The Clock Struck 5

"The Clock Struck 5"

It's 5 o'clock here and 11 in heaven.

The worlds' clocks all chime at the same time.

Slap me 20.

10 fingers and 10 toes.

Then the yellow primrose grows.

But nobody ever knows.

Where and when the invisible wind blows.

And a stitch in time goes.

It goes and flows.

In its own order.

-By Jonathan Billet

Redone April 28, 2015

Twinkle Twinky

"Twinkle Twinky"

My car lights are the sun's light.

Millions of times, upon a starry night.

On a sunday afternoon, I was thrown in a dungeon and lost my fight.

The plight of the might.

If I had different colored skin I'd be angered too.

What's it to you?

Less than nothing to a very few!!!...

Life should start over anew!!!...

The turn of a screw.

Don't it all make the sun turn blue?...

Or is the world turning new?

A Jewish kind of soul with a hole.

A bagel bugler?

By Jon Billet- 04/28/2015

Sloppy Slipping

                                    "Sloppy Slipping"

I slipped in someone's shoes.

They slipped in mine.

Rita slipped on the ice.

I went from New York City to Valhalla with her.

I made it back home without her.

Rita, forgotten, but not gone.

I stay up all night smoking English cigarettes and dreaming about her.

She's nowhere to be found.

Except at the Kensico Cemetery.

Below the ground.

While my world spins around.

In my inner space.

By Jon Billet's -04/27/2015

My Poetry

"My Poetry"

There is a poem stored in my mind when I dream.

If I remember what it is or forget what it was about-

my abilities to create new ideas will be gone.

All people have the same dream but it is usually concealed.

Released after death sets in, for their comfort.

A catharsis for poison pen writing for me.

A get out of jail card, for free.

Not hard to be.

Easy to see.

- Jonathan Billet-4.27.2015-Revised        

Stirring Round

                              "Stirring Round"

Time is stirring around in sugared coffee cups out in space.

Running at such a fantastic pace only to arrive in the wrong place.

The stones were thrown at the unknown.

Stranger than day or night.

The water cup took flight.

I could see well its horrible plight.

It got so angry it began to scream and fight.

Although knowing so well it had no right.

Despite its secret spite.

It kept stir rowing with all its might.

This got the morning cafe coffee drinkers very uptight.

You never witnessed such a pathetic sight.

In all of your day's life.

I swear on the grave of your wife.

It was like eating without a fork and spoon's knife.

Like a lost drummer boy's fife.

There I go -

Tallyho! 

Captain Morning Sun Alias Jon Billet 04.24.2015

Staring At A Wall

"Staring At A Wall"

Knock out the walls.

Slide down the fun halls.

After all we don't belong anywhere after all might be-

said and done.

Never from the rose petals of the sun.

Not from anyone's gun.

Life is as light as a feather, yet weighs a ton.

Everything is left unsung and never well done.

In the heaven of hell.

When all is there to tell.

Where I fell.

Into a wishing well.

Remember???...

Believe me, it gets hot.

Do we just rot?

I swear not.

But I live high on the pot.

Full of constipated crappy diarrhea.

Yours Forever 

And Never

Jon Billet       

On My Knees

                  "On My Knees"

On my knees I imbibe on burgundy teas.

For one who sees you are blind.

I'd like you to lose what you find.

That has no reason or rhyme.

Crossed line is divine.

Alarm clock's heaven jangling bells.

It tells time.

Is life foolish?

Or full of fuels made from jewels?

Maybe renewals in the film's art library.

You are funny no matter who you are.

I can see your humor from a distant star.

Right across from The Mar's Bar.

Love You-Jonathan Billet-rewritten 04.23.2015        

Chilling Air

"Chilling Air"

Ever see invisible air?

That's because it's not really there.

Don't despair; just because it's not there doesn't mean we can't breathe air.

Hot air.

You don't care.

As an apple tastes to a pear.

Like I taste to a hat.

Your eyes hears your ears.

In your beer's fears you tap the keys on your keyboard.

Stating how the world's coming out.

I'm glad today it's not so bad.

Some days are sad and other days are glad.

Yesterdays you have been had.

I can sympathize.

One should never despise but empathize.

The morning will realize and rise.

People will shout and let out desperate cries.

As God just sighs at the world through shut eyes.

It's a surprise spoken in foreign languages.

I just can't understand how you think.

Revamped on 04.23.2015 by Jonathan Billet.

RANDY, MICKEY, JON-MICHAEL, AND DEBBIE ALL GOT STONES FRONT ROW SEATS.

Polyester Shack

                                                        "Polyester  Shack"

I live in a polyester shack.

I'm always busy arriving.

Will be going below.

Better than being stuck above. 

I'm upside down in a right side up world.

Like to have an upside down wedding cake and bathe in champagne on my wedding night.

The birds bathe in the pond and the squirrels scamper forward to have a drink.

Are they high?

Am I?

It appears to be so.

So far, from here.

I'd like to thank you for reading this, my friend.

The ground is soft and moist from the rains' falling.

The birds sing songs inside my radio.

I'm tuned into the music station.

It's got nature's rhythm.

I live in this beautiful world.

Everything will turn out alright.

One always lands on their feet again.

The demise is really a disguise.

The birds fly high in a distant, far off sky.

To a star that has never been reached.

Run into writing of a poem, alone.

Forward to egress.

By Jonathan Billet -04/22/14

SCUMBAGS ABBIE, RICKY, AND MICKEY

ALL USE THE SAME LIPSTICK.       

walking upside down

                     "walking upside down"

                       FORWARD AND STARWARD INTO

SPACE WE TRAVEL AT AN EVER 

          FASTER PACE.

-JONNY  BILLET       

Hoity Toity Honky Tonks

             "Hoity Toity Honky Tonks"

I'm sure I'm an icicle on a burning sun.

I ride my motorcycle on the moon.

Arriving later this noon.

Earlier than soon.

I am a buffoon on Jupiter's largest moon.

Listening to the same God's damned tuned.

This spring will bring an early june.

Or late august.

I don't know the difference between the two.

Although I know an old trick can turn anew.

So screw the rhyme that hasn't any time for you.

From Galaxy 7

For my friend Tony M.

By Jon Billet - 4.1.2015       

Makin' Bacon

                             "Makin' Bacon"

Dear Rebbe Shira,

Not only am I fakin' but I eat bacon. Love its salty taste

and the grease it's made up of.  I'm so full of it that it floats

out of my mouth.  Don't like pastrami but I love a good 

salami.  Tell the judge I don't plead innocence, only ignorance

or bliss.  For after all, ignorance is bliss.  Now that I can't

plead poverty I'll have to plead ignorance.  What one wears

around his neck or head's face can't make or break a person.

Just like what they wear on their heads.  What genius said, "You

can't judge a book by its cover?"  It's the fine print you have to

read, if it makes any sense at all!!!...  READ MY FINE PRINT!  I 

PLEAD INNOCENCE TO THE TRULY GUILTY ONES.  AFTER ALL

WE ARE ALL CHILDREN IN GOD'S INNOCENT EYES.  GOD NEVER

LIES. WE PRETEND NOT TO.  IT'S JUST A STORY THAT CAN

SOMETIMES BE GORY.  IT'S JUST MOURNING FOR GLORY.

By Jon Billet 04.18.2015       

Over A Galaxy

"Over A Galaxy"

Flying over a galaxy on a star.

Jumping over air with a jump rope.

Skipping over a heartbeat with a rhyme.

Under-spending a dollar with a dime.

The nation bears with fruits but not with nuts.

According to some, the world is flat and upside down.

I walk right side up.

At night, I sleep flat on my back, looking up.

I dream that I'm at the cafe drinking nectar of green iced tea.

Shaloma to the sights and sounds of Aroma.

"Aroma's David to Starbuck's Goliath."

Waldorf and Statler were spotted chatting in front of the East Side Cafe in Larchmont.

The townspeople stroll down Palmer Avenue smoke cigars and talk to themselves.

The town isn't the town, it's the village.

I live in a walkup near the new fish store.

Up from the barber of Seville.

I do quite a bit of walking and talking.

Only privately and to myself.

Wouldn't involve others.

Although plenty are mothers.

By J. Billet's

04.17.2015

Directionless Man

                            "Directionless Man"

That man has no direction and he's not the exception.

But is the world's rule.

Attends the living theatrical school.

Like every other fool.

A bucked tooth hero.

Who would like to get his crooked teeth's words straight.

He has a late fate.

Would like to find out yesterday's date.

Always working at a slow rate.

Eats off the empty plate.

The world will buy him nothing but trouble.

Alive as a single double.

Inside of his geodesic dome pieces of a bubble.

The undertaker digs the plot with his shovel.

I would like to fly in his hovel.

In starry outer space at its own pace.

I'm in no place.

But my home base.

By Jonathan Billet

04.13.2015

A Racket

"A Racket"

So much noise in store I won't be able to hear.

Except the quiet racket the rain makes on my roof.

Nobody and nothing heard when I am able to sleep.

Dreamt all the world was silent.

The populace was whispering.

I was sleeping and couldn't hear them.

Won't be able to listen when there's too much noise made.

If the world implodes.

I'll be dead or sleeping on a beach with only the wave's speech.

Talking and walking in a purgatory story.

What will be will set me free.

Next to a deep green sea.

It's your kiss that comes to me.

For all to see.

We are really me.

By Jonathan Billet

04/11/2015

For Andrea       

Thrilling Heartbeat

"Thrilling Heartbeat"

Thrilling dance to a heartbeat in the street in Rio's festive heat.

In this hell I take a seat.

A reclining chair and I can see right through the invisible air.

Is It fair?

You can't even see air.

As a tomato is to a pear.

Or your nose is to your toes. 

Your eyes are to your ears.

In your fears you tap the magic keys on the keyboard.

Stating how your world is treating itself.

Glad today not so mad!

Sometimes bad other times sad.

You feel had.

I can sympathize.

Never despise, but empathize.

The morning will always rise and reenergize.

People will shout and let out desperate cries.

As God just sighs at the world through shut eyes.

You care and that isn't fair to me.

I just don't see.

You

All my love J. Billet's 

-April 13, 2015        

Backward Motion

"Backward Motion"

I'm at a strangest location in a locomotion.

Traveling in slow motion.

Devoid of all emotion.

Life's is just a notion.

Running at an unbelievable pace to get nowhere in somebody elses place.

Outside the inner starry space, to communicate with our human race.

Riding on the pinhead of a needle, to take a spin in a volkswagen beetle.

As the earth shakes from its latest quake.

Your glass body's head breaks.

Wondering how much it takes.

At the going rates, eating off our platinum plates.

It's the mistakes that makes cake bakes.

This rhyme scheme gathers no steam.

In an ecstasy's dream.

Things end up the way they don't seem.

By Anonymous Bosch alias J. Billet circa 04.07.2015

Unspoken Word For You

"Unspoken Word For You"

Your unspoken word talks to me.

I write in unspoken words.

For all the world to hear.

Read and listen to.

This is done by the magic of my computer.

A computer of my mind's imagination's print.

Like a fantasia of unregulated sounds.

Magical thinking makes magical writing.

I feel the pleasing thrill it gives to me.

Can't describe this feeling in words.

Only expressed by writing these unspoken words.

The only thing more pleasing is the love you give.

You also take the love you give which makes me love more.

Love you Andrea, now and forever.

No writing or words can vocalize my love.

The thoughts float in the invisible air above.

Love- Jonathan Billet

- 04.08.2015

Love What You Got

          "Love What You Got"

Suddenly, I'm both happy and sad.

Tends to drive one mad.

But they should be glad.

For the mad are sad.

We should love all we had.

That's life, which isn't at all bad.

If you add it up.

It won't go low.

So take life slow.

Don't rush to go below.

Love what you got.

It's alot.

By Jonathan Billet

April 8, 2015        

Oh Brother!

                               "Oh Brother!"

Oh brother!

I wish I could give it all to you.

Everything I own or have ever known.

The love always shown and grown.

For this day that I share with you has no length or width.

Only a higher height that can't be seen by sight.

A dark night will lead to a new light's dawn.

A moving morning may follow us to a new day.

Nothing is heavy enough to weigh.

It's what I do and not what I say.

By Jon Billet 

April 8th, 2015

Open Your Door

                           "Open Your Door"

Head bangers.

Door Knockers.

Head banging door knockers.

Glasses of Molasses.

Fifty cent pieces of asses.

Woman, let your pants down all around my town.

The wonderful magic has no sound.

A highball caught on a rebound.

So wave your wand right over the head.

Let's dance in the dark, and go to my bed.

Everything speaks for what was just said.

By Jonathan Billet  

April 8th, 2015        

Heart Hearth's Heat

"Heart Hearth's Heat"

I write in my dreams.

My poetry speaks for itself.

Dreams are alive to me.

My dreams are locked in your heart.

Dancing in a rain storm.

Taking my rain shower.

My minutes take up many an hour.

Eternity last for a second.

Infinity is always forever.

Never is forever a never.

A null set in the cosmos.

Empty dead space.

It is invisible.

Except in the shadows of mimes' performances.

In the key of C.

Sea of tea.

A you of me.

Who is we?

We is us.

Inky black and green octopus.

Driving a psychedelic autobus. 

It flies in the invisibility of air.

By Anonymous Bosch alias J. Billet's-

April Lucky Seven- 2015

A Sun Arising

              "A Sun Arising"

Waiting on a starlit sea.

The blue moon.

Twisted sugar in my lemon tea.

Waves rock me back and forth while dreaming.

The foam covers my body.

While your love sends me to places I will never get to.

No matter how far I may choose to travel.

I will always end up in the same place.

Here, there, and everywhere.

Nowhere to mention.

All places to be.

Nothing that one can see.

She lives by the sea right next to me.

Life is for free, not meant for slavery.

Proverbial pronoun that she is.

An adversarial adjective.

Sent in a letter through the mail.

She will never arrive there.

Although, always close to me.

By Jonathan Billet..--04.07.2015        

Sound

 "Sound"

Helium and platinum scream.

Like a thick shaving cream.

It is what it may seem.

A reality's fantasia.

Said what they will say.

Waiting for the new day.

In lights' nights.

Orange moon's and true Junes.

All the singing tunes.

You have sung.

With a golden lung.

Totally left undone.

Unsung on your melodies', ringing, tongue.

By Jonathan Billet-03/29/015         

On My Knees

                  "On My Knees"

On my knees I drink burgundy teas.

For one who sees you are blind.

I'd like you to lose what you find.

That's not rhymed.

The lines were crossed in an episode.

Changstein is Jewish.

Not oldish but newish.

Who can tell with all the sewage?

You are funny no matter who you are.

I can see your humor from a distant star.

Right across from the Mar's Bar.

Love You-Jonathan Billet

04/05/15        

N.Y.C. & S.F. - Park Bench

"N.Y.C. & S.F. - Park Bench."

Lying on a park bench, dreaming drunkenly, on bottles of Bicardi 151.

In a stupor, whispering senseless, secret nothings, confidentially, to herself.

Bright, white hair and yellow, rotting, decaying tooth.

She is awake and staring at the sky incoherently.

Clutching on plastic bags and the bench's handrails to sit up.

Expressionless, she gets up and walks on one of the twisted, curving, paths.

This will get her nowhere quickly.

Taking her time.

Our worlds spin and race at their frantic pace.

So only those with money have a real life's space.

The chief has smashed the fenced window to escape.

By Jon Billet 04/05/15

Sibling Rivalry

       "Sibling Rivalry"

Dear Randy, Deb, and Sue,

In responding to you:

I write in a car.

Sleep in my mind.

Dream in a bed on Macy's floor.

There is no wall.

Only the department store's hall.

Mick, the know it all, we all know, took a great fall.

So did his Uncle Gus Hall.

They started rolling the ball.

In early August's late Fall.

The order was small.

Not tall like all you all.

Gangsters and pranksters rule with an iron finger.

Goldfinger

Make it a new release.

So I can open it up with blue cheese keys.

And don't forget to drink tons of the peppermint's teas.

A new door always has an old floor in Macy's department store.

I wish I could dream more.

But there would be nothing to store.

By Jonathan Billet

8:43- April 3, 2015