An Ode To A Goddess

                              "An Ode To A Goddess"

Some Flowers are so beautiful it's hard to believe they're alive.

Women are a miraculous phenomena of existence.

Are men an aberration of life?

Some surmise so.

I really don't know.

A few people think life is a bad show.

But I think heaven's fruits and vegetables are a culinary treat.

It's neat to drink from the cosmic skies' seat.

There are tasty pieces of fishy meat.

And many a Christmas Eves' quiet Santa's feet.

Life is a beautiful thing in creation's place.

Stuck in a fortunate time's space.

But it's quick in its grace.

Death has a different pace.

The masked face.

It's a frigid hell in ultra violet's space.

By Jonathan Billet 10.29.2014

Recurring Dreams

                                                 "Recurring Dreams"

Tripping over my shoestrings.

Tied up in knots.

Smoking white clouds in my blue room.

It's drizzling lemonade drops outside the house.

I'm bawling Nelly, a French mare.

In my queen green bed covered with pink satin sheets.

I look out of the orange curtains to the Martian desert's landscape below.

A hippo stands alone outside my door.

The world is in a paper bag.

Mind traveling to the ancient city of Luxor where I see an Egyptian man.

Has tattoos colored with hieroglyphics.

Took a bus to Thebes, near the pyramids.

Carnations and roses adorn the steps.

Green vines hang down from them.

A sparrow sees a baby child and looks almost as curiously at it, as the child looks at the bird.

They are both snacking on brunch.

I wake up from my dream.

Just in time for Halloween. 

There is a parade of ghosts and goblins going on in my town.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!iii!!!

By Jonathan Billet 10.28.2014        

Until Heaven Freezes Over

                        "Until Heaven Freezes Over"

It's so cold in here.

I feel like jumping out of my feet's shoes.

The sun sits and cries.

It flies and then dies.

In my mask's guise.

A subtle wise.

Why does the sun die?

Sitting so high beyond a cloudy sky.

In the day's midnight June.

A Jupiter's winter's mid afternoon.

Just listening to a singer's love tune.

Playing this beautiful tune sitting on top of a starlit moon.

The mesmerizing musician's croon.   

Alone, lost in a place, outside inner space.

By Jonathan Billet

October 26, 2014         

My Rhythm's Rag

"My Rhythm's Rag"

Swing your toes.

Knees clapping.

Backs slapping.

Toes are tapping.

Elastic plastic bras are snapping.

Right into place.

They fit comfortably in space.

The heart of a poker's ace.

Diamond prisms heart's club fan.

Who am I?

Are I you?

What hue are you?

Black and blue?

Swinging true?

Golden, olden, new?

Am I anything to you?

The turning of a screw.

I want you to to do a frontal view.

And then dance backwards too.

There aren't enough poses of you.

There are far too few.

Love everything about you!

By Jonathan Billet- 10.24.2014        

Salt & Pepper

"Salt & Pepper"

I spotted a salt shaker half full of salt.

It was on the tile's floor near a door.

In my town's local cafe.

What was it doing there?

Did it want me to pick it up and throw it over my shoulder for good luck?

There are different sizes and shapes of salt and pepper shakers.

With different amounts of salt and pepper in each, according to their importance.

Some pawns, rooks, kings, queens, and other chess pieces, too.

The tiles in formation of a giant chess board.

Some of them have pepper shakers and others have salt shakers on each squared tile.

A few pieces just knocked down, to the side.

A game of chess for me to play while the cafe is empty?

By whose authority?

The coffees, teas, and bagels?

Is this a Fort Knox with bagels, cream cheese, and lox?

No, it's not.

But it's a lot to think of a seemingly innocent cafe.

Or as a forum for a worldly game!!!iii!i!i!i...

Have I gone mad?

A refugee fleeing his country, on a boat in the middle of the ocean for days on end.

Without food or water.

Could I be having nightmares?

I can only pray not to be part of that unfortunate lot.

Again I think the world is toying with my mind.

In something it forgot and left behind.

This charade never seems to end.

Where only the downtrodden will suffer.

As lost as you may find yourself.

The world will keep spinning on its own axis.

Try a new beat.

Until the heat freezes over.

And the universe begins to weep.

When it awakens from its loud sounding sleep.

By Jonathan Billet 10.27.2014        

For Andrea's Writing To Me

"For Andrea's Writing To Me"

I am not my number one fan.

As a matter of fact I am last on my list.

I mean I find it impossible to live with.

To tolerate me takes patience and strength I don't possess.

I read the newspapers, listen to the news, and pick up on living dreams experiences.

You do me the favor of writing this mixed up garbage, which is in my mind, for me.

I throw up and out my puke and you turn it into something which is tasteful.

Nonsense to sense.

You the intricate modern day computer, and me, a player piano of long ago.

The first attempts at corrected grammar on my part.

Your correction of that first and last pathetic venture.

You are always an adventure to difficult for me to understand.

Beyond all my comprehension.

Not to mention, you are a true mother of invention.

Me the stupid, clever, magical piano player.

You, the shrewd genius who like your apple computer has all the piano's notes in stored memory.

You are a woman I care for more than my poor life.

My life is like a fopaux, 

An error in my parent's judgement.

Your life, unlike mine, has a meaningful purpose.

I love you Andy.

Jon Billet 10.29.2014        

To Andrea

"To Andrea"

Andrea, thanks to God a billion stars over that you are my friend.

Thank a whale's spout and shark's teeth for you.

Your very existence is a miracle's movie on the big screen of life's wonder.

Your heart is forever under and above an unbelievable poem's musical dream.

You are real to me or so it appears to seem in love's scheme.

Tinkering with the children's toys' wonderland in my mind.

If there is a God then He must be you.

You are all and everything, sweetness.

You'll always have a special place in my heart.

You transcend all art.

You make my walls collide.

And I will forever be by your side in my heart's inside.

Love you forever, as if there is no never.

Love and by your special friend-

Jon "Billy" Billet On October 20, 2014 

A Fleeces Feces

 "A Fleeces Feces" 

Bells palsied in a dream.

I don't know what happened to me.

My face was distorted.

Space was contorted.

I couldn't see correctly.

I tried to visualize a field with a head of cows grazing on grass.

But it seems all I am is a big pain in my ass named Mister Tush.

I haven't got a lot of pull, but plenty of push.

I'll make love to you behind the strawberry bush.

It's warm behind this suit and mask.

Blueberry skies and starlit skies.

All of life's highs.

A man sits down and cries.

He goes and dies then he flies.

Through my eyes' disguise.

Next door the cooks are making chicken pies.

The dogs are chewing on the bovines' bow ties.

The gamblers are losing all the house's hundreds, fifties, tens, and fives.

Making plenty of tries and telling their wives white lies.

Their alibis in a soft song's lullabies.  

By Jonathan Billet

10.19.2014        

A Promise I Can't Sleep On

                        "A Promise I Can't Sleep On"

I can promise you this and nothing more. Like a politician,

I make promises I can't keep.  A promissory note is good

for the fools who believe it.  The politician's guarantee is

as good as the foul money he has been given that is sticking

outside his fat pockets.  He listens to nobody but the few 

who line his pockets with cash.  "In cash he trusts."  Like the

gusts of hot air that float by. It makes me forget to cry. 

We all just live and die never getting a piece of the pie!!!...

The politicians' high.  Forever the lie.       

No Title

"No Title"

Nelly & Roxy have a lot of moxie foxy!

In a dream my face is contorted but I don't feel my mind is.

In a disease of the right clavicle dream state.

It must be clairvoyance.

Called Bells Palsy by the neurosurgeon.

Mud puppies' flying fish are known as mud skippers.

But they can't skim a rock.

Unless taken out of hock.

In Who's Who In America.

Charlie was a fixer not a mixer.

I was a five not a sicker sixty.

It all depends on how long you can last!

Slowing fast.

Everything's past.

Have to take my medications now.

So slow to go.

And usually show.

Don't need a rusty needle to sew.

Just go with the tide's flow.

Don't ask me, I don't know.

By Jonathan Billet 10.19.2014

Existence In Time

"Existence In Time"

Time goes by quickly.

You can never catch up to it.

You sleep in it.

A gifted blind seer. 

Seeking your existence.

Seeing time.

Time is existence.

Mankind will be extinct in a short million years.

So sleep well in this dream you and I share.

We share this dream with all of the world's people. 

Love the dream you choose to live.

And live the life you choose to dream.

Jon Billet...-Rewritten 10.18.2014

A Disease

                    "A Disease"

The monkey man's got a disease on T.V.

Suffering from Bell's Palsy.

A troubadour's mind.

Lightened at the speed of sound.

In a twilight's new verse.

Not at all terse.

In what appear to be the funeral dirge.

An electrical shock's surge.

Words not spoken but heard.

By those few who can listen.

The calling shooting stars glisten.

Everything will be to seem.

Nothing is heard by a scream.

Not too soon to be eating a strawberry moon.

With a plastic spoon.

On a beach's sand dune.

In late June.

By Jonathan Billet 

10.15.2014

Your Thought On Fracking?

                            "Your Thought On Fracking?"

My head is fracked.

The earth is cracked.

Cracking and fracking dead.

A smuck once said.

If I go to bed, will I wake up instead of being the color red.

Can I drive away on a toilet seat's moped?

How can my world be fed?

If it won't conform to the norm?!?i?i?i?...

A bit of incensed nonsense!i!i!i!i!...

Do away with the winter's storm.

Be in good form.

Stay for the spring's morn'!!!!...

By Mister Moonlight alias Jon Billet.👂👂👂...iii        

Your Executive Account's Fiduciary Fund

"Your Executive Account's Fiduciary Fund"

We would like it if you would set up a guaranteed executive retirement

account. We guarantee the warranty in small print which is kept confidential

by us.

C.C.-Wall Street, The U.S. Congress, and the Executive Branch.

by Jonathan Billet -

Monday The 13th

10.13.2014

       

Dear War

Dear War,

Why don't you stop digging graves all around the world and

start digging them in your own backyard? There's always

room in your neighborhood's cemetery plot.

Yours Truly,

Jonathan Billet alias Captain Moonlight

Fila Shoes

                                          "Fila Shoes"

Is this a figment of my filament's shoes?

In a light bulb's socket?

Or just my imagination?

I found an orange tennis ball under my pillow.

Put the feathers in the pillow case.

Skipped over an art beat's attack.

Placed the chestnuts in the sack and buried the acorns in the back.

Dried helium in a balloon and it rained water in the water tank.

Flooded the tile floors of white and blue.

Did he paint his shoe a rainbow's hue?

Is this poem new to you?

To Andrea:

By Jonathan Billet 10.16.14

Designated Driver

"Designated Driver"

I was hitchhiking in Alabama.

Got detoured by 40,000 years.

In a dark shadow's summer lights.

Stayed up for nights.

Below a bridge and up in heaven.

In heaven white night.

The water fills the Red Bridge's horizons.

All in a single night's dream.

The flowers grow at an unbelievable speed.

So I'll just feed my dog on weed.

Even got an extra seed.

So I'm doing my good deed.

Living a dead man's dream.

Orange basketballs with shaving cream.

Thought of it at the banks of the stream.

This dream is not what it may seem.

So if you can't hear me, let out a scream.

A mime has no time.

The today's tomorrow.

So let the Victrola play a love song's say...

By Jonathan Billet 10.06.2014

Timing's Rhyming's

"Timing's Rhyming's"

The click toking of a heart beat clocking.

Rolling and rocking with foxy Roxy.

A new born day is always here to get its way.

We have no say when time comes and slows.

It stops and goes.

Introducing me to a magical song I can hear through my ear.

I'm a sighted seer.

Wish to God I was freer.

In this world's sea of constipation's fear.

High on too much beer.

By Jonathan Billet-10.06.2014

The Loony Bin

"The Loony Bin"

I'm resting on 2 South.

Thinking that I'm lying on clouds painted green, purple, orange, and yellow.

In a sky of a darkly painted tinted color blue.

I dream in a sleep.

I am reigning over the world on top of the uppermost of clouds.

Practicing living like it's the first and last day of existence for me.

Doing the hospital tricks.

Even smoking in their yard.

At The Princeton towers.

In Jersey.

Over George Washington's bridge.

I've traveled over it many times in the past.

But this was the first time I flew over its rainbow.

I'll be living here on 2 South without the slightest idea of what time is.

Building bridges to my former sanity.

Only to leave this institution and travel by train to San Francisco.

Where I can avoid The Jersey Towers' seasons.

Winter, Spring, Summer, And Fall.

By Jonathan Billet's 10/04/2014     

Names I Call The Universe

"Names I Call The Universe"

Dudettes.

A hermit named Kermit.

A dinosaur who goes by Rex.

A soap called Ivory.

Singer known as Bob Dylan.

Country named America.

Continent also Mid East.

A poet named Mr. Tush who didn't have a foot to stand on.

Cosimo the Barber.

Patricia the waitress.

Bacon and Eggs, the food.

Coca-Cola the drink.

The Town of Larchmont.

Aroma Cafe.

David Nadelson.

Half and half.

The cities of White Plains and San Francisco.

Herbal green tea-iced.

Guys named Doug, Bruce, George, Nick, and Tony.

W.N.P.R., W.F.U.V., and Me T.V. - Channel 15.

My apartment.

My Doctor Lask.

My Social Worker - Connie.

The secretary, Sandy.

President Obama.

Christmas.

Yom Kippur.

Halloween.

Mark Twain.

Charles Dickens.

A poet named Charles Bukowski.

Black Nepalese Hashish.

Riker's Island.

Westchester Reform Temple.

End - JON BILLET 09.30.2014

Political Viewpoint

"Political Viewpoint”

Don’t vote for presidents.

Vote for the local officials.

That way we know exactly what we are getting.

I’m going through a dark phase of post press disorder.

Mania’s recessive tendencies.

Scratch me where I itch.

The scratchy itch comes and goes.

Shrinks and grows.

The moon flips under the seas to take a midnight’s dips.

I sleep under covers in my freezing room.

Took a moon bath early this morning in my best suit.

Slept under The Great Salt Lake.

Bawled in my bed.

My position is your decision.

Mark Twain never met Steve Carolan.

“Never The Twain Shall Meet.”

Is this factual or a myth?

What makes you so great?

I enjoy and appreciate everything you have done for us!

I worked with Major Wright.

Every days.

Do you know who’s fighting with me?

By Jonathan Billet

09/29/2014

A Poet Dreams

"A Poet Dreams"

I'm mind dreaming.

To stop the screaming of my brain cleaning.

Brain washing dream that I get every night.

Dreaming I'm at Purchase College watching absorbing and enthralling theater.

Painted the models acting in a dream's play.

Like a hibernating bear, I'm soaking the Indian Summer's sunshine.

I'll keep the heat with me all Winter long.

A dancing bear in a Russian circus' seasonal dance.

Your reflected shadowed eyes scattered through the skies.

A warmth you have that heats up the sun.

Keeps my mind very lively.

Your friendship helps me survive.

Thanks for being alive.

Love you my friend.

By Jonathan Billet

09.28.2014         

Dear Dena

DEAR DENA,

I FIND THE BEST COMMANDERS ARE THOSE WHO CONTAIN

PEOPLE AND SITUATIONS THROUGH LOVING KINDNESS AND

A LOUD VOICE WHEN NECESSARY.  SPEAK SOFTLY AND CARRY

A BIG GUN.  AS THE SHERIFFS SAID IN THE WILD WEST.  A BULLSHITTER

KNOWS THEY CAN ONLY BULLSHIT OTHER BULLSHITTERS.  AND LET'S

FACE IT, EVERYBODY'S A BULLSHITTER THESE DAYS.  THAT'S HOW A FOOL

RULES.  OR ARE THEY REALLY THE SALT OF THE EARTH?  I TRY NOT TO 

LOSE MY TEMPER, BUT WHAT DO I KNOW ABOUT CONTROL? I'M WITH

CHAOS NOT CONTROL.  CONTROL HAS TO BULLSHIT CHAOS ON OCCASION.

THAT'S A GIVEN.  COOL HEADS WILL ALWAYS PREVAIL EXCEPT IN BAD

TIMES SUCH AS NOW!!!...ONLY THE STRONG SURVIVE.  I'M JUST A 98 LB. 

WEAKLING.  AND ANGRY WEAKLINGS GET NOWHERE IN THIS WORLD.

I'D LIKE TO TELL ANOTHER SOB STORY FOR U BUT DON'T HAVE TIME.

PLEASE LIBERATE ME AND TELEVISE MY POETRY.  

REGARDS JON BILLET

AKA. CAPTAIN MOONLIGHT ALIAS ZEKE ZUCCHINI. 

P.S. THROUGH THEWORLD'S MISERY IT FINDS LIBERATION.   THROUGH OPPRESSION IS FOUND LIBERATION.  SEE NELSON MANDELA AS AN EXAMPLE.