Who'd You Say You Were?

"Who'd You Say You Were?"

Dreamed I was in bed and screamed.

Thought I was in a barber's chair imbibing.

Fell through the floor to the earth below.

To Daily Square in Dallas, Texas on November 22, 1963.

It was pouring rain and the top  of the President's Limo was down.

The roof was bulletproof and the shots misfired.

Stone Cellar's Merlot.

Don't even know if it's Mano, Mano, Manochevitz.

Snoop ears droop.

Snooze smells the blues from too much booze.

Fish after a birthday wish.

Nonsense's cosequence's incidences.

Dirty wordy.

Somewhere in my past-present I hung around a Purchase student.

An actor named Bud and his buddy Nick.

He had an apt. and I used to go there at 5:00 A.M.

My late nights with the Zerox machine at I.B.M. in Purchase.

We used to hang around the Candlelight Bar.

The three of us used to watch The Honey Mooners.

Late night at Bud's apartment.

I want more colllege!

Bud was studying acting at Purchase University in 78'.

Fourteen dollars for a hamburger!...

They even got automatic elevator operators.

Cross them and you're out on the roof!i!i!i!.

By Jonathan Billet

Busted Up Heart

"Busted Up Heart"



A plastic cup can have hips that can make the boys do flips.

A box can have a locks, clocks have locks, and rocks lock times up.

I rock n' roll in what you have stolen.

I played the part of the fool with the broken heart.

Stepped on me like an ant.

I hate to love to rave and rant.

But it breaks my heart in two as I walk with you.

I am without you, tears falling from the eyes of purple skies.

You're a blessing in disguise.

The way you never compromise.

Music from above thin air interrupts this love.

The love we share to nothing compares.

It's only fair not to be square.

Rare on the dare!


By Jon Billet

Tropical Design

"Tropical Design"



Transparent, invisible, musical, wandering, luminous butterfly.

Casting a shadow on his weary fellow traveler in the sun.

On the way to the watering hole full of glass rocks that jut out like crystals.

To listen to shrill yells as the pond's waters ripple like ocean tides.

Against the glass rocks of crystal in the deep blue sea.

Dolphins clap and laugh in the cold ocean's glimmering sunshine.

Fishing boats pull in their nets full of fish in this Bahamian paradise.

The day's catch is almost done in the golden, tropical, setting sun.

The day is complete except for the lovers behind a bright, white sheet.

The mountains are full of sleet and it's hard to keep on one's feet.

In a dream of deep sleep.

                           
By Jon Billet 03/06/13
      

Dry High

"Dry High"

I can't talk the jive but I'm very good at writing it.

Don't even know how to talk and I don't bother listening.

I'm petrified of the dark.

The only way I can explain it is with lights on.

Do you know what the hell I'm writing about?

Because I forgot.

It'll all come back to me in a dream.

I was born for so many centuries.

I've been dead for a thousand decades.

Living and dying every day of a year.

A toast to my ghost.

I can't paint a picture of a saint but a sinner I ain't.

I still can make a maiden faint.

            Love Jon Billet 02/28/13