The Best Of Poetry 180 In Collection

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Rowdy Living Press
This work is a collection of the authors highest ranking poems on the site His poet label was Poetry 180. These poems ranked two hundred hits and above.

Submitted: March 08, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 08, 2017



I Am Going Back To Nosy Be


The waves there are a rising,

the wind puffs surprising,

the feelings motivating,


and away we all go.



The golden doubloons are a shining,



amid the twinkles;

winking from within the sand

just for show.



I am going back to Nosy Be,

to Nosy,

to Nosy!

I am going back to Nosy Be,

splendid paradise island in the sea.



I am going back to Nosy Be,

to Nosy,

to Nosy,

to carouse with the dames by the surging sea....,

..Oh? I don't know...!



I just sit here a dreaming,

a longing

and steaming

as I think about that heaven down by the sea.

I am going back to Nosy Be,

to Nosy,

to Nosy,

that land filled with passion and exciting posy.

I am going back to Nosy Be,

to Nosy,

to Nosy!

I am going back to Nosy Be....

Ah man, we'll just wait and see...!



The native queens are all a pining

for me so divinely,

so finely,

as they lay out nude by the sand and sea.

I take care to spread their lotion,

to offer forth my magic potion,

as we surge with the motion by the sand and sea.

I am going back to Nosy Be....

to Nosy,

to Nosy!

I am going back to Nosy Be...

.man, I think so..?



Our walks neath the palms

drinking rum and sipping coca,

singing bawdy psalms as we walk in the sand by the sea.

Her luscious mouth slides so finely,

so delightful,

so divinely,

as we three lay nude neath the moon by the sea.



I am going back to Nosy Be,

heavenly utopia waiting for me,

I have to make it!

That land in the surging sea..,

the blessed feeling I can't fake it.



I am going back to Nosy Be....

to Nosy,

to Nosy!

I am going back to Nosy Be...

..Oh, catch me, man, I can't take it....!
















Away We Shall All Go To Nottingham



Away we shall go to Nottingham,

to Nottingham,

that most blessed of lands,

and away we shall go into Nottingham,

to Nottingham today.



There the cows always give milk,

always give milk,

as the worms there all spin the finest of silk,

the most splendid of silk,

to all the people's dismay.



There even the poorest children can afford to play,

even the penniless may play,

to everyone's dismay!

There even the poorest of children may play,

since the parks and the beaches are at at price all can pay.



There I shall dance to the did-die pantomime,

to the did-die pantomime,

with the people full of fruit shine!

Yes...,while there we shall all get full of good fruit shine

and dance a merry jig to the did-die pantomime!



There the lasses are all gorgeous and

their feather beds so fine,

as the air fills with the sound of the blessed pantomime;

in the feather beds with all our heads swooning in shine,

as we shall embrace those heavenly bodies and pine

to the tune of the piddle did-die pantomime.












The Weight Of Years



Time knoweth not any strangers.

Unto those who lie and think that he has forgotten,

their bodies and minds may continue on in silent danger,

until thy very best he has been allotted.



Thus do ye feel the dryness in thine eyes?

This feeling should accompany the one in thy hair.

Do ye feel the morning stiffness in thy thighs?

These feeling are all a part of the timeless game, so please don't despair.

All of these feeling shall intensify with every coming sunrise.



Does thy mind dwell on those past times divine,

when all of life's experiences were adventurous and good?

Do ye consistently find thyself always for those days a pining,

longing for those glory days lost where ye and all others understood

that life was meant to be lived for the thrills and glory of simply being alive,

savoring the very best of times that dear sunlight would afford?

If so then get on immediate alert,

for thy weighted defeat shall soon be thy only reward.



Very soon the burden of the years

shall crumple the body and weaken the limbs,

installing those imposing assumptions and unverified fears.

Then the mind shall choose to dwell in a more pleasant time when

that period of great misunderstanding nears.



So young one, count thy merry blessings as ye pass life though,

live life to the fullest, without jeopardizing the pleasantries of thy future.

Thrive in ye victories and thrills all anew,

for the weight of the years certainly has ye in it's indenture.

The weight of time will finally upon ye


forever removing thy presence from all surrounding, without mend;

so live life with fresh eagerness anew!.










To The Face Upon Yon Wall



To the face upon yon wall;

did ye once grace some enchanted place,

or did ye once guard some forgotten revered hall?

Is thine image of some Inca King set in his ways?

Was thy face once one of those great emissaries or one of the small?

We can only imagine that thy face of porcelain was once one of a gifted merchant,

standing forever as a shrine unto his days.

Or is thy face that of the princess' secret lover, who endeavored to enchant

her with his skillful graces?

Maybe this image of thine is one among the laboring nameless who chanced

to change some dark misfortune that came by royalties stay;

Indeed where has it been written so that future time may have it's say?



Maybe thy face is of those divine,

whose image was sought amid the rising midday incense smoke,

when thy high priest designed

to rip open the chest of some unfortunate bloke,

holding his still bleating heart high

toward the radiant one who could thus invoke

those endearing feelings of the haunting pantomime.



Whom ever thy image is intended to conjure,

whether it be one to invite an innermost light and intense passion,

or one to inspire feelings of dread and woe,

by thy image alone we all shall never know;

still thy face of porcelain only possesses the same,

for the lack of recorded knowledge is to blame.


















Why I Do Ramble



I have lived life on the move,

the feel of motion has been my groove.

The thrill of the moment has given me the notion

that life is to be lived on a roll.



Many have been the jobs that I have held,

oh, the numberless bells have I toiled.

My intention being to find a return that was well,

their intention toward my indenture have I thus foiled.



My debt margin have I kept always low,

by taking such action I put their efforts toward my contract on the go.

I have observed many who lived in search of my secret,

the truth only the simple who dare to venture shall deduce to know.



Many lands have I called home,

many ventures did I dare to take alone.

But I have sailed the South China seas.

Those gentle enticing Taiwanese vixens traveling with me

far away from their home,

fishing, sipping good red wine, taking our ease,

all of us living the very best of life,

doing what e’er we please.



Oh me oh my,

I shall here declare,

that I will never again be happy in one place;

forever more I need to be moving on land, on the high sea or in the air.

The call of the road is now in my blood,

for the next town or exotic land my desire shall burn with lust

until the very day that my mortal body shall turn to dust.












The Imp And The Fairy Princess



There once was an imp whose appearance was vain,

his behavior was foolish, even his speech an' imposing mannerisms were maimed!

From those eastern cannibalistic lands afar he and his kind

had once been blessed,

indentured to serve the superlative bloods' best.



His mortal salvation was his own indenture,

for in his own lands very few of his age did survive

the daily adventure,

let alone thrive

as a simple butler employed in basic mealtime bequest,

being allowed his nourishment from among the tables' finest!



For many years with his situation he was quite contented

until he commenced to keep company with envious out-landers

who told him tales of wealth reserved from his labor and invented

more tales of fabulous riches in his own land that his presence pandered

had forced his loss, callously forgetting his past perilous situation

and the weight that he once bore in carrying his daily cross.



So he cried unto the fairy princess bequeathing his complete liberty;

though at first she denied him his requested delivery,

she promised him that she would grant him his freedom for all infinity.

So he continued on in his daily chores inside that lavish mansion home,

existing in luxury of living and never alone,

as the weeks went by, transforming into creeping months in his atone.



As the days passed and so did the weeks,

he was approached by the outlander, Rahab, who pretended to offer wisdom

unto those in need who seek.

Her true desire was to hex with Chaos and destruction

by causing her targeted victim to become malcontent

in his present position, desiring the decadence of his past homeland

o'er the place where in luxury he did presently stand.



Just observe thyself in that peon's place where ye now stand,

ye a wanton servant in another on' 's mansion glory, when thee once possessed

thy own so grand! Dost thou truly believe that thy owner can

afford to allow thee liberty? My best suggestion then, is to put her words to the test,

now wouldst thou not agree?”


Oh then, lets do see,” replied the imp,

the thought of a lying tongue had ne’er crossed me.

But I will take your prescription and you'll never regret

the day that you offered me your very best

in words and honorable advice.”



Thou art very attentive to true wisdom's slice,

and thy gain in doing so shall indeed be very nice.

So approach the dear princess, come first glow tomorrow morn,

and behold the manner in which her waning inattentiveness

shall allow thy new revelations to be born,”

replied Rahab.



Thus..,on the first light of next morn,

the imp did make his approaching move;

his chance taken did cause the princess scorn,

her sound derision putting him on the groove.



Her reply being “next light or maybe the next blushing sun rise,

or might be the light following, if the good feeling should strike;

but on whose advice do you make your inquiry, unto one of my adoration

or my despise?

One of thy disdain or one of honest invite?

Doth he stand firm among those floundering fools or tall among the wise?

For do behold, thy success shall rest on the shoulders of my personal likes

of both you an' the very moment,

and please do remember that it is unto me no obligation

anywhere that I should bear binding ties!”



On the twelfth striking in the shadow of the full moon

didst Rahab approach to offer him confidence in success,

granting him courage to persevere through on the test.

Before she melted from his secular presence,

she demanded of him another advising spoon,

wishing him her very best.



Fall upon thy knees facing the cold damp earth below,

offering prayers unto thy lording King, Apollyon, for him to bestow

upon thee his fetid blessing, delivering up his sacred prince,

the lord of Chaos, Antagonism and Suspense. This dark saint, thence,

shall then march forward unto the fairy prince,

causing her to feel the forces of dread and woe

until she allows thy people and thou the unfettered liberty to go.”



So then the imp heeds her dark words of twisted knowledge,

horribly mistaking them for gifted wisdom.

Thus out in hinter most wilderness dark corner, keeling in homage

to the Lord Of Somber Lies and deceit, pleading unto him in his enthroned kingdom

to intercede in his own behalf.

Thus didst Apollyon's disdaining figure appear from the thin air,

demanding that he forbear his request until the light of day hath passed.



Was it not thee who sought out my relaxing presence?

How wouldst thee dare disturb my rest,

beseeching me loudly in my very residence!

Even demanding from me my very best!”



The trembling one so terrified,

glanced with wide paled eyes from side to horrifying side,

knowing not what to say or even how to reply....

He could only attempt to gaze forth into a face so repulsive,

then only hanging his face toward the ground, trying not to sound explosive.



Yes indeed...,the guilty one was I...,

though I am not a saint, I can never tell a lie;

my intention was ne'er to disturb you,

but to beseech only in earnest request.., with a last gasping sigh,

just to see what it was that thee would then do.”



Apollyon laughed in a voice that thundered on the raging wind,

then the darkening skies cleared as the streaking lightning went.

The malicious genie then paused with both muscle bound arms crossed,

gazing down upon the poor imp o'er whom he knew himself to be boss...



Very well then,” he did thunder, “if thou be brave enough to endure the loss,

indeed I am most certain that thee hath once pondered and waved the cost?

The one whom advised thee to approach and brave the tempest roll,

casually neglected to inform thee that my price extracted...

shall be both thy blundering mortal blood and soul.”



Oh please there Mr. Genie,” implored the poor imp.

I am begging of you..., just one more attempt

to sway the fairy princess, both very chaste and wise,

to let me and my people go, if you could so advise?”



Very well then,” replied the genie, “do as thee feel so led,

but I shall now inform thee that thy forlorn effort is dead;

for the princess' heart is as solid as granite stone,

her concern is preserved for her own extravagant wealth

and let lavish living be her only song.

Thou art only born to exist as her sweat drenched laboring mule.

Thy miserable life in her fields shall surely be thy only incessant rule.”



With the peach rise of the morning sun,

the imp did make his way toward the gardens and the vineyard run,

approaching the delicate fairy princess with the question hot on his mind,

the answer looming ever still that he was hoping to find.

In great reverence the imp didst dare to approach,

dropping down upon a single knee in earnest beseech,

placing both hands together in humble pining bow,

dearly requesting that the princess honor his earnest avow.



Please my dearest Mrs. Xantho,

of my gasping plea thee does surely know

that I only desire my freedom of will.

If it is that I should only freely come and go,

but of thee thou will posses my devoted loyalty still,

I in gracious earnest desire to impart so.”



The fairy princess laughed deeply from within,

her face then streaked with a thin waxing grin.

Her beholding the imp donned in such perfect dress and tie,

she could only shake her head in wonder as to why.



Where as thy lavish provider hath now been me,

thy only indenture is unto thee, when it is that thou art free.

When ye precious suit and must surely soon forbear,

what then may ye endeavor to wear..., rag cloth, possum skin or hare?

When thy food is caviar, rice and tender river cane shoots,

when ye are then forced to forbear.., what then may be thy nourishment...,

carrion, rat flesh and tuckahaw roots?

What manner of employment shall sustain thee,

when thy only labor hath been in support of this elegant mansion house

and it's affluent company?”



None-the-less Mrs. Xantho, please allow my wishes to be,

my dear heart desires it's passion of will,

for my poor soul yearns only to be free.

Does not the robins desire to cross o'er on high still

when the fall arrives and the far south is best to be?

Does not the graceful stag choose to roam woods and open fields,

so that only he may profit from their bounteous yields?

Well in likewise fashion so do I

desire to go by my own design.

By my own ingenuity any resulting possible wealth

shall be my soul pine.

If all else should fail, Mrs. Xantho,

then by the rights of my own labor..., I shall do just fine.”



The fairy princess...did take a deep sigh,

only to shake her golden head in wonder as to why.

When one lives so well and enjoys life in the shade

that he would choose to abandon all of it for poverty on any given day.



Well..., so it is that we shall simply just wait and see.

On occasion it takes time for the mind to conceive

the folly that it has come to believe..,

when all appears so much better indeed

from where it is that he stands making his foolish reprieve.”



Late that night the wicked genie did reappear,

his haunting spectrum ever so near.

The imp now came to dread his daunting approach,

for he knew well that into his breast the evil hand desired to encroach.



Very well then, ye most foolish imp,

allow thy bumble wishes now to initiate.

For presently unto me thee hath made thy request,

if ye should ever turn and run, then I shall lay thee and all of thine to waste.


Now there is no turning back.

Thy request was the gift of thy infinite liberty and without haste...,

and soon the price shall come due unto me of thy most treasured best.

Had ye chosen to remain, then ye might have been allowed

the granting of another deep silent, most secret debauched wish....,

that being the sight of unadorned pastel flesh;

but since ye have thrown it all away on whimsical thoughts,

now there is no turning back to obtain thy corrupting wants.


Now have a bit more patience and heed these dire warnings,

for soon there shall come a mighty storming

upon the grand estate of the fairy princess until the moment is right,

then she shall allow ye and all of ye impish kind

to flee away into the bleak stormy night.”



Oh my dearest Genie,” sighed the imp, “if only I could now retreat..,

my poor eyes could tingle then with enraptured glee...,

for there is no other pleasure that it's good feeling may beat

than that of my poor eyes beholding chaste unadorned pastel flesh so clean!

So pleasant is the sight to behold that I shall rhyme song and sing;

for it's joy unto my eyes is far greater than that ever wrought by the precious sound

of sweet freedom's ring!”



So on the ninth night from the genie's last visit

the figure of Chaos did move upon the earth bound estate to insist

that the hardened heart of the fairy princess reconsider to make reprieve,

allowing the imp and his kind to have their unchaperoned leave.

Not only that if she still should answer no,

then the dark curse of Chaos would come to fill every estate

in the entire land with woe.



Thus he

being the second outlander to move with envy

for the fairy princess stable wealth

in Rahab's wake.

In the witching moon of the twelfth striking

did Chaos ascend upon the princess gracious estate,

destroying all the lush gardens and the mansion, as it may,

laying all of the lavish fields and stores to waste.

When the imp did again make his approach toward her,

once more her sharp reply was “no” and without haste.



So again did Chaos move, but this time, to fill the entire land.

Laying destruction upon every beast and the labored works of man.

Now there existed no restraints upon the imp and those brutes of his own kind.

They were at long last free to do according to the whims of their own mind.

But before they all were to have their first dash toward their heart's desire,

there was one more visitor who would appear unto them all,

bearing a brilliant sword of perfect bronze, flaming with dancing mid-night fire.

This visitor was a singing cherub from the supreme one..., so mighty and divine,

who bore a punitive warning with all of them in mind.



Yes..., do go and roam the earth in search of all that thee and thy vain kind

may chance to find,

but in thy desultory quest for luxury and liberty,

just remember that ye neglected me for

making thy first inquiry…


For all of eternity ye shall thus be reminded of my words.

Do go on and take thy secular pleasures of purloined wealth

and wasted corrupting pastel flesh;

but for the sin of making thy appeal to Satan in bequest,

one day thee and thy kind shall be bound in numbers greater than ever before heard,

their shackles loudly snapping before thee can even pause to ponder or guess.




The entire land shall then be infinitely liberated from thy noxious girth...

Beware the first lure, which shall be thy profit in absence of any transfer in work.

When the second lure shall be a dismantling absence of corporate regulation,

the golden twin towers shall soon fall in great conflagration.

When the restraints upon the subtle King's authority shall then see their removal,

his absolute reign shall find it's superior mortal approval.

Thus I tell ye, that thee and thy kind should tremble with trepidation and fear,

for then ye complete damning subjugation looms near.”



After the announcement of these words..., the imp did move on.

The pleasures of the moment consumed his heart, soul, flesh and bone.

His sons and daughters accept not tomorrows fate,

for their gluttonous debauched desires can no longer wait.

But so true to the angel's warning reprimand,

the flaming towers have already collapsed into the sand.

The king in command now bears no restraint,

that precious doctrine of liberty he will soon move to taint....

Then all of the imps shall exist as his own mortal bane,

his sons and daughters forced once again to live in chains;

their impish minds will never comprehend even their own pain,

living only to gratify an elitist insatiable gain.



The fairy princess...,

though she wept in her bitter reprieve,

her sons and daughters forced to forgo all excess,

countless numbers choosing to leave.

In the passage of time she once again rose to her feet,

though not yet nearly as strong, appearing somewhat weak.

She ...despising the debauchery in the world around her,

schemes to ascend into authority, hoping to remove the poisonous cancer....

In her heart she knows that one day her glorious reign shall somehow come.

She feels the celestial promise upon her face every morn

with rise of the peach sun.















































A Vision Of Future's Glory



On a sofa of leather in the mentor's lounge I now sit,

pondering futures' test,

painting a portrait of my forward bequest

unto those majestic ancient warrior gods, whom shall allow it.



A stroll along a splendid tropical beach,

nine divine grass skirted native princes servants,

an agua de loca of slivered ice in the hands

of each, whilst I take my shaded ease in in the sand

to marvel as my illustrious estate expands.



My Spanish colonial mansion looming so proudly upon yon hill

facing the pride of King Poseidon and the glory of the rolling sea.

The palm shrouded surrounding gardens surly open their arms at will

unto those of whom I will embrace dearest unto me.



Our holiday feasts are among the very best in the province!

Our social atmosphere is treasured dearest by the locals,

for our activities rank certainly among the most adventurous;

behold, the prize in our estate contests reign supreme among the natives' yearning token.



My real-estate holdings are truly vast,

for there is great pride in my unrestrained ability to expand,

'tis underneath true freedoms flag, my enterprising net shall thus be cast.

The glory in my name reigns supreme throughout the entire land!



My dear native angel sitteth in honor by my side,

basking in the glory of that superlative banner

whilst she shares in the fruits of true freedoms' pride!

In the name of my fearless forefathers we both stand

in Bellamy salute to our endeavors.

Hail to the glory of the timeless banner of good Saint Andrew's cross!

May pride in her name reign for ever and ever!








Life On A New Age Homestead



The barrel is on the porch a purging fat possum.

The flower is in a five gallon bucket nearly forgotten.

The apples are in the root cellar to keep 'em from going rotten.

The farmer is out in the fields just a plottin'.

We are a heading down in the woods this Sunday morning.

The old moll is still a rocking on the front porch

just a scorning!

Coffee is in the pot a steepin',

soon to be poured.


'round here I'll just tell you we 'uns never get bored,

whether home in the fields,

in woods or in bed;

but such is life in a clapboard shack

on a new age homestead!

The deer in the woods are a getting' bigger.

The catfish in the pond are just a pullin' the jigger!

The traps are a catchin' the most game of all.


this morning' we caught a three hundred pound bear

in our black oak deadfall!



Later this evening we'll stop by old man Jed Christie's grits mill.

Then we'll walk on down Baker's creek where the branch cabbage grows

to check on our liquor still.

The drip keg thumps to the tune that it will;

hell there's time for a sip cause

now we got time to kill!



On in to town there is a fat lass whom I know well.

She don't talk very much, so she'll never tell,

but she's a pinin' fer a shinin' when I ring her bell;

well boy do I have you a sad spell to tell tale,

cause she's a always moonin' fer a spoonin',

a yodelin' puddin' fer sale!

In church she's says that life is goin' swell,

still a yellin' that she'll stay pure

till the day that she is wed;

but so life goes out in a lean two shack,

on a new age homestead!




Merry Misadventure



The islands are callin', I got that endearing feeling,

the fish are biting and schooling, it's hurricane season.

The bohemians are gathering to paint, ponder and glorify

those hidden dimensions of life and the justifying reasons

for us to sanctify them.



Even at the time of the yuletide, those fine dames are a pining

for us swash-bucklers to give the them endearing company.

Just off the coast a bit the surfacing whales are a whining,

the dolphins are a leaping, merrily trumpeting

as our jon boats ease along netting snapper and grouper.

They all swim and leap along beside us in happy bequest

for our scraps, small delicacies and tidbits for their supper.

If any remains from our wanton feast, then we'll surely give them what is left



Aye- the glinting gold hiding deep in those limestone caves is a waiting,

embracing our advance as we ease along for the taking.

The limestone cliffs rise high for our long range spying,

so the enclosed harbor conceals us from any threatening eyeing.

The sea sloshes into the freshwater creek that winds ecstatically

back into the depth of the limestone cliffs.

The rise of the sea seals off the caves to emphatically

close off our cave hideaway from any imposing skiffs.

The retreat of the sea allowing our exit back along the beach

for morning time trapped fish and fresh oyster delicacies.



Thus unto my fantasy I am forever sold,

only to roam distances in search of wealth sitting inside

huge wrought iron chest untold.

In the meantime I shall take my pleasure from those thrills of indenture

found in bold

island adventure.



My eyes gaze into the horizon of the rolling sea,

my embrace as my body doth forward move is toward Poseidon,

my soul glides forward beyond to embrace Ares.

In mortal life my body knows no pause, only a life of moving, sailing, gliding,

searching for that special place of secular paradise that my contentment needs.



They all stand in astonishing wonder as I only pause in my move

to where I can net the most return on my plunder.

I venture on in pursuit of the need to groove

like a rolling stone during the time of monsoon rains, fire and thunder.



It is Poseidon, that magisterial spirit of the high seas

who has contrived to posses my mortal soul,

thus I am compelled to satisfy that need,

the seed for thrilling adventure and chances taken that are so bold

as to astound my descending generations for ages untold.



My desire is to experience those untouched island lands,

populated by those who are motivated

in the arts of deductive logic and reason. People who exist in untainted bands

such as those of some yet undiscovered Thule, whose arts of deductive philosophy shall titillate

even the toughest analytic gruel.



In my eyes I envision those grand monuments so majestic

that they shall loom forward in glittering example of supreme creative best.

The industry buzzing, but to the unmotivated may just appear hectic,

though they all move forward with open hands out stretched in bequest

for the ultimatum that they can offer out of imposing compelled generosity.



So thus I shall sail away on the wind and the tide,

with the perpetual movement and rhythm my soul shall abide.


















Dance Of The Black Cats



I saw her languishing in the courtyard among the flowers,

sitting 'neath the old pear tree,

holding a bouquet of chrysanthemum for hours,

appearing as though her dark secret was to forbear all chastity.



I had heard that her secluded practice was Stygian magic,

I heard if from a spectrum bride to be,

so I sneaked down the street around the corner ecstatically

and this is what happened to me.



I hid so completely there in the hedge,

there was no way that she or anyone else could see

that I was there peeking to give my mind an edge,

silently hoping that she would in ecstatic joy, indeed

embrace me.



My heart raced with anticipation

as she lifted her face to meet mine,

anxious for the thrill of the moment in elation,

for my twine her longing passion did pine.



An unseen pull did find it's way,

forcing me along in it's tainted line,

like a pursuing panther did I creep toward her stay.

Without speaking a single word she arose in time

with my approach on that enrapturing day.



Her veiling toga fell from her shoulders

as she arose to greet my embracing approach.

My enchanted heart raced making me bolder,

upon her nude form I did encroach.



I could not resist as her haunting spell enchanted,

for my very soul her spirit did desire use,

my mortal mind and body her panting

fascination did seduce.



She forced me to engage in frivolity

in which I had no choice to stay.

She compelled me to speak tainted words to deify

her embrace,

which I now so bitterly recall to my own astonished dismay.



When the time for repression has passed,

knew then I that she was no mere mortal,

for her net upon my poor soul had now been cast,

just as the spirit compelled dance of the black cats had foretold.



Just as the hazy blood moon in the midnight sky

compelled the face on the pumpkin to speak it's prophesy of doom,

in absence of any intellectual composure explaining why;

still the whining dance of the black cats shall always foretell one's gloom,

in-spite of all imposing conjecture, its prophecy does never lie.



She whisked me away to eternally merge with the light

of the midnight moon,

for all infinity my penalty is to dance in the graveyard for the demons of the night,

until the time of the Elysium garden's bloom.


























The Electric Bulb Or Candle Light



Doth the light hanging above my table shine

to illuminate without the flicker of fire bright,

the wasting wax only diddles to a dripping pantomime.

But the supreme test tonight

shall be an honest comparison between the steady illumination

of an electric bulb and the delightful dance of a candle lit sight.



Though the illumination be steady

all 'tis not to any divine likeness,

for the spirits flee forward from heady

brightness of day,

in favor of the dancing candle serenade.



When I am in need of the futures enumeration,

I can never appeal to the steady shine

of an electrical illumination.

Doth I then make my invest of the candles might

in absence of any daunting hesitation.

My inheritance shall then be the blessed performance in advance

of our mortal place

or any looming horrible circumstance

to prevent our secular waste.



Thus shall it so be that the conclusion is final,

that the dance of candlelight holds supreme

to the electric bulb, for in that there exists no denial,

from the power of the candle the bulb canst never redeem

the mortal's desire for celestial power.















A Wassailin' We Shall Go



Lets go a wassailin',

a wassailin',

a wassailin'.

Lets go a wassailin'

in olde Lumber town,

olde Lumber town,

ye olde Lumber town,

for to see the crocks rumble

and savor some fleshly delights!

Lets go a wassailin' tonight!



Into Lumber Town we doth go,

to Lumber Town we all will go.

To Lumber Town we go

to see the sights all around.

We all shall go a wassailin' in olde Lumber Town,

to see the sights all around

and hear the pleasant sounds.



We shall sing of sanctity and praises

of the good King and crown,

oh and that good Queen ever so renowned.

We shall sing cheerful songs of praises and sanctity

to the good Queen and majesty

in ye olde Lumber Town tonight!



We shall all stroll about filled

with frothy cheer,

brimming with thy foaming beer!

Our fire flowers thundering blissful knells

whilst we all ring those most jubilant of bells,

marching forward in tune as we sing!

As we forward march we all shall sing

ye piddle diddly,

sing cheerful songs of piddle diddly

as we all march forward into the halls

of thy lofty sovereign committee;

dancing gracefully in ye elaborate waltz

in merry tune with thy joyful trumpet;

moving gracefully in talented whirls,

making those revealing dresses raise in colorful

candy swirls

of ye flaming Dacian strumpets!



We shall all make good company

outside of ye purloining laws,

ye skillful purloining laws,

ye scornful purloining laws.

We all shall make good company

living contented outside of ye purloining laws

in olde Lumber Town tonight.



Our gathering abode shall all be in the genie's den,

singing in absence of remorse

in any sort of reprobate or sin;

the genie's den when we shall all sing

songs of our lively adventures with the honored Puck King

and his thirty merry men,

whom all so merrily dwell in

ye Olde Lumber Town tonight!





























Rime Of The Smiling Pumpkin



He was a fine man,

a physician among the very best,

among the most caring in the land

that nature didst invest.



The dear children was his adoration,

the main subject of his desire to heal,

he done so at the slightest invitation,

performing the assigned task with great zeal.



The elderly and the poor his kindness did adore,

granting generous blessings upon them all,

never requesting any return for his restore,

he only heeded lovingly to the call.



A fine estate did he own,

the latest of fashions he did embrace,

unto those elitist clubs he didst belong,

the local majesty he did provide satisfying place.



A handsome wife stood proudly by his side,

six children did he raise up in the best of private schools,

by him didst they all thrive and abide

in the destination of success, which was their golden rule.



But then one cold dreary day during hollow's 'en,

to the astonishment of all, did he put on his haunting display;

from the main shelter support beam in the back yard den,

did he choose to dangle on that most regretful day.

The locals claiming that a possessed rutabaga remained smiling amid their

sad but haunted gatherings way,

whence he had met his dreadful end.









Follow The Flaming Cross



The moon is a looming quarter

as all of Glendale sit on their back porches,

gazing across the valley border.

Singing hails to god Camulus, keeping vigilant order

for the endless lines of haunting torches.



Yea through the heavy gloom of darkness,

that precious divine light shall bequest

our mortal rage in restraining harness,

our cold calculating energy to invest.



Our enemy hath violated our cherished oaths,

innocent blood hath his edge thus spilled,

they hath violated our virgin hosts and now they dare to boast,

reveling in the retelling of how they forced their debauched ways with such cunning skill!

They courted our good faith

and our confidence in their positive intentions,

only to steal our fortunes with their insolent waste,

even daring to hold our dear children for their heartless ransom.



Here we sit and sing of our celestial redemption

and the day that we shall make even on our great loss,

for within the murky darkness we shall heed our call to rally without exemption,

for ever born to follow the glorious flaming cross!



We were born to follow the flaming cross

of Camulus my dear children,

pausing only for us to rally our mighty army and exhaust

enemy forces and buildings.

Follow the flaming cross,

for in it's brilliant passing we shall find our honors' redemption.

We gather round in great number to toss

unto Camulus alms and to mention

aloud those most depraved of enemy deeds,

then move to mercilessly redeem our honor and mortal loss.

Moving only to satisfy our lusting heart's raging need

for vindicating retribution at all enemy cost.



So follow the flaming cross

my dear children,

o'er river, through woods and rolling dale,

show thy enemy great loss

in the vile blood of their kindred, so that their tears may never quell.

Follow the flaming cross

until it pauses upright in radiation so divinely

upon their tainted turf for our mighty armies purpose;

in silence we gather by the thousands to advance forward

in organized assembly!



By the crack of dawn their blood shall flow

like raging rivers,

and by their horror they all shall come to know

of the sudden terror that we shall mercilessly deliver.

Upon our honed edge they all shall endlessly fall

and so man, woman and child shall thence defer,

bowing in humility and terror to gratify our sacred call!

The blood of their men shall flow wide and deep,

the soil of the earth shall secure their male child's potential

for a future rage to reap.

Their women and girl children shall submit unto our intrepid credential

or suffer dearly as their protecting men all sleep.

In this action alone our redemption shall thus be fulfilled

and our once shattered honor now made complete.

Onward my dear children, for the glory of Camulus' compelling will!

Forward in the name of honor and illustrious victory,

our rightful fortune and eternal reigning majesty we all invest to seek!






















They Gathered To Give Thanks



From across the water they came,

their beliefs and talents to invest,

repression of the times were to blame,

so they chanced all in a great test.



Onto virgin shores they landed,

anticipating no welcoming committee,

a warrior's fortress they branded

as their great claim to the futures fortunate city.



The woods were abuzz with those whom

were already there, moving to view and investigate

weather fate had for them good tidings or doom,

did the need for battle necessitate or should they twain in friendships embrace?



From trees, mud and stone did that rising fortress atone

for these invaders being friend or foe?

Two opposing cultures meet to live among each other alone

or they shall fill each others lives with dread and woe.



So as a sign of compromise

they both gathered to make a great nourishing display,

each one offering thanks until the other came to realize

that only the immaculate Divine will have his way.

And of the futures implore

the masses did gather to give thanks for their many blessing

there on that beautiful Virginia shore.















That Beautiful Place That We All Know



To Salem we go,

that beautiful place that we all know,

to fill our coffers with doe,

onward to Salem we all shall go.



That dark feline knoweth the way

to lead us toward that blessed bay;

onward to Salem without want,

for the town council shall surly feel the rapture

in our blessed taunt.

Onward to Salem shall we go!



Our sacred herbs the townsfolk are all a buyin',

so tonight we ride our broomsticks a flyin'.

Our spells they are all a pinein'

'cause their villains are all conivin',

so lets go to Salem town tonight!



The gold shall be in flowing,

cause our saints are all knowing,

when we set up camp tonight.

The demons will be a stirring for flight

as our power starts to growing

in old Salem town tonight.



The stew pot is a gurglin'

as we three stand a round

with our tainted brew a stirrin';

then shall our potions hold their greatest might

as all things get really hot there in old Salem town


Aye, their lovers have all strayed

as their men elope with the poor maids,

hence our labors worth in our potions' betide

as the good townsfolk flock into our camp-site

in old Salem town tonight.



Their children's wicked wight

still fills them all with sickness and fright,

so thus shall our wise saints endeavor

to give those bad boys another flavor

in our campsite on this hallows eve invite.



The merry dwarfs will be there a dancing

as the ponies are in round circle walking, prancing

in our campsite by the stream fork's hilly right.

The bohemian gals will be a viewing crystal ball

as the clowns juggle with all their might,

whilst those laughing giants make jolly stroll

through our camp tonight.

Tonight all evil shall be made into good

just as all the townsfolk know that it should,

in our campsite by the stream fork tonight.

So everyone come and merry make,

bring your maiden daughters, hurry and don't hesitate,

all of the fun is in our camp invite;

First fork by the hillside on the creek

in old Salem town tonight!






























The Majestic Flower



Deep into the dreary mist of my mind,

in shadow valleys awash in splashing falls,

this poor wretched soul of mine

doth find it's rich occasion to pause.



Of thy trees, meadows and blooms

my poor soul longs to rediscover,

only to pass through those mythical places of the ancient tombs

in search of past secrets to uncover.



I long for the place of ringing Church bells,

of old times ne'er forgotten,

of those wise elders who eagerly foretell

the direction where futures feet are trodding.



Of battles distant past

and our heroes cannon serenade,

I pine for my poor soul to be cast

into such an inviting glade.



I love to hear of that most blessed army of ghosts

who moved forward from high mountain Bastille estate,

to besiege those mongrel troll villains invading our surging coasts,

bearing evil intentions as they lie in traitorous wait.



Thus my withering soul shall scour

all of the mystery islands lost in time,

in absolute search of that certain hour

when its eternal joy shall find,

the infinite place of that most majestic magnolia flower.











The Lady In The Sky



The wind is singing sweetly,

can't you taste the blood wine?

The gentle ladies are sighing deeply

as the dulcimer plays that haunting pantomime.



I embrace the jaunting spectrum

of that angelic maid who was so fine,

as she endeavors to approach me from that distant hilltop castellum,

seeking to bless me in her yearning embrace so divine.



Her spirit now doth completely envelope my form,

her breath she breathes so sweetly as she layeth by my longing side.

Her mid-night presence somehow hath become my norm,

by me forever she shall now abide.



I feel her presence beneath my heaving bosom,

her breath, her response, her pining sigh;

her unadorned translucent figure appearing so eternally wholesome,

like the surge of the oceans tide.



She doth so lavishly embrace me,

the lover's most cherished skills she passionately invests,

with no others ever seeking to divest thee

of her presence nor her best.



When her greeting is all done

and my loyalty hath completed her test,

her spectrum figure gradually now fading only with the rising sun.

Still I feel her presence beside me when I face the hazy west....

Now the misty hilltop Burgus once again looms before me,

of it's ancient presence my wretched soul can never digress.












Song Of The Gypsy Wind



Of the future most don't know,

it's commands might be way too demanding;

in future knowledge we may grow

as we make ourselves handy.



If we shall seek the best

of whom dwell within the bohemian grove,

then shall we put the pictures to the test,

unto powers of clairvoyance we doth owe.



Shall we sing a song of happenstance,

a crystal ball and dancing flame,

for to conjure a spectrum image by chance,

his beguiling words of wisdom are to blame.



So shall we walk forward in confidence,

the pitfalls of life we're never fearing,

or shall we proceed forth in hesitance,

never knowing what may be nearing?



The coals are winking, now glowing hot,

the potion boiling, the ingredients stirring,

into the hearth center sits a spider legged cooking pot,

the black cat sits by a purring.



The beautiful bohemian maiden

stirs, chanting into the midnight wind;

until the misty ghost sings of fortune without waiting

deep into the night again.



So sit patiently by my longing children,

in search of futures' end,

listen to those songs of passion

to find the point of misfortunes mend.






I Want A Dirt Road


I wanna dirt road,

I hear the wind song a calling.

I see the woods offering me abode

since the snow will soon be falling.



I need one that winds far down into who knows where,

there I can take a walk with a creek winding along beside,

cause then I can lose all pressing cares.

I need sunshine and weather that offers fair betide.

I wanna dirt road so I can just open up and tare!



I need a dirt road

so I can ride down far into the midnight dark,

deep down where all of the sounds are bullfrogs and water toads.

I need a dirt road to ride down where I can think an' pause to drink;

I love the one that winds down really far enough to find natures condo,

where only me and Sunshine Sally may intimately park and creatively think.



I need a dirt road where all arguments may there be cast,

where I and my rival can duel it out with fist and blade

until the compelling feelings have long since passed.

I need a dirt road through dense wood and fairy glade,

one where the spirits dwell and their pursuing servants fast,

'cause there I shall truly have it made!



I need a dirt road that winds down far

enough so that I can hear the distant loom of the mission bells,

then I can gaze upward to see the winking of the stars

and know without hesitating, that indeed ….,I have done very well.















The Call Of Adventure



The desire for adventure is loudly calling,

the urge for unique experience abroad in exotic lands afar.

The heavy hand of complacency in where I currently am is quickly falling,

so lets all catch the next fleeting star!



Lets fly across desert sands and thick woods,

far across lakes, oceans and plowed fields,

on passed those honored places where the victorious once stood,

for to seek good fortune's glittering yields.



Lets sail across the vast cerulean seas,

in search of blessed Thule Nirvana,

taking our pleasure satisfying those yearning cherub needs,

paying homage only to the flaming cross of our immaculate Sultana.



Lets catch a few dragon fly on the wing,

seizing their energy into controlled harness,

making their buzz into sweet music that they will sing

as we pass o'er the lands' most charming bliss.



Better yet, I shall declare,

lets seize a lift from the soaring eagles above!

They being thirty in all, glide so high in the air,

may surly give us dutiful transport more gracefully than a dove.



The timeless song of high adventure is calling,

seeking to place me into it's divine indenture.

Into it's arms I feel my soul involuntarily falling,

I shall amble away into yon landscape picture.














The Eternal Contest



Oh, if only to think upon this lonesome star called love,

the height of all existence known,

the fleeting majesty of a dove,

affecting even boys who are then destined to become starved men

when they are grown.



To beseech as we make our honest appeal,

in search of fortunes good way,

in hopes that our shining success will

carry us through many a forlorn day.



Then there are the foolish games

we all design to play,

in hopes of swaying those giddy dames

whom design to hold us in their own sway.



Some are inclined only to engender

those most passionate delights,

that the close of thick doors may only render

as we give way unto the night.



Then to our gasping dismay

the enrapture of passions moment

could just carry us away,

later on only causing us to deliberate

the manner in which it moved to hold us all at bay.



Thus in the end,

as we move along in this great encircle,

we all struggle to avoid any bend

as we all engage in the eternal concourse.





Phantom Of The Pantomime



Bless me now, thy apparition so divine...

Sing sweetly unto me thy assurance, as ye breathe the exalted pantomime.

Thy sweet breath holdeth more value than coins of lucid gold,

for thy anointed presence beareth much more harvest than do doubloons untold.



By cozy hearth edge we spoke our earnest vows,

the coals ghost wrought within us it's blessed endow.

Both our eyes absorbed the sacred vision dancing within the oaken flame,

for the robed phantom of the pantomime, we may never hold to blame.



Thy eerie mid-night song, I can scantily remember...,

but the time of our betrothal was in the late December.

The cathedral hall was decked with chrysanthemum, ibis pompom in flower,

hailing the finest of dry blush wine

to grace the sacred twelfth knelling hour,

as we both embrace the enrapturing feeling of the haunting pantomime.



Thy bronze chalice filled with blood brandy burgundy,

the matrimonial chamber endowed with heavenly lace and silken majesty;

all hindsight now relegated to the haze of a remote misty pine

as I long, ever more ceaselessly,

for the enrapturing pleasure of the midnight pantomime.



The complete absorption of thy divine embrace,

the merger of our mortal souls, none can ne'er replace.

We inhale the heavy mist as we breath loves passionate haze,

those spirits of the fleeting moments, our heaving moves doth exhilarate;

that immaculate combination hath wrought within, it's delightful spell so divine,

as the unseen spectrum sings the lullaby of the blessed pantomime.













The Native Prayer To The Wind Goddess



I beseech thy sanctified spirit as it rideth on the wind...

I behold it in the rustle of the leaves, the tinkle of flowing water,

those shredded mortal bodies that astonishingly mend.

Fill my heart with thy majesty, cause me to acknowledge in ways that really matter.

Surround my form with those sweet zephyr cherubs that labor so dutifully to send

forth comfort when there exist none, in melancholy absence of all serenity.



Allow me to penetrate thy immortal dimension,

that sanctified place of existence, endlessly free from corrupting secular invention.

I seek to move within the sincere sensation of natural ethereal freedom, but yet still contained

inside this carnal vessel, without possibility of being maimed

by those dark forces who seek to only invite eternal destruction.

Give me sanctity, oh Lord of all positive, from their persuasive powers of induction.



Introduce me unto glittering brilliance, oh spirit of the tumbling water sensation.

Allow me to behold all that is sanctified inside the soul of thy immaculate nation.

Bestow upon me knowledge from thy blessed scholarly best in anointed creativity,

allow the truest of artistic splendor to stand as my infinite mortal legacy.

Walk with me in my moments of despair, oh Lord of the passion flowers

that beautify the base of the splashing falls that so gracefully shower;

please stand by me during my most trying hours, give me force of strength through all

that moves to threaten and stall our efforts to enlighten, giving creative brilliance

to a world that benightedly turns repetitively to terrestrial happenstance.



I only seek the secrets of avoiding mortal desecration,

oh our immaculate one!;

desiring only to lead all into the glory of sublime phenomenon.

Allow my creative work to be thy force that moves

by embracing paths where effectively applied mortal effort behooves.
















The Sailor's Sea Song



Oh sing to me now, ye spirits of the sea.

Guide me into a place filled with glee;

take me where there is no concern with sickness, pain nor the hour,

for there dwells only cheerful daffodil and enrapturing flower.



Take me where there exist possibility for thrills untold,

where golden treasures are found as they were during those glorious days of old;

where cheerful hearts flourish with no regrets

and lively dance to happy music is all that seekers doth beget.



I need a keg from which delightful wine and brandy flows for eternity,

where with it cheerful delight goes from now into infinity!

I need a grass skirted maiden who loves to wave the ibis plume fans

to shade the evening and cool her loving talented man.

We all need a cheerful song than never ceases to enchant,

one that bears bewitching power to cool a tyrants rant!

A sweet song sang by the haunt of native flute,

that transcends all language, absorbing even the minds of those whom are most astute.



I need an island song where cheerful days transform into delightful nights,

that carries all of us away on spiritual invites,

bringing comfort to troubled mortal souls,

forbearing all heartless condemning scolds.



I now sing this melody to the precious Madonna of the high seas,

requesting sanctified gracious generosity, if unto her it should please.

Please bless us now as we make this long venture,

let thy eternal bliss be our only mortal indenture.














The Truth About It



No more leeches, no more pain,

no more reasons to explain.

The way it all was, is the way that it shall stand to exist,

no more reasons to resist.



The pain is too much, the loss to great,

no more justification to debate.

The time has come, since the hurt is still here,

this bloody torture will never disappear.



They told me don't, but I just can't deny

that the pain still hurts until I cry.

I tried their false purloining cures, I took their poisoned pills,

but they could never cure my wretched ills.



My fingers can't bend, my legs can't walk,

but this hell that I am living is nobody's fault.

My feet were born crippled, but my situation was their disciple.

The conquest that was so near, was so inviting.



I went to their false schools, I sang their lying songs,

but I never did find my place to belong.

The day has come, this deed weighs heavily upon me that I must do,

so don't anyone dare walk around feeling so blue.



This time for all draws ever so near,

but I can tell ye people, that there is no reason to fear.

Some say you will, some say you wont,

but I say that their own looming future shall be their eternal taunt.












The Magic Carousel



Today we shall ride the magic carousel,

the blessed ride that we know so well;

the carousel, oh that magic carousel,

right on passed the glamorous palaces of those imposing infidels.



Today we shall ride into that land of magic and imagination

without any sort of imposing hesitation;

oh that land of magic that we are getting to know so well

we all shall see again as we ride the spectacular carousel.



Today we all shall eat sweet candy and unicorn hearts

before our blessed journey even starts!

We shall glide down waterfalls

before the smiling sun decides to stall.

We shall glide down the streams of water

before the lure of our adventure even begins to call.



As we make our way through, both the saints and the villains

shall somehow stand tall,

and those who are most willing

shall ne'er worry about nothing at all.



Today we shall ride on the magic carousel,

living out those enchanted stories that we shall long tell;

seeing sights of real life before the looming death knell

of the imaginary kingdom and the magic pearl.



Oh, today shall be the day

© Copyright 2020 H.L. Dowless. All rights reserved.

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