To Steve

"To Steve"

A Jade Buddha picked me up in his taxicab.

We drove to The Hilly City across The Red Bridge's Golden Bay.

He told me The Divine Being's heart was full of joy and contentment.

Not unlike those of the enlightened few.

The Wise One has a soul full of knowledge and tolerance.

Through love's strength comes eternal wisdom and peace.

The Buddha let me go pursue my travels to Tibet.

It was there where I found My Sage's Monastery on a Himalayan Mountaintop.

Jonathan Billet

Sacred Season's Life

"Sacred Season's Life"

Just started writing poetry and will never finish with any degree of success.

Winter's words are frozen and summer ones are burnt.

Spring and fall are so beautiful, they can't be disguised in words.

They make me too lazy to write about them.

Want to lie down and bask in their beauty.

Here I lie in my non-existent days, listening to my dybbuk's piping music.

Sleeping, I see myself on an operating table, while in a dream and writing to you.

Jonathan Billet

Sleep

"Sleep"

The fall makes me want to fall asleep in brown leaves.

That's why it's called fall.

It's a call to fall asleep with mother nature.

Like my mother took her final sleep in the autumn's rest place.

On the shelf is a shadow of shade.

White particles of filtered sunlight are blocked by a philodendron plant.

Books are collecting dust and resting lazily in a haphazardly manner.

The sunlight hits them at a bent angle.

I love the beautiful, deep, dark, mystery of fall.

By Jonathan Billet

"A monk in a funk is a funky monkey."

-Jonathan Billet

Hidden Shadows

"Hidden Shadows"

 

Do Shadows hide behind doors?

Under floors?

Above the walls?

Through our keyholes?

Are they transmitted on telephone lines?

Did you get a feeling that objects were blocking the sun's shadows?

Or even your own silhouette?

Who are you?

Who am I?

Is Oui us?

Who are we?

What is God?

What is earth?

Are we made of God's artwork?

Statues with motion and movement?

Emotions with laughter and tears?  

Are we a dream?

A daydream?

God's dream?

A dog's dream?

Part of someone else's dream?

A violent storm with ups and downs?

Do we bounce and not walk?

Do we slide?

Let things go?

Born again yesterday.

Quite new!

Like winter's shivering cold snow?

Colors red and purple?

Head for your comforting warmth of shelter and heat.

I can see only through my naked eyes.

We are all naked in the eyes of God.

All of God's creatures are naked.

Naked they talked, walked, slept, and lived.

Black mirrors reflect the earth's darkness.

Hidden shadows reflected everything.

Can you see yourself in your own shadow?

Mine?

Ours?

By Jonathan Billet

My deepest sympathies to the Kennedy family on behalf of beloved Kara. 

The spirit will always live on in my life.

Love,

 Jonathan Billet

Clinged Starchy

"Clinged Starchy"

Life goes by so quickly, you can't see the money pass.
Dylan was right - Money don't cuss - it cries.
People walk down Wall Streets in their dresses smoking cigars - chatting to themselves.
Even thought I saw Bush and Obama holding hands on Main Street in Centerville.
Dancing to a tune by a Bubble Gum Rapper Named Elvis.
Did the Tennessee Waltz in the ocean God made with his pee.
Drowned by God's tears in my laughter -
Swam from N.Y. to China and back in the tears.
Got pissed off.
Peed on too.
Whoever you are, I'm sorry I'm so crazy.
Making a living, while never for giving or getting.
I feel sorry for myself.
I'm happy with the blues.
I know I'm wrong -
Please try and forgive.
I always knew you were greater than you claimed to be.
Your greatness was my weakness.
Try to understand.
Thanks God.
Love a friend named Billet's
 

By Jonathan Billet

Modified Starchy 9/14/11 

Untitled Poem

"Untitled Poem"

No sounds were heard, not even chirping birds.

Not heaven's spoken words.

He sees things - but who doesn't?

The roaring of the ocean is silent and He strains to listen.

He doesn't even listen.

Drunker then hell and stoned sober at the same time.

If it wasn't for The Mother's Father - Life would not know Him.

He believes colors have their own sounds.

And the colors are music to his ears.

He's out in the cold - teeth chattering and face turning blue.

To Him the robin is red.

Leaves are purple.

The soil is blue.

And buildings are a different hue in his view.

The sky is in black and white like the television in the sites.

Up, up, and away are his flights with many colors' lights.

To Him the blood he feels through His veins is all in other brains.

It is as grey as this cloudy day.

He loves to be held.

Laughs when He is.

To Him life is a dream He can't understand.

His wish is my demand!

He's really not interested in such matters.

He loves the world unlike many of his brothers and sisters.

This child of mine is happy that He can eat.

Satisfied to stay cool when it's hot and warm when it's cold.

God loves you my beautiful one!

Billet - dedicated to a most loved one. 

Sunday - June 19th.

Untyping Written Writing

"Untyping Written Writing"

I take away all the licenses from kids who run lemonade stands and support the bums who use squeegee sponges to wash dirty cars.  Smoke my cigar while eating caviar from a mayonnaise jar.  I am resting my head on a pillow and sun tanning myself on a bench in Westchester County.  My Mac was fried at McDonald's and I bumped into Harry Burrito on Chatsworth Avenue.  In the summertime heat I'm like a Polar Bear getting a chilly reception at all the ice cream shops in suburbia. I'm always running to the local bank to get my free supply of pens.  I love to flick my Bic, as I can't afford a Mont Blanc like all the big shot executives.

Oh me! Oh my! Come si, come ça. Ra Ta, Ta.  God Ra!  How far do we go?  Let our garden grow! We're painting the sun just for fun.  Chair is picking at my rear and my nose is so red, it could explode.  Life is not to be taken seriously, but with a grain of pepper, which will make all the noses blow up.  Blow up in my face, then I'd be in another place in this outer space.  I hate the masters' race.  They have problems concentrating and belong in summer camps for the winter.

Doc, perform an anal-ectomy on my head and try to find a brain.  At vocational school I wanted to be a cowboy, a ship's captain, or an Indian chief.  I didn't know the difference and still can't understand it.  This life is like a libation in a movie's cartoon animation.  P.S. Don't try opening windows with bent forks.

Dedicated to Jake

From Jon Billet

Cab Ride

"Cab Ride"

A Jade Buddha picked me up in his taxicab.  We rode to The Hilly City across The Red Bridge's Golden Bay.  He told me the Divine Being's heart was full of joy and happy contentment, like those of the enlightened few.  The Wise One has a soul full of knowledge and tolerance.  Through love's strength comes a divine wisdom.  He let me go to pursue my travels to Tibet, where I found My Sage's Monastery on a Himalayan Mountaintop.


Billet's

Curiosity Quote

"Curiosity Quote"

"The mind is a curious thing."

By Jonathan Billet

Living In Larchmont

"Living In Larchmont"

I have been living in the town of Larchmont for the past five odd years.  I have been living with 3,000 women, 2,070 men, 1,000 dogs, and I estimate 575 cats of all different ages, sizes, and shapes.  I live with about 40 stores and dozens of eateries of all types.  At first, I found it hard after living alone in a White Plains studio.  Still, sometimes I find myself feeling alienated and lonely.  Whoever you may be, stranger, I'd appreciate it if you would shake a hand or wag a tail.

Love a friend named Jon Billet

Written Writing

"Written Writing"

Someone asked me when I started writing.  My response was, just about the same time I started reading.  I have been writing with serious intent for about three years.  God will give me more time as each writing gets better and more to my sages' liking.  I am one of the many people of the world.  A world's student and humble servant.  I am one only.

You are my Lord, Dudet.  You have no monetary value to me.  In my book, you are priceless.  I owe your world my life.  I write to phrase the obvious, which is really the most hidden of all secrets.  Should opportunity come knocking, don't you ever let it close on you.  Stay as holy as you will always be to me and the world.

With Love In His Heart,

Captain Moonlight alias

Jonathan Billet    

Thin Air

"Thin Air"

Life, like its possessions, gets either lost or rots.

Sounds have silent shapes, and sizes, like shadows.

Sunlight has a mood and it's happy and cheerful.

Life don't go away to stay but shows up another day to play.

The heart is the singer of the band.

The seasons have felt emotions.

Like people do.

Fall - thoughtful and pensive.

Spring - happy and new.

Summer - light and airy.

Winter - closed and dark as death.

Comedy, like the seasons, makes us laugh and love.

Sadness makes us weary and sad.

A clown is funny - a town - punny.

The sun - sunny.

Runny races - funny faces.

This deck of cards is full of flying aces.

All things need spaces and new places to occupy time.

Light needs dark.

Darkness needs light.

Black needs white.

White needs black.

The artist needs black, white, and blue.

I need you!

Your kind friendship.

I want love.

I'm a baby!

Have to burp and fart.

Hiccups can kill!

Yawns are contagious.

I knew a man who broke out in yellow polka dots.

Rages of laughter and fits of anger.

I rode a balloon out of Oz.

A cannonball out of the sky with the Baron Von Munchausen.

A chair doesn't have a step or stair.

A bald Polar Bear has no hair.

You're the itch of a pun.

Not a son of a bitch.

A Lark not a Kent.

The moisture's white clouds make the tree barks wet.

The birds drink the earth's clean waters.



Love U - Master Mater
Jonathan Billet 9/8/11

Words

"Words"



I build words for a living of love.

Like the builder builds his house brick by brick.

Mine is built word by word.

Step by step, word by word.

Trying to create beautiful words until I can finish a sentence.

Take my voyage and complete a book of sentences.

With the world's help I'll be able to see and write as I travel through my life.

Would like to send a message through my media like others do through theirs.

Through my thoughts of life, I view others and the world around me.

I can feel their feelings and ideas only through my own.

I am a blind clairvoyant, only able to see what I can.

My loneliness makes me feel trapped at times, and liberated at others.

The isolation keeps words unspoken, tranquil, and peaceful.

This company gets me so lonesome for companionship that it tends to make me mad.

Need people's and the world's company despite their flaws.

Like food, water, and space I need them to them to give me the things only they give.

Sharing is caring.

I would like to write the universe's still unspoken words.

Yo escribo las palabras en mi cabeza que hablo.

Amo tu!


J. Billet's alias Captain Midnight, Col. Corn Flake, Don Juan,
Flatop Celeryhead, Jon Billygoat, J.D. Billet, Dr. Sigmund Fudd M.D.,
Douglas Sir Arthur, and all the other lousy names in the universe.

Dear Letters

Dear Letters,


         Besides a catchy name and matching face, what do we know about the people "Representing" us?  They think and look like we do.  This is uncanny in my opinion.  They almost know what we're thinking - it's their business to know.  We really don't know the first thing about any of them.  When was the last time you actually spoke to one of these people?


         "The Message Is My Medium."  That's from the 60's.  It's turned from a TV event into a major Hollywood production.  Congress and Senate performing drama on their house's floors.  TV and radio stations catching the most dramatic parts of this comedy.  The actors being paid heft sums by unknown agents for services rendered. 

Jon Billet

A-1 Sauce That You Are

"A-1 Sauce That You Are"

Life is on the house.

Pays and costs.

When I'm with you, the ocean's seagulls do summer salts.

Crying tears of happiness and swimming to foreign shores in them.

Get pleasures from your timeless treasures.

I'm a lonely but sanctimonious ship.

Sometimes, I get caught in the heady stuff.

We eat it... Out! Oui!! Oui!!!... Love...... You and Me

Places are always floating in my head.

Love when old music turns new.

When my gums chew.

When heaven doesn't backfire on me.

If God's not blue, and neither are you.

You're a hostess to me.

The perfect parasite.

We share karma in our pleasurable paradise.

Love us both.

Love life.

You bring the world joy.

Love is returned to me.

Jonathan Billet's

The Fastest Day

"The Fastest Day"




The fastest day is a most fun one.


Experience astounds me.


Each day I grow ten days smarter, which is pretty good for a slow starter.


Eh, Eh, Oh, Oh, Uh huh - Solid rock of seconds - get lost in a moving moment.


Divide and multiply as seconds fly by - this is called "United Mutation"


No fake or unreasonable anticipation.






Still got chips what are bigger than my shoulders.


Full of bull - but it's okay. I'm a Taurus.






........ Thanks for writing!


Haven't gotten my first pair of shoes yet.


When I do, I'm going to run around and play. 


I'll learn to write and read things about living and life.


I've just begun to open my eyes and breathe.


Mi Dio ... I'm so young and new.


Much joy and sun to share from my silent days in the womb.




Jonathan Billet

Woke Up Too Late Last Night

"Woke Up Too Late Last Night"

Woke up too late last night and thought Saturday was Sunday.

Tuesday thought it was Friday and Monday thought it was Wednesday.

Pens thought they were paper and cheese thought it was broccoli.

The snow thought it was rain and of course, the turtles thought they could sing.

August thought it was February and the bears thought it was time to hibernate in july.

The greedy thought charity was for "nobody but me."

Everybody was living pretty normal lives except the enlightened few.

The bars began serving 7 Ups and supermarkets began selling dog food to the rich.

To cure the world's ills and wash away the sins, watermelons were dumped in boiling oil.

The oceans turned to lakes so that all could drink.

Mountains turned into feasts of treats so the people could eat.

Sickness turned into health and old age turned to youth.

Cars disappeared and people rode bicycles and walked to get wherever they were headed.

The air became clean and the cities turned into forests.

People moved off the reservation and out of the hood and into the new wilderness.

Chimpanzees conducted the philharmonic and guerillas painted masterpieces. 

There was no need for laws and accidents, such as starvation and war, were the only crimes.

When they weren't eating, people slept or made love.

The children played and danced all day to magical musical tunes.

People shared all the love they possessed.

This all happened because the world grew tired in its weariness.

I woke up late enough to see this all happening.

Jonathan Billet 07/07/2010

Art Work

"Art Work"

Painting a few nails.

Drawing feet.

Coloring a body.

Shaping the face.

Adding hairs.

To this living, nude model, nothing compares.

Painted like a fresh, tropical treat.

An outlandish beat.

A blue tropical punch drink's lunch.

Making its colors' music insane and quite inane.

My tender body frame.

Quite a flame!

All a new name.

Never the same.

It's hard not to maintain.

Like a stained glass window pane.

Jonathan Billet

Secret

"Secret"

Why would I write I wish the stars would reveal the secrets they
share with the universe, with you, unless I was peculiar?

Are these the same secrets a chair shares with a table?

Leaders share with their people?

A dog shares with its master?

Secrets are never revealed unless they are not secrets.

Citizens don't know top secrets.

Sometimes they are so top secret that nobody knows them.

Not even the leaders.

Why doesn't a bird know to cross at a red light?

It's a secret's mystery.

Who tells a blind person that the lights are on?

I forgot what you were going to say.

What were we talking about?

I forgot.

Was it another one of those secrets?

A true secret is kept only among enlightened people.

Secrets are kept only among two people.

Don't tell anyone else.

There is no speaking among them.

Only writing.

Secrets are really insane!

                                    Love Billet 

Why Does The World?

"Why Does The World?"

Why does the world have so much to share and I have so little to spare?

Ocean wave roars against surrounding shores.

Nature has never made more sense.

I will find God's door, only to end up 10 feet under earth's floor.

A joke, but not a real one, a faked laugh.

To a place you've never been before is where I'll send you and we'll meet as one.

Love you more than all the galaxies' planets, stars and suns.
Is this the cruel judge's pun?
Or a game we play for fun?

For me none.

Just a water gun.




Jonathan Billet

My Persian Brother

"My Persian Brother"

Oh, Persian Caliph, you lived with the Monks.  New questions lead to old answers; they are the beginning of an end.  You took a Hajj to the Taj Mahal with Buddhist monks.  We smelled the tears of grief in The Dead Sea at The Great Salt's City.  They put you under arrest after the Revolution.  To this, only God can attest.  We learned what love is in Paris.  Knocked heads on the hilly streets of The Red Gate's Golden Bay.  Strike!!!!!!!!  But Against Nobody But Yourself!  Can't You Really See Who You Are, My Czar?

Unspoken Words in S.F.

Circa 1973 - J. Billet

Bill Declares Peace On War

"Bill Declares Peace On War"




Are you going to let that colorful woman, Tropical Irene into your life or let her go?


What the hell gives you the right to be so kind and loving towards me?  Thanks for being such a buddy.


It's nobody's fault but my own that I am what I am.  Sometimes I even wonder if that's true.


Everything gets lousy when I get angry.  I really am quite a happy and fortunate soul.  Thanks God.


Maybe standing with a whole bunch of different colored balloons.  Helium filled plastic situated in various locations at unique heights in this photograph.


If you would like to throw out a thought for me, feel free to do so.  I'll always be there to catch it!


You are my interpretation of inside insight.  Love you always.


Sometimes I feel I've known you since I was in my playpen.


Don't you believe anything and don't believe it then either.


You poison my soul with sweetness.  I have a mouthful of cavities and a body full of red, raspberry, rash.


It's really not too clear to me what I'm writing about.


Imagine your worst nightmare amplifies by a million, playing in your head.  It's angered fear trying to kill you.  How to I react to this?

Hug Me My Friend,

I'm Scared

Love You - Jonathan Billet