definitions ours to name.

  And all along we know

  We’ve known

  We have no other choice

  And we succumb.

  Denied one day

  When we thus starved blind resume

  Our project

  Fair words fail

  And light touches,

  Rather we with hearts full-flower

  Bare and baring teeth

  Collide

  As if denied one month one year one life

  Collide

  As if our souls like breaking waves

  Collide

  As if our souls

  Like waves

  Could smash apart the shoals between them

  Thunder one into another

  And thus fuse with violent currents into

  Something human hands could no more split

  Than they could pull apart the sea.

  *****

  All Volunteers

  Hysterical you know what he’s doin’,

  Out of control I just turned around

  That one time superglue

  We were standing there...

  She’s been back, she’ll be down,

  I’m getting worse...

  There goes one I’ll tell ya’...

  Must’ve put some time into it,

  Talk to him, you got a couple people.

  Nostalgia...it’s too cold in there...

  Halloween another guy, three people

  Out in the parking lot later

  He just sat there and stared...

  There’s been a big one last couple a’ years

  They hopped up outta’ there

  Stuff like that he’s actually wondering

  Aimlessly...whatever.

  Asked me how they’re doing french fries

  I’ll take care of it night shift

  Down at the hospital.

  He just went out and got it

  When you least expect it

  About a week later fictitious name...

  Missing people.

  You might wanna’ keep her in mind

  She busted out laughin’ I had her good...

  Half hour of total bullshit like Joe had

  They shield him from negative stuff,

  He’s to the point now and that’s exactly why.

  I was too dumb to realize good late night

  Just shake my head not these two guys

  Harassing me...questions after hours over

  Picnic...sad Look what’s this red mark?

  Unfriendly in the parking lot of course yeah,

  These kids blame it on me good time sad Look.

  The only way to go I’m sorry...

  Fifty three a night work in that night before

  Really okay walk in there made you mad

  sad Look both times our place real

  Nasty he had checkbook

  Two bucks a sale instead of adding three numbers

  In the bag in the end sad Look.

  *****

  The Watchdog

  In a corner,

  He looks at his Timex,

  Yapping, punctually,

  “Three o’clock and all is well!”

  “Six o’clock and all is well!”

  “Eight o’clock and all is well!”

  In the shadows,

  Like a stoic, furry hydrant

  He sits,

  On hind legs

  That are coiled tighter

  Than the springs in his ticking

  Timepiece.

  “Ten o’clock and all is well!”

  There is easy power

  In his chiseled snout,

  Strength

  That is barely restrained

  As he barks out the time

  Through wolfy canines.

  “Eleven o’clock and all is well!”

  He waits

  In the Hades darkness

  Like Cerberus twice-amputated,

  Checking the clock

  On his puppy wrist;

  He

  Is the watchdog.

  *****

  Ode on a Stink Bug

  Dear gray friend so triangular

  So rough-shelled

  So everywhere,

  Climbing my siding my

  Plaster my drapes,

  Big as a cockroach, always catching my eye

  With that moment of fear,

  Following me every place I go

  Whether home or hotel or restaurant,

  Always willing to take aim and

  Fly boldly straight for my face,

  Wings buzzing like neon in the night,

  Making me turn and look just in time

  To get your punch right in the kisser,

  But maybe that’s the whole idea.

  Maybe you love me,

  Just want to be near me,

  Don’t want to be squished and flushed,

  Giving up that last rancid puff of your stink bug

  Perfume.

  *****

  Philosophers

  “Fore squirt and several beers ago,”

  Recited Booth, sitting petulantly on a rock.

  “Hour fathers bought fork

  On this compliment a nude nation...”

  He continued, crispy tongue clicking

  And gritty, woolly like
the play beard

  Stuck on lopsy with stiff gum.

  “...and predicated to the preposition

  that awl men ark related eagles...”

  He spread his arms again

  And motioned again,

  And pointed again, for emphasis.

  “Their is nothing two here

  Butt here itself,”

  Chimed Oswald, spinning the barrel again.

  “Their is nothing two here...”

  “...Butt here itself,” croaked Ruby,

  Pulling the trigger again.

  “Their is nothing two here...”

  Click. They continued in chorus.

  “...Butt here itself.”

  Oswald spun the barrel again, sweating.

  “Eye half a dream,”

  Groaned Ray, black skin chappy

  And puckered, huge lips dry and sagging.

  “Eye half a dream,

  Eye half a dream...”

  “Imagine owl the peephole,”

  Droned Chapman.

  “Sharing owl the whirled.

  Imagine owl the peephole,”

  He whispered, understanding again,

  “Sharing owl the whirled.”

  Two Sikhs and a Hindu

  Just stood and cried,

  Siamese at the waist

  As their Mahatma prophesied.

  Together they chanted, in the fog,

  Again and again:

  “Fore squirt and several beers...”

  “Their is nothing two here...”

  “Eye half a...”

  “Imagine owl the...”

  “...hour fathers...”

  “...butt here...”

  “...dream...”

  “...peephole sharing...”

  “...bought fork...”

  “...itself...”

  “All ewe knead is...”

  “...dream...”

  “...Fore squirt...”

  “...love, All ewe knead...”

  “...several beers...”

  “...here...”

  “...is love...”

  As he listened,

  The maestro sneered,

  Kept time with a clop

  And laughed at the silly boys.

  He shook his head

  And laughed some more,

  Then mumbled, under his breath:

  “Hour father who ark in heaven...”

  “Hour father...”

  *****

  Terrastalsis

  Fundamental flames squirging from the core

  Inundate complacent ledges,

  Spewing up the digested contents

  Of millions of geo-lithic years.

  Ash ejaculates upward,

  Violating the virgin stratosphere,

  Compressed, depressed, repressed,

  A stagnant passion of the earth

  Stored up over eons.

  Dust clouds hang in the sky,

  Defecated in defiance of gravity.

  Boiling lava oozes redly,

  A protoplasmic mucus de-fathomed at last;

  Gasses hiss and fume from anal craters

  While chunky sprays of dust and rubble

  Geyser up from sudden pocks in the crust.

  Everywhere, a barren, fecal smoke

  Fills the air with the ash-rancid stench of centuries.

  The land grunts mightily,

  Heaving, exploding, shuddering, spewing,

  Hunching its spiny crust

  In an ancient, familiar tableau

  That erupts from the bowels of the earth.

  *****

  Think Again(st)

  When I recall! (that happy night)

  With leafy Arabs flapping o ver

  The? sacred? scribblings?!?

  of Darwin, (and won thing is certain,

  with respect, all due, two that

  majestic scientist with the

  monkey on his back),

  I shudder (painlessly)

  e.g. shake uncontrollably, shiver,

  At the opportunities lossed,

  The chances mist,

  The shear hordes of money they offered,

  i.e. gave freely, presented to.

  Their was regal china galore,

  Sitting in piles on the sand,

  Weighting to be broken;

  There wuz gold and silver (!!!)

  Displayed -- or, rather, flaunted -- on

  heavy pedestals;

  And!!...

  You guest it:

  Gorgeous women (!!!) mine for the

  Asking.

  Oh!, “they said,” This is grate!! At last,

  “and at this, they snickered,”

  we have something to read our flappy Arab children

  before bed!! (But I(!!) knew? better,

  having had flappy Arab children my self,

  Two posthumous mentals who

  destroyed my home and embargoed the

  gasoline in my car!!) (and lawn mower, and chainsaw,

  and motorcycle)...

  Then, the coup de grace...

  While cooking supper, a slippery leafy Arab

  Asked me what? I was hungry four;

  Oh, “I tolled him,” Maybe a nice steak or a prime rib.

  Allah be praised!, “he shouted,

  i.e. raised his voice, yelled,”

  Blasphemer! Satanic beef-eater! May you rock in Hell!

  Twas then I realized, while puking my Arab tea,

  That these leafy Arabs were...

  And this was quite a shock...

  Leafy Hindus described as Arabs (wow!!!),

  touting there sacred cows among the bloody steakhouses

  of my native land.

  Great balls o’ fire, “I stuttered, glimpsing my plight,”

  I meant to say, and quote me on this,

  ‘I’m hungry for a nice, juicy salad.’

  No beef for me, no sir (or madam, descending on

  your gender.)

  Butt it was two late.

  As one, the leafy Hindus cast off there

  Arab robes and came at me with braised clubs!!!

  What a pickle, I screamed over the

  cool night sands of the fake Hindu desert,

  (in truth, a cleverly disguised sandbox

  with illusory backdrops that fooled the

  trained I.)

  I kicked sand in their faces,

  a comic book bully maiming a scrawny Charles Atlas

  (befour his super guaranteed mussels in fifty

  daze or your money back weight program) (of coarse).

  Then, a thought struck me!!! (or did it?)

  Why knot disguise myself as a Persian rug,

  so the leafy Hindus would not call me on the carpet?

  At once, I through myself on the floor

  and spread myself as flat as possible!

  The leafy Hindus couldn’t find me!

  They walked around and searched (desperately)

  and even walked on top of me (!!!!)

  Butt Eye was safe.

  The moral of the story

  (witch I realized after escaping from the Hindus

  by disgusing myself as a ship and

  sailing across the Mediterranean C,)

  is this:

  Never go to India if you work in a steakhouse.

  The (and I ewes the term lucy) end.

  *****

  Knot Another Avalunch

  Speak two me knot

  Of the grate avalunch,

  That spattering candyclysm,

  Horrible knightmarry...

  O woe beside those humping, toiling buystanders

  And pillagers cot unawear --

  Many undressed even, or worse,

  Totemly bunk naked (imagine that!) --

  Those simple, decapitated pheasants

  And hard-walking farters

  Growing coughie beanies, toboggan for cigarresteds,

  Watermuffin, crabbage, green lepers,


  Homily gristle, cuecrumble, origami spice

  And lots plenty more, especially crash crops

  Like fast food grown in speeding sportscars;

  Awl this valuable angryculture thrived

  Lustily in the scalding, bronchial valley

  Wrestled smugly inn the shadows of

  Towelling Mount St. Helicopter --

  That lofty, cranky peekaboo

  Christianed after gusty, cockeyed St. Helicopter

  Himsell -- patron angel of whirlybirds,

  Who disgruntled the hefty hilltop

  Bye boldly and pioneeringly

  Crunching his plain against it.

  (Oh woe! Let’s us paws two bough hour

  Headlights in solvent mediation. Poor sop!)

  And sew, in point of factory,

  Four yore inflammatory, (Pardon the expulsion)

  This hoppy farting community

  Went above there own business,

  Minded it, two (four watt it’s worthy),

  Slinging the mary worming songs,

  Groaning wild fields and garments of cops,

  Behating like abnormal rural folk anywear.

  (And hear, wee could bee wrong, basting hour stormy,

  As it is, on congestion and interpolation)

  Then, unexpectantly, like a bolt out of the bluefish,

  A chrysler erupted --

  That’s write, a disastrous of mastiff contortions!

  Oust of noware (seamingly)

  Plummented grillions of tonnage of powderful,

  Ploverizing white stuff, an inedibly hugelike

  Waive erasing inexhortably rampant

  (i.e. reel fast, like a boot out of hell)

  Down the steve sloops and slummit of spectangular

  Mouth St. Heloise (egad!) (double egad!!) (whoops-a-daisy!) --

  Just a horribull, stammering wall of whitey,

  Rumpling and thuddering down that mountainous

  And consumering everythink inn its weigh.

  They couldn’t knot rarely bereave it, awl those farter folk

  (And lots more still canvas get themsellers

  Two realign that it truly hairpinned)

  (Those lots more were of coarse knot bored yet),

  Butt their it grumbled, the mitey wight deluge

  They had alweighs treaded --

  The heap of mayonnaise on topple of the mounty

  Had feistily shaken loose, and noun, of all thing,

  That darn avalunch was abound too

  Mascara there farts and fillage!