Dedicated, To Those Who Will Die Tomorrow

How many loaves of white bread did I buy for a dollar today?

Oh damn, it should have been whole grain.

That is how we can eat right they say.

And I thought the all news radio station said something about 200 dead.

I think it was in Syria.

I feel so guilt ridden.

I did not walk my 2 miles before breakfast.

I had two ice cream cups for dessert.

And the handsome man, and the pretty face on the big screen TV,

said it was poison gas, maybe, they don’t know for sure. Now it’s time for sports.

When is too much information

not enough information to act?

To finally do something to solve the problem.

At last someone on TV has an answer. 

They are going to trade the Quarterback for a first round draft pick next year.

Nothing on the tube tonight.

I guess I’ll try a level or two in Candy Crush or Farmville.

News flash, RSS feed, PUSH notification, a Presidential tweet.

The carriers are in position.

I need some nails to build another barn,

I’m out of lives. Please, can you send me some lives?

Celebration of Love.

Our eyes meet, we need no words to be spoken between us.

We have done this before, many times.

I embrace you with all the poise and charm, you expect of your champion.

I hold you in my arms as we move as one body in the night. 

My stomach to yours we glide through positions, muscles straining in unison.

Soon you relax in the certain safety of my manly embrace,

as I lead you step by step through  graceful rhythms of love.

Twisting and turning with elegant delight.

 

My right hand on the small of your naked back, my left behind your head.

I lift you up, my face to your breast as we slowly roll, twist and turn.

Your legs wrapped tightly around me,

you arch back.

I grab your shoulders your elbows your forearms

and finally your hands and mine clasp as you continue to lean backwards,

slowly… sensually…

lingering in each moment of sinful delight.

Suddenly your arms fly up and surround my neck,

and you kiss me in perfect time to the final beat of ecstasy.

The music stops,

you slide off of me and onto your feet.

I gracefully hold your hand high as we present ourselves one last time to the audience,

a final bow to the judges.

I lead you off the dance floor to the table reserved for couple 112

Where we rejoin our friends and lovers, yours and mine.

They leap to their feet as our score for Argentine Tango is announced.

The ballroom erupts in celebration of our victory.

Where, Oh Where, Would I go?

Last week while sitting in a writing class,

Dear Teacher asked of me..

Of all the places in the world,

which do you most wish to see?

I sat back and gave some thought -been there -done that,

Once by land and twice by sea.

Then like a blessed epiphany,

the answer was reviled to me.

The best trip of a lifetime.

A vacation that can’t be beat?

I’d love to see North Korea,

from 65,000 feet.

Riding in a B-2 Bomber,

or maybe a B-52

I’d fly up to old Pyongyang,

and drop a bomb or two.

I’d download a spy satellite data feed,

and program my smart bomb.

I’d specifically target their Great Leader,

to the civilians I’d wish no harm.

Well hello there little Kim Jung Un.

I hope I’m not too crass.

Would you mind bending over just a little bit more,

so I can hit you in your … brass

This would start a scramble for succession,

I doubt it would start world war three.

The Korean Little Lord Fountleroy’s are lined up waiting

as far as the eye can see.

And should the next Great Leader get nasty,

should he start to threaten war!

I’ll just go for a ride in my bomber of rhyme,

that’s what a poet is for.