Worldly Goods

“Worldly Goods”

Song, dance, and fine wine are ageless.

Life on earth is treated like cheap dirt.

It’s really a gift given to us all for some amount of time.

We pay for it.

It pays to cost.

To breathe is costly but it’s worth the expense.

Nothing in life is free, including love.

Life is for the living.

Don’t let it short circuit you.

While we are alive, most of the world has been deceased.

Seconds are death and an eternity of sunshine’s are for the enlightened ones.

Please don’t die on me again, life.

Give me your cosmic time.

I love only you.

J. Billet’s – 1/24/12

Striving In The Sun

"Striving In The Sun"

God is you.

You are God.

So is the sun.

It's a hundred million to one.

The correct time is zero past five.

Be sure to arrive in salvation's struggle to stay alive.

Strive and always thrive in life's beautiful hardship to survive.

By Jonathan Billet- Revised on 01/30/2014

Little Lloyd Fonterloy

"Little Lloyd Fonterloy"

Mr. Manny Or Lloyd or whoever.

Are you a "pansy who sells flowers?"

A "made" member of the Junior Cosa Nostra?

You drive in a bug and listen to "After Bathing At Baxters."

It's never too late.

You hung around the Fillmore's Scarsdale High School.

Taking photos with Cher.

A child of The Merry Gangsters.

Where did you pick up your I.D.?

At Starbuck's?

I saw you at the bar on Central Avenue with the pinball machine and junkies.

What about that phony Miami Suntan you got in a clam box?

You know the one with the microwave gamma rays.

Where were you "made?"

In Taiwan?

By the Chinese underground?

You were in the Bee 3.

You could have been a "Beedle Contender."

Your claim to fame is you arrived from Miami.

You are really a Scarsdale local boy who's dealing with suburbia.

Why don't you go back to directing traffic in parking lots?

By the way, Lloyd and Frank were really Bob's rats.

Jonny you are really full of it!

J.Billet's

"God's laughter are tears in my eyes."

- Jonnie Goldprick

The One Percent

“The One Percent”

They say I’m the millionaire scholar.

When my nickels turn into dimes, I let out a holler.

If you give me one of those dimes, I’ll cut you in for a dollar.

Each minute I grow ten days smarter; not bad for a slow starter!

I’m always departing.

Such a farter.

Dedicated to Morgan Stanley

By Jonnie Goldprick alias Jonathan Billet

"God's laughter is music to my ears."


J. Billet's

Mr. Kasama

“Mr. Kasama”

Say “hello” to Mr. Kasama and he will say “hello” back.

He’s shot to shit, but nobody knows it.

Displays himself out of store’s windows.

Gets his kicks being in his room with translucent walls during a lightning’s storm.

This lights up his life.

The translucent walls of his crash pad are like his translucent sunglasses.

You can see out but you can’t see his eyes in.

They have transparent translucency.

You can’t tell what he’s thinking – but he knows.

Mr. Kasama hangs around your town as you wonder exactly who he is.

Everybody’s wondering, but nobody is telling.

He’s a big sensation.

Nobody knows what he’s got, but everybody wonders.

He’ll astound you with your ignorance of him.

He’s really sharp.

He pretends your life’s a mystery to him.

He’ll pretend anybody – everybody’s a sucker but you and him.

He’s a real question without an answer.

A fortune cookie wrapped in an enigma.

Does he make you curious?

Life’s his secret mystery.

He wonders who he is, more than he wonders who you are.

But he pretends to know what your answers are.

Only God knows who he is.

His secret life is a miraculous wonder.

Really a ?.

Not In Touch alias “Captain Moonlight”

Alias Dr. Sigmund Fudd M.D. or

Edgar Allen Pooh

And Everybody Else In The World

Especially Jonathan Billet

Written On A June’s Moon.

A Word

“A Word”

God has a good sense of humor.

God needs our help.

God needs all the help that can possibly be gotten.

You would too if you were looking at heaven below.

God helps those who help others help themselves.

God feels no pain, only pity.

God cries.

If you loose something, God will find it.

If you’re lost, God will find you.

God loves those who love and ignores those who hate.

God hurts those who hurt themselves.

God’s disciple is life.

God is living.

God is death.

God makes love.

God needs love.

God is sound and silence.

God is hot and God is cold.

God sees all colors, but doesn’t have any.

God’s universal.

God’s for everyone.

God shares with everyone but few share with God.

God shows all secrets to those who care to look.

God’s the great actor.

We are all sightless in the eyes of God.

God lies like a clown on its back, and sees the world upside down.

Love God and God will Love You.

I LOVE YOU GOD,

J.D. BILLET’S

P.S. – What I have forgotten, I know you will always remember!

"Knowledge is the 5 senses multiplied by the null set whereas
creativity is the genuis's  universe." 


Jonnie Goldprick
        

"Life Is Infinity's High."


-Jonnie Goldprick
        

Always In My Heart

"Always In My Heart"

You send me butterflies in the air like the mail.  The T.V. pictures are in yellow and white like a hummingbird or pouched eggs.  People come in different colors like orange, purple, and sometimes blue.  They all have purple blood and bleed in a bright red.  

All the people in Pleasantville's Valhalla talk through their ears and drink the sunshine and cement juice through silver Starbuck's straws.  The blind are sighted and the sighted are blind.  I peered through a peephole in the door.  What I saw, I can't ignore.  Purple cabs, green fire engines, and a yellow train ran through my brain.  Streets of gold and eyes of blue.  I love only you.  You are the sun's August daylight.  One fish.  Two purple-yellow, golden fish.  Your wish is my demand.  They say I come from seas of green teas that were tapped from Sycamore trees.

Love you Sir Mcarthur Douglas 

alias Jonathan Billet's

Romper Room

"Romper Room"

This is about the child's life of adults.  In a state of anger everybody is always in a rush. It's a race to see who can die first.  The good neighbors are constantly bumping into each other, like children do.  They are continually playing games with each other and the world.  They are the latest and the greatest.  Be careful or they'll steal your lunch money.  They drink from the bottles and suck on their pacifiers.  They love being on their cars and trucks.  The teacher keeps them in line.  The kids are the parents in this new age.  They swing with different husbands and wives.  See pennies dropping out of the skies and fight over them.  Always in the baby diapers that never leak.  Their lives are complete.  Always cheat, compete, and lie like children telling stories.  It's the pathway to their future glories.

J. Billet

Second Letter - Writing Again!

“Second Letter – Writing Again!

Am I my best friend’s father or his son?  A shot up his ass will be worth nine in mine within a spacious place’s time.  We hide in the secret mailbox that passes mustard gas.

After 4 years text death, I am writing touchy text in Braille, understood only by each other’s one another.

What you may have heard about me is all true – but not factual – Science Fiction in a kitty litter box.

A new day is really yesterday’s hazy phase of phrase in tomorrow’s next crazed craze on The Globe’s stage.

Did I tell you in one of my poems, I quote the guy saying, “The mind is a curious thing?”  My dybbuk is a spoof’s kook.  A ball busting mind reader’s leader.

Twenty-five years of Frisco and the N.Y. Nassau Coliseum’s Long Island concrete scene and I’m well worn.

After the day hospital, Steve used to drive me up to Maryknoll to watch videos he rented for use:  A guy almost as beautiful as you.  We caught quiet moments of friendship and peace in a more tranquil time.

You – in your working world for a company’s check.  Never, ever, even a dull moment.  Sadder Says to a Sundae’s olden golden catchy tune.

Now I’m playing musical chairs – blowing on Gideon’s horn – drumming on garbage pail tops and praying in the chapel of the seniors’ home town – where it’s a short trip to their resting place.  Me, Myself, and I are in the empty vaults of the unknown.

Mother of Pearl, Father of Swine, all I wanted here was a good time!

Anonymous Bosch

Alias Jonnie Goldpick

Jonny Billet deceased-

To be resurrected and hopefully

corrected by Social Services.

My Dream

"My Dream"

You can dream pretty much anything you want to.  I dreamt I was talking to my father who died several years ago, and he told me he was not really dead.  I was ecstatic and relieved.  I felt an inner sun's rays in my dream’s solitude.  Two days later, I found a 1919 Mercury head dime.  That was the year he was born.  I gave the dime to somebody I love most in this world.

I'm no Dillon.  I do follow leaders and stare at parking meeters.  I'll wake up tomorrow whatever, whether poetically permitting.  All spelling aside.  

The sounds I heard shielded my blind invisibility, like on a translucent lightning storm's light shining through my windows.

Greetings to you, my great.  It's good to be alive when God is on your side – not so good when He's on the other side.  Love a can man.

By Jonnie Goldprick alias Jonathan Billet

              

Shade From Light

"Shade From Light"

The replies you make are the answered questions about your life you were getting ready to ask about.

Life is heavenly bliss.

By the way –

By and by –

Bye-bye –

High-bye –

Lie-high –

Lie-bye –

Sell low but always buy high.

Fly high from the floor with multi-colored lights.

To the sky and from your own rainbow.

The metallic steam drips drops of mercury and glistens in the black sky.

Birds of yellow and white fly by on this summer night.

Daylight comes and a cow is chewing in green grass.

A luftmensch monarch flies overhead below the sun and is flipping its shadowed wings on the bovine's ear.

Bringing heavy drops of tears in a drop of rainfall.

The key that will unlock the world's secret mystery is for all the living to be set free.

Not like we'd prefer to think it to be.

A poet will write about something he knows about, not things he knows nothing about!

Jonnie Goldprick Alias J. Billet

2nd Ice Age

"2nd Ice Age"

It's the middle of August.  I'm wearing ice-cubes in my hairs' dreadlocks. It's 30 below zero.  My nose is dripping and my toes are freezing off and running away.  Cars are racing downhill backwards and hands are frozen to steering wheels.  My fingers are frozen together and my ears are the color of a beet.  Roofs are covered in stalagmites and stalactites, which hang down like they were in a frozen cavern.  It's frigid like an ice folly’s follicles.  Radiators and thermostats are broken and so are records.  People are covered in extra thick blankets.  Those that can afford are close to a fireplace.  Everything is shut and stores are closed for this misunderstood holiday of ice age.  Even ATM's are frozen solid.  The homeless are praying in shrines of ice.  Lights are so cold that filaments are popping and everything is dark black to those who can see.  Most of them are broken.  You can't even light a flame.  Lips are purple and animals are frozen to solid ground, which is as hard as rock.  Cement is cracking, steel girders are buckling, and metals are brittle.  Faucets are frozen and liquids are solids.  There is no heat or escape from this arctic freeze.  Glass and bricks are shattering.  Mirrors are cracking. 7.000.000.00 years of bad luck in this ice age.  There is no sight in end.  Sound itself is distorted because the air's waves have been frozen.  The earth is full of empty silence like an empty desert or forest.  People are afraid to go out of their domiciles because they think they'll expire in the outside. Things have never been lower or higher.  I'm not a buyer of this hell's fire.  They say blood is thicker than ice, but it's no longer true.  The universe is blue in any point of view.  The world's not working right in this devilish cold of night. 

Chef Boy Are Dee Abby Kennedy

Chef Boy Are Dee Abby Kennedy

Not the Kennedy with T.J.'s putter in a tree.


Just the secret double agent named Chef Boy R' Dee.


You're really just a phony Tony Baloney who


Thrives on some pretty strange company.


Please stop telling me what I should see or what to be.


An imaginary child of Dr. Phil and Judge Judy.


More than I ever hoped you would be.


Graduated from the C.I.A. where you got a B.S.A degree in culinary cuisine.


You tripped on phony kryptonite and took your van out West.


All you actors are cooking on the internet T.V.


Crappy chef, you cook books!

By Jonathan Billet

02/03/2010

A Prayer For Yitzhak

"A Prayer For Yitzhak"

The thoughts grow like flowers and flow like rivers and oceans.

Flour Power!

God painted the sky blue and clouds white.

Colors come in flavors like the pallet of God's rainbowed spectrum.

God painted the world with his senses.

God painted humans and animals quite colorfully and uniquely different from one another.

God paints the painters who paint pictures.

Some of God's artwork includes buildings, streets, and nature scenes.

God created everything no matter how big or small.

No two thoughts are exactly alike to God.

All different points of view.

Problems cause solutions and solutions cause problems.

Some plans don't have any other’s plenty.

How much did you get?

Plenty, I'll bet.

Life is to cherish like the prayers God pours in your morning cup of coffee.

God is to love as love is to God.

Love is alive.

So make it!

Emotions make love and hate.

God understands this.

Love's ugly beautiful and beautifully ugly.

The universe took trillions of years to create, which took God 5 minutes.

It's sooner than you think!

God's waiting for you to catch up.

You can do it!

Love,

J. Billet's

Fluorescent Eyes

"Fluorescent Eyes"

The sounds I hear shield blind invisibility like translucent lightning on a rainy window pane. As clear as a muffled shot ringinging out in 63'.  God rode with us in that hearse.  A sightlessshot's aim for such a saddened nation where I was born to my station.  A thundering noise whose sharpness was heard even by the deaf.  Read by God's hand in Braille.  Nobody else could see this clearly spoken.  The tears shed by the birds overhead on that rainy November day in that Texas May.  Get down on your hands and knees and pray in your actor's play.  Oh! God forgive them for they know not what they do.  Swallowing pins in my sleep's dreams, nothing is realer than it seems.  The brothers, bride, and children stood quietly still.  Life was nil.  This empty place in space.  I can hear the screams in these scene's dreams.


 

J. Billet's