All Power To The Numeral Three

"All Power To The Numeral Three"

I get lost in a dream's thought.

Found the world in my dreams.

Lost the sun and stars.

Can't find my poetry in the mind.

Thought I lost it in my pockets.

Unless it was lost in the mail.

The cosmic community may be holding onto it.

Inspires all my desires with its fire.

Sky's high flyer.

Travels by taxi cabby.

By a cat named Abby.

Power to the number three.

What is to be will be.

Fill the salty sea with newer tea.

Silly me, I forgot, although costly, life is free.

But that's hard to see for anybody's reality.

By Jonathan Billet 12/26/2015

FORWARD TO BARNUM!

"FORWARD TO BARNUM!..."

"Julius used to have some pretty good grass."

By BOSCH

Another Christmas Dream Is Here

"Another Christmas Dream Is Here"

A nuisance of a cloud is loud and has been bad.

The sun thinks this is sad.

It gets mad and makes it snow a thick white milk to keep it sane.

All the skies allows.

A passing kitten meows as she drinks the milk from the clouds in heaven above.

This is creation's way of spreading its love.

Sometimes water falls instead of milk.

It makes one think how lucky they might be on a Christmas day.

It's a joyous time of year to be here.

Get loved!

Let the world rejoice, sing songs, and survive, in its hearty drive to stay alive.

By Captain Moonlight On Christmas Day

Mites Make Mysterious Ocean Mates

"Mites Make Mysterious Ocean Mates"

Who makes the most mysterious mates?

I say Mike's mites.

Are they bed mites?

I think not.

But my mattress might disagree.

Sailing in a boat, I actually saw some.

Sweet sally sells seashells by the sea's shore.

But not anymore.

None in store.

Except on the ocean's floor.

By Anonymous Bosch -12.24.2014

Back To The 50's

                                "Back To The 50's"

Back in the 50's Randy smoked a good cigar.

Sue grew a beard at the same time.

I'm wondering if the police will pick me up for smoking cigarettes.

Will the rabbis pick me up for smoking them?

The mob's doctor?

Who is the mob's doctor?

You or I?

Me or we?

R we us?

Am I him?

He is me.

That's plain to see.

Who is she?

My wife's ex-wife?

How does he fit in?

I know he does.

But it's a tight squeeze.

By Jon Billet On Christmas Eve 

Dedicated To Steve

EXACTLY AS IS

"EXACTLY AS IS"

I HOPE MS. ONO WON'T MIND BUT MY POETRY IS MY PINEAPPLE.  NOT MY

BACON. V-6 ROCKETS ARE GOING OFF IN MY HEAD.  SO ARE B-3 BOMBERS

AND STEALTH BOMBERS.  IS IT SAFE TO SAY DRONES ARE TOO RADICAL?

By BOSCH

A Dangling Conversation With The Parents

"A Dangling Conversation With The Parents"

Dangling discussions without words for me.

Words to the wise wear a false disguise.

A television tube lives and dies.

Like the commuter in the train's bar car taking a vacation - a summer day's libation.

Trying to catch the stars on the moon from the planet mars.

Jail bars can't hold the flying mosquito.

Stars shimmy and dangle from mars' moons.

Justice just sail past by us.

Paper airplanes must come in thick plies.

They are reasons for moment's supposition proposition.

Without hesitation at the railroad station.

Going to the last car in the sixties.

Played on a circus' piano by dancing fleas.

Do what they please.

But don't let out a cough because somebody may take it for a sneeze.

And say God Bless them!

By Anonymous Bosch-

12/22/2014

Reverse Of The Obverse

                             "Reverse Of The Obverse"

Don't push, pull the indoors outdoors.

Through Eve's Garden where plenty of pot grows.

Where a green turtle with orange spots and yellow polka dots goes.

Nobody seems to know that the world's nations are losing their patience.

And people are drinking pitchers of wine without any hesitations.

To their feeling's sensations.

It pours wine rain.

My ceiling starts to have a stain.

But my body's brain feels no pain.

The moon is half full and makes the world partially sane.

Turning its consequences inane.

We all share the same name.

Like a good crook inside some book that has no decipherable look.

A robbing in the hood - understood? 

The store no longer has a front door.

Always stealing nickels and dimes.

Wall Street's ups and downs in the white collar holler.

Call me if you will follow a dollar.

Does it really make any sense?

Is gold dense?

By Jon Billet

12.20.2014        

To The World

"To The World"

Terror is something I ignore and abhor.

The sun is cold but its heart is warm.

Beheading will never be the norm.

How long can we endure this storm?

We will roar and even the score.

One, two, three, four, knocking at hell's door.

The keys were stolen.

Try to inspire!i!i!i!i!i!

Don't fan the world's flaming fire.

Prologue:

The moon will arise and arise for as long as the sun sets.

And the world upsets.

It will skinny dip in a sea of frozen tea.

Scares me!!!

Love and by Jonathan Billet 12/19/2014       

Syncopated Tooth

                                   "Syncopated Tooth"

I had to pay off the tooth fairy for a syncopated tooth.

A chip that went off the blip.

Like a poem, a syncopated tooth is priceless.

So we had to haggle over the price.

I saw one of my poems that an individual was dragging on his shirt.

A tie-dye shirt.

Worth its weight in silver, platinum, and gold.

Like my poem.

But the light weight poems of T.S. Eliot are worth millions nowadays.

My poem, like my mind, will take a bath with me.

Then we will dry off again.

But the part that was on my shirt will go to the laundry.

To be immersed in liquid soap suds while I stay dry.

I went out in the rain while my poem was tumbling in the dryer.

Can you feel the heat of the coils fire in the dryer?

By Jonathan Billet 12/18/2014

High Sky

                   "High Sky"

Whatever you want the world to be, it will be.

Just a place to walk in clouds for me.

One twice three.

Fantasy or reality?

A new place to be!

As far as the eye can see.

It's really for free.

By Captain J. Billet's        

Post For The Public

                                  "Post For The Public"

SOME PEOPLE CAN SWEAR WITHOUT USING A BAD WORD.

FOOD FOR AMMUNITION'S THOUGHTS.

by captain JON       

Flower Shower

                                            "Flower Shower"

Always wear shades in the sun showers.

It's so warm that I don't need my umbrella.

Just my shades and fedora cap.

Drinking from a two gallon Starbucks cup up north.

While it's raining on the West Coast.

Snowing on a winter's day in the East.

Wear brown boots to match my black suede jacket and blue leather pants.

Singing Hare Krishna and Krishna Hare.

Want to sleep with you, Renee.

Let's stay to play.

I don't care what people think or say.

As I go on my way.

You're my guiding star when the moon glows.

The sun just arose and I feel your warm body next to mine.

Hear you whispering sweet love songs in my ears.

Like the birds chirp on a sunny summer day.

You blow my heart away.

Like the winds blow the cool ocean spray.

This is a lazy day.

A hazy maze.

By Jon Billet 12/20/2014

Hearts' Keys Played By Player Piano

"Hearts' Keys Played By Player Piano"

All that we have been through

magically turns from an old tune

played by nobody playing player

piano in a concerto to an

overflowing room into the new

morning's tune.

Playing from an afternoon''s.

crooning moon.

I'll always get a sparkling, mystical

view of you as a precious piece of

art that always brings such joy to a

lonely heart, with which I could

never bear to part.

The same lonely

heart is about to stall and then start.

You light the night stars by turning on

love candles, keeping them burning,

my desires yearning, and the planets

turning.

I suck on your clouds and drink the

sky as many colored butterflies sail

by get me drunk and high in that sky.

Only to get a hangover from the drink

and douse your love candles that were

burning fiery heat into my heart.

By Jonathan Billet - 12/06/2014        

Hotmail Under The Snows

"Hotmail Under The Snows"

The blankets are hot under a blizzard.

So quote the lizard.

Who hangs around in the yard.

Accordingly with Walsh's Grapefruit juice.

It's 5 o'clock here and 4 in heaven.

So what's the stupid lesson?

Green heaven above.

I'm speaking of love.

Love Jonathan Billet

Dream Serial Manifesto

                                 "Dream Serial Manifesto"

I was in the Aroma Cafe and it was getting late.  The owner Dave,
told me to mind the store he was going out.   I fell asleep and when
I awoke I was stuck inside the store in the dark.  I tried to open the
door but I was locked in.  It got so dark that I couldn't find the light
switches.  After a long five minute the telephone began to ring and
I started to think that Dave was playing a joke on me and that he
would come back and get me out,  He never did.

I found myself in an apartment building with doors that I was opening
and had different amphibians in cages that were darting out at me.  I
particularly remember the yellow snake that coiled up and struck out
at me.  I went further down the hall in the basement into a room with
a cage full of mice.  I ended up down one of the basement halls, trying                              
to find my way out of apartment building.  I collided with a previous
dream.  In that dream I was in an apartment building in White Plains, N.Y.,
where once again I was stuck in the halls.  I was then remembering I did
not know where I was and asked two teenagers how to get out of there.
They told me but I found out myself.   I found a railroad station and ended
up in Pelham, N.Y. the town just south of where I lived.  From there, I
made it home.

I woke up out of this dream and looked at my watch it said 8:30. I assumed
it was Sunday morning and went to the local cafe for breakfast.  I found
out it was actually Saturday night and not Sunday morning when I spotted
the teenagers out and not any adults.  As was the customary situation on a
Saturday night.

I ordered a green tea for Saturday night as I would have on any other Sunday
morning.

Jonathan Billet's 12/13/2014- Friday 13th, 2014        

Blissful Moments

"Blissful Moments"

My mind is running at five second intervals.

My heartbeats are skipping faster.

Trillions of stars will follow our paths.

They will never meet.

Neither will our stars' destinies.

You are my friend in a world of fantasy.

A place nobody can hear or see.

Love me for today's tomorrows.

Our fate is somewhere hidden, in the heavens above.

Where Gods make blissful love.

I love you Andrea.-

By Jonathan Billet        

Harvey's Wall Hanger

                          "Harvey's Wall Hanger"

You are an automatic heart taker and money maker.

Don't have a fresh mouth.

Have fresh eyes, ears, nose, and throat.

The cranky banker stole my wanker.

The world he knew was worth its weight in goose feather.

It looks like cold weather.

So I missed it as the wall street man took his money.

It's a sad story, not that funny.

May seem like cold weather, but actually is sunny.

But my nose is runny.

Maybe it will rhyme with a different time.

But who knows the time of day?

Four o'clock here and seven in heaven.

By Jonathan Billet - A. Dudet-12/12/14

Spotted Dick

"Spotted Dick"

Is Spotted Dick the name of a dildo or a common dish in England?

It is a kind of canker sore.

Caused by African mosquitoes or ones from Ecuador's capitol called Quito.

The Quito mosquito only stings during an Ecuadorian eclipse of the sun.

The cooler weather brings them out in droves.

Orange tree groves will also bring out Quito's mosquitoes.

I'm sure you never got bit by the Ecuadorian mosquito because they cause wanker sores.

End-

By Jonathan Billet.-.12.06.2014

I Love You, Alice The Smokeless

"I Love You, Alice The Smokeless"

When people say what's up?

I say what's down will come around.

Then you will know what's up is upside down.

I stumble and bumble, as I fumble.

Tying to unhook a brassiere.

Just to sneak a look.

Like the culinary cook.

Cooking with a booking.

For two at The Cellar Club.

With my true love.

Who's as pure and innocent as a bar of Dove.

I love you Alice B. Toke less.

Because you smoke less.

I can't see or hear you.

Like the earth's mirrors.

It can't be seen or heard spinning on top of the globe's stage.

But we must always age.

Like a fine dinner wine.

You sparkle and shine.

So will the rest of the world.

In its time. 

By Jonathan Billet

Remote Controls

                                               "Remote Controls"

A radioactive remote control.

Black and white turned into living colors.

Plain sets turned from cable into high definition.

Filling the television with old fashioned commercials and the latest in programming.

Grand Central Station is full of commuters from nineteen fifty six.

Elvis reads the Daily News headlines in the fifties.

The advertisements are for dog's bad breath.

Nancy Reagan is telling us to brush three times a day.

The firemen will rescue a lost cat from a tree.

When Eisenhower was president.

There are no homeless in Exurbia.

Only dogs ate dog food out of dog cans.

The whole country is anti-communist in the fifties.

The Big Bopper is singing Tutti Frutti.

There is always an ending to the beginning.

Fuddy duddy fads always end.

Bolts of lightning just happen.

People live and die forever.

By Jonathan Billet 12/08/2014.

Quiet! A Poem Is Lost In Thought

"Quiet! A Poem Is Lost In Thought"

All poetic thought lost in puffy dream clouds.

The poetry breathed cloud's vapors through a glass and porcelain tiled ceramic hookah pipe.

Poets used to smoke Turkish cigarettes that were hand rolled with blueberry rolling paper.

But the poets quit smoking them when Grandma Moses told them cigarettes caused brain cancer.

That turned out to be true, like tea causes subcutaneous emphysema lung sounds.

Poetry smoked pot which causes blue brain cell damage.

The combination of the cigarettes and clouds caused poets to have senility at the age of six.

But to this day, poetry still smokes thoughts and new ideas, in a big puff of smoking, white, clouds.

Walked backwards while my friend walked forwards under the same umbrella down the street.

People were walking that way, in groups of fours, sixes, eights, and twelves, all over towns.

All under different umbrellas, as the towns' clocks struck high fives.

It rained and rained horses and cows.

I chopped a snowman's carrot nose off with a sword and put it in a vegetable stew.

An English vegetable pie.

I was knighted for it by the Queen Of England, with the same sword, that very day.

For six pence I'd blow a plastic nose.

I'd jump in a pool full of Mush Men's Yorkshire Raisin Pudding.

For ten pounds English sterling.

Dreamed up by George Harvey Wall Wanker VIII.

End.

Jonathan Billet 12/06/2014

A Lesson In Time

"A Lesson In Time"

Is time out to enjoy or destroy?

Dreaming life's signs designs is what some do.

In their deep thoughts enlightened people think like a few.

Others, practice a combination of the two to get through.

The fences and walls people construct really have no boundaries.

The world has a limitless scope in an inner space's time.

Everything they do has a soul's rhythm in song's rhyme.

Like the rhythmical rhyme of a heartbeat's precious mime.

More often a rare art beat's gold dime.

An implosion's explosion.

It's kept very lively for the new aged sage.

The walls and fences really have no cage.

Only in the authors' written page.

With all the outrage.

On an actor's stage.

By Jonathan Billet

11.30.2014- On a Blue and White Distant Planet.        

Delusions

"Delusions"

Spread the jelly.

A phone's tapping and I am crapping.

Sapping some tears collecting in my room.

Looking down on the world from a top shelf.

Writing to nobody but myself.

Listening to shooting stars.

As they pass the highways in their cars.

I hit a few bars.

It's just onomatopoeia.

For Quito the flying mosquito.    

By Jonathan Billet on Orange Friday.

11/29/2014

Listening In

                               "Listening In"

I really can't hear the dybbuks or ghosts I'm listening to. 

That's because they don't exist.

When people ask me to whom I listen, I tell them it's all in their mind.

Preparing to go to famine and stop writing.

The same personalities who steal my mail, steal my garbage.

I suspect the garbage people.

Not necessarily the sanitation crews.

Although I share the same dumpster as everyone else.

They should keep their business to themselves, unlike I do.

But all I can do is give bad excuses.

Is that all life's good for?

I wonder why.

Not why not.

Some do but I don't.

Especially most recently.

They say it's a last medical alert.

Don't believe in it.

And I won't.

Pull the stunt and bunt!

My advice is always listen to the receiver.

By Jonathan Billet on Black Fridays.

Everything Under The Sun

"Everything Under The Sun"

An age can't find a sage in a history book's page.

Cranberry sauce can't be saved and t.v.'s aren't being sold.

Nothing is old but the news.

In the warehouses, the wires have blown a fuse.

Folks don't have clues on their political views.

Many can't choose.

In the end they must pay their union dues.

But everything is either in black or blues.

We all have loose screws.

Some people even wear tutus.

By Jonathan Billet-11/27/2014         

Scratching

                                     "Scratching"

Some people scratch their heads while others pick on asses.

It's like pouring molasses' gasses into cars.

There's a definite shortage.

Telling more tall stories.

That lead to a back door's stage.

The mind will mellow with the ages.

According to some of the sages.

In newspapers' advertising's back pages.

Wasn't written up in The New York Time's.

Around or about the summer of seventy-three.

But had a card that said, "Get Out Of Jail Free."

That, like The Post and Journal, was not hard to see.

But I keep up the question, "what does that have to do with little me?"

Go ask a Kennedy.

Oui?

By Jonny B. Flash without much cash.  11/28/2014

Now try Billet.

Funny Business

"Funny Business"

What's with the funny business?

Which ones perpetrate it?

We are all responsible.

Bar none.

Unless it's passed.

Like a history lesson.

I think it's funny.

But don't go quoting me on that sonny.

History teaches cruel lessons.

It has no weapons.

Love you tons.

But not your guns.

Goodbye and good luck.

By Jonathan Billet:::11/26/2014

A Sweet Thing

"A Sweet Thing"

You are all sweet things,

a butterfly sings.

The door rings, 

and you bring it to light,

on a warm spring night,

When nothing is right.

Nothing became everything.

Birds wing in evening spring.

Dong Ding,

Ding Dong.

We bounce like a China doll's ping pong,

all the night long.

To you nothing can compare,

in a still and dark, cloudy, starless, night's air,

you make love's deal fair.

My love is almost complete,

without despair to compete.

I clap my hands and feet,

to your rhyming beat.

You make people move,

when you have a seat.

I catch fire to your body's

flaming suns' desire.

It's like being electrocuted,

on a hot railroad wire.

At night I like to sneak a peak,

and watch your heavenly sleep.

Is this life bliss?

I reach for a kiss.

I walk on your dream's trail,

following your ship's setting sail.

All else is mail ready for my garbage pail.

Your art is made from the artist's heart.

You make life stop and start.

We will never be apart.

You toss your love above my head,

to spread throughout the flooring's bed.

Let me sip the herbal tea from your organic sea,

I can feel the branches of your majestic Redwood tree,

so help me find that missing golden key.

Letting us be, 

so we may be free,

to catch that key.

To be or not to be with me?

By Jonathan Billet 

11.10.14