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The Ring Masters – Jon Billet

“Many coming to the circus to see the amazement of their
fantastic fantasies.”
Others may come and go, to open
the show.

Getting a laugh or two.
A Sunday way, to spend an afternoon.
Five or six thousand, to fill the tent, with a musical mix.

A foot tapping, floor stomping, elephant trotting
to the rapping rhythm.
Dancing bear was there with Captain Kangaroo,
munching on the air.

Canon shooting clowns into the above flying in midair.
Bare backed women standing on galloping stallions.
Life hasn’t a spare on which to run.

The closer we get, the farther we go.
The show knocks us off our chairs, and out of our shoes.
Calling it, the Fall’s blues.

Seven or eight, to make a date, with a lost fate.
At any rate, we all must pay.
To have a say.

Except those, who seize the day.
Or with a smile, own it all, for awhile.
It’s a matter, of the recent style.

Never found, on a clock, or speedometer dial.
But on a, radio or television, mile.
Income taxes, April deadline, to file.

While, your dropping out of school.
As teeth come out.
Marking, the preceding years of days.

In a phrase.
Who says.
What, is to be or not?

Haven’t got much.
Just live, to rot.
It will still hit a spot.

Synthetic Afternoon – Jon Billet

A light morning, turns into, a dark night.
Love, turns into art.
Stored treasures, turn into secret pleasure.
Rulers, don’t rule, they measure.
The world, is a colorful omnibus.
Travelers, don’t who or where, they are.
The answer is in a distance, quite far.
Light years, travel, to another world’s star.
Living, in a shot glass, at the local bars.
While people, arrive in glass cars.
The cars, are playing their radio’s-
rackets, noisily blasting, amplified guitars.
Three meals, take the time, to prepare, the flavor divine.
The chef, knows this, in his mind.
In heaven, slaving over a hot stove.
To hell, below, he will never show.
Yes, he is the pilot, high on an air.
In a cooking, jet airplane.
Thousands of miles above, heaven’s towering stair.
He sees the world’s burning, flame.
To him, it’s a shame.
All the same, his creation, has no name.
Only, a claim to fame, in this game.
His angry fires, to tame.
He douses, in a hurricane’s, torrential rain.
Wondering, is it sane?
Looking through, light’s, windowpane.


Hot Handle – Jon Billet

“I am a hot handle on a cold stove.”
The whole family was going to Lincoln Center, to see the “magic fruit.”

Toot, toot, flute, said the sax to the six peed my words.
Follow my lead, asked the drifter, to the flying birds?

I an A.M. P.M. said the clock to the wall.
Cuckoo bird came out one autumn’s fall.

Not tall, not there at all.
Cuckoo’s nest is giving me the call.

Heart pumps in a car rump.
Had a lump in my throat.

Cancer’s bumps.
Legs might have been on a slump, climbing the stairs.

My knee hurts.
Said the Tiffany Wannabee.

She drew me with
lonely hearts in my in my tea.

Cable art in apartment #2b.
Painting the floors and walls on my t.v.


Sad Day – Jon Billet

It’s just another summer haze.
Shadowed shade rays.

Meteorites leaves crater marks.
Lights light up parks.
Hasty blind love larks.
A tree barks.

The holy covenant.
Has no want.

Poking holes.
In sunlit, fun.
Time escapes, on the run.
It’s already been done, in poetic pun.

Idle talker speaks.
Will last ten million weeks. 
Faucet leaks.
Shooting star streaks. .

Jets fly like birds.
As the wings air swirled. 
Buffalo roamed in herds.


Sleep – Jon Billet

“Goodnight”

Vivid colors dreaming height makes a nocturnal flight.
The sleeping dead get no light.

Mr. Dollar lost all rights.
His hand, as it renders, with a stylus writing in white.

Life is contrite.
To those who have no sight.

To begin the daylight.
Makes no night.


Untitled – Alice Tsai

Even though I don’t say anything at all

I still think

feel

hurt

when you say mean things about me in front of my face

And I can’t think of anything fast enough to defend myself

And I’m not “expressive” enough

That I can come back with a quick defense

And that doesn’t mean you should walk all over me

just because you can

because I’m an easy target

Because I think

feel

hurt

And I matter to someone

something

to GOD


Untitled – Anonymous

Sometimes in the darkness
The silence turns to screams
And momentary solace
Becomes frantic, vivid dreams

Even in the daylight
I find no place to hide
Escape is an illusion
Because the demon lives inside

Emptiness and sorrow
Can suddenly revert
Almost becoming bearable
Then quickly into hurt

Emotions run unbridled
Without warning they will switch
Sporadic instability
Gaping wound without a stitch

An invisible explosion
Roaring through my soul
In the wake a psychic war zone
Lightning flashes, thunder rolls


The Condition – Anonymous

They never stood a chance.

Blood and bones and swampy eyes
They never stood a chance.

Because the tongue craves something it cannot name
And the throat chokes on sad, sad attempts
The heart prematurely pops open,
Its crimson petals falling and falling

Here, at the top,
Opposing winds build against me,
tilting, breaking

The tension pools in my back
I can feel it in the two spots
Where wings never broke through

Never lifted me from the trench
Overwhelmed by my potential,
I climbed with heavy feet.


My mind – Anonymous 

Inside my mind
You wouldn’t want to visit
You wouldn’t want to find
Inside of my mind

I don’t sleep at all at night
And even in daytime
I have nightmares
And scared of the light
You see for you don’t see
In my mind all it knows
Is fight fight fight
While mine grows

I’d like to remember when life was alright
When I wasnt up all night
But then I remember very sadly
This has been me
Always me
From as high as my knee

Inside my head
Should be dead
You don’t think of anything nice
No sugar and spice

You think of the past
And that wasn’t a blast
You think of what people have done
You think of how you lost not won

In my head
I wish it was dead
Wish I could see some light
And not be terrified day and night

For things I see
Will never be able to explain
It feels like
A thunderstorm
And all day rain

Head is hurting head is in pain
Heads been up all day and night again
Head why don’t you stop and go away please
Head please leave me alone cease

But it never goes away
And the past is not history
The past in nor the past
The past is what lasts

In my memory in my head
Lives monsters that are filled with dread
Scaring me at any cost
And reminding me of what I’ve lost

I never get a break
I don’t want to wake
I never get to weep I’m too afraid to sleep

I feel pain everyday
Of someone I used to be
I feel the sadness wipe away
And hear that word mummy

That night I’ll admit I hear everyday
And every night I pray
That tomorrow will be an easier day
But it doesn’t go away

I’ve spent my life fighting to fit in
I’ve spent my life trying to find friends
All I get is judged alot
And that’s the truth in the end

But where it used to upset me
It doesn’t anymore
Cos I know why they don’t like me
I’m different that’s why

I get so hurt being abused
But have come accustomed and immune to.being used
By everyone and everything

But this Is ME AND HERE ILL STAY
Cos this is the real me
This is me everyday
Fighting myself to be……..

ALIVE!


 

 

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