Saturday, June 27, 2015

Moment's Sounds

"Moment's Sounds"



A magic moment is a movement.

If you have a moment's movement there must be sound.

I've heard it before in my lifetimes' dreams.

Like television's screwed screen's lines I've seen after sex.

I can't think with her kisses and body movements.

She and I become as one.

Although, there were too few of us.

Not the amount I was promised due.

I am just like your imagination's view.

Et tu?

Who are you?

Where do you come from?

A hot flaming star's bright sun?

You are the one who is my fun!!!...

A star may weigh a ton but your love weighs none.

Your stars are lighter than feathers floating in space.

Your body is as rhythmic as your face.

I am slow to race with your heart beat's rapid pace.

Like your deck's golden ace.

Right by my side's place.

You are the sweetest dove.

To all the women whom I love.




By Jonathan Billet <https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100008123118668>
06-25-15

Long Before Leaving

                                                              "Long Before Leaving"



Arrived at the station long before leaving for it....

Got caught in two places at once.

I went up and down the railway station after having my libation.



My disease matactecised and created tears in my lover's dried eyes.

It turned from a microscopic growth into a pandemic.

With no end in sight.

It had no light from which to hide.

The rest of the world took no sides, it never confides.

Start to finish and finish to end.

A message, it did send.



I wear glasses to see people as I want them to be.

Not as they are.

The women look like doves and men are sight's soaring eagles.



The cars never stop running, just like the clocks universe.

They all travel at different speeds.



A tree's leaves changes colors, like the camouflaged animals of the earth can.

In the beginning the earth was silent, and in the future will change back to silence again.

Like the trees' leaves or a camouflaged creature.



By Jonathan Billet- 06-24-15

Tuesday, June 23, 2015

Talks Like A Musician

"Talks Like A Musician"




They write like magicians and talk like musicians.


A few do.
                                                                               

They say look both ways before you talk.


Or you may end up getting run over by a passing star.


Couldn't help but stick my big butt in the cement before I spoke.


Now there's an impression of my rear in the cement, autographed by me.


Like Grauman's Chinese Theater blocks away from Hollywood and Vine.


Living a cat's lives of nine.


So raise your stein to this story of mine.


"Life is sublime when it changes from a riddle into a rhyme."


Especially for me and my big mouth's behind.


I hope you have the time to read this fairytale's rhyme.


Rhymes with the times!...




By Jonathan Billet

June Ninth, Two Thousand Fifteen

Dedicated To My Favorite Person-Andrea.

Monday, June 22, 2015

Fiddler's Dime Rhyme

                                        "Fiddler's Dime Rhyme"



A riddle isn't worth a dime unless it's played in rhyme during fiddle time.

I don't know if my last poetry piece existed anywhere, but in my mind.

The sun, planets, moons, and stars' rivers, and oceans, are my sons and daughters.

I'm writing on a full moon in a cathartic late June.

Soon to be the turning earth's July, for an August supply of a hot afternoon sun.

When the musical melodies ring as one.

Are you lip syncing me, or tongue touching the clouds in the sky?

The state of California seems to have gone dry.

It's a dry and fecked smell that attracts flies.

I just skip over, in my stately high.

Will the world cry, should I die?


I'm taking tokes on some powerful smokes.

Ruining and staining my teeth.

Beneath my feet on the floor, right next door.

Four and twenty blessed score.

Why should Tom, Dick, and Harry miss Larry?

He can't hide anymore.

Below the acupuncturist's store.

From you, after, or before.

From: Jon's John.



By Jonathan Billet

June 21, 2015

Thursday, June 18, 2015

Rhapsodical Dimes' Rhymes

                                 "Rhapsodical Dimes' Rhymes"



A kangaroo hops and stops at the local Stop N' Shop to get a bite to eat.

With its gigantic feet it picks up a rhythmical beat.

The holes it makes have no bottoms.

A blank railroad sign has no play in times' rhymes.

A half empty drunk bottle of burgundy wine is stuck in a rhyme of time.

Flickering flame of a moth's rhyme in time isn't worth a dime in a telephone line.

The flame is lost to the wind's time.

Everything in the world will turn good and fine.

To ripen with songs' rhyme.

In heavens sharpened and shut out designs.

As it stands on two of its four legs hinds.

The local ventriloquist will throw his voice in an echo down the canyon.

The trains will come and go, speed and slow.

When they reach it and the blank silent, sign that says nothing.

It will lift up and around as the town's ladies bend down and show

cleavage all over town.

Many grafters reach for roofs' beam's rafters.

True, I spoke as I saw the world fall.

Nobody will give me a telephone call.




By Jonathan Billet -06-18-2015

Monday, June 15, 2015

Making Love In Larchmont

      "Making Love In Larchmont"

                                     


Inspiration is a kind of beautiful magic.

Insanity passes with time and loving kindness.

To those who seek it.

Hannibal and Napoleon's conquests were a fuzzy past participle.

Shakespeare and Gandhi were living history to live on forever.

In life's clarity's silent moments.

Although they speak louder than sound ever will.

Peace will come to the few who possess strength to those who help others.

The world will come to a heavenly sent catharsis of epiphanies, whenever it is achieved.

Superstitious mirrors will never reflect the sun ray's goddess of love.

Love is currently here to stay with those who embrace it.

Love is the world's word.

We must heed the magnificent calling.

While we are alive, to chant its blessings.

Love you more than language can speak.




By Jonathan Billet
On A New Day.

Saturday, June 13, 2015

5th Vertical Dream In A Steamy Ice Cream

"5th Vertical Dream In A Steamy Ice Cream"




Bosco Nouveau is the topping to art nouveau's new show.

Jupiter has an indigo glow in our summers' times.

Plato never took Socrates' hemlock.

Birds flew to snowy mountain peaks.

Life never delivers what it seeks.

But seeks with a silent tongue.

So it speaks.

Making us once again, almost young.

We are always finding, but never arriving.


T.P.'s show off colorful blankets on their walls.

Next to the ancient, bubbling, waterfalls.

Smalls and talls are on the racks of department store's halls.

Where I try them out in the clothing stalls.

While young musicians learn how to play on Les Pauls.

To all you alls.

They chime with the deep south's melodic rhyme.

Written on a southern day late May.



By Jonathan Billet

June 13th, 2015

Blind Alley

“Blind Alley”


The future will be the past’s present.

Tomorrow is the present’s future.

Yesterday was the present’s past.

What will be is past in our wishes’ desires.

It’s what is wanted by us to put out our fires.

Winded subliminal thoughts.

Advertising flyers tell us what we want to hear.

Far away but right near here.

Forward steps to the rear.

Too much wine you drink along with this song.

You will see your past in a looking glass before long.

I never know what you are talking about in the past tense.

Can figure how to write it in unspoken words.

Words are for the birds.

Sacred word is always the unheard.

A rare find for one who is partially blind.

Spoken by the signed.

There is no other line to this song’s rhyme.


By Jon Billet-
03.17.2015

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Floating On Air

                                                             "Floating On Air"



Drinking way to much punch at the Junior prom.

Floating depends on buoyancy.

If you think you can float on air, you can!

If you think like E.T. you can ride your bicycle in outer space, you do.

It's really not up to me.

But it's left for you to do one day.

You already picked many May daze.

I see you in my hospital bed's orange weightless haze.

These days you can get away with whatever you want.

Provided you are clever enough.

Like a painting that hangs in the Met that is a forgery.

Just don't let anyone know.

For a secret remains a secret if you don't tell anyone else.

But confide in me!


To A. Dudette On Graduation.
from Jon Billet 06-10-2015

"The Flood"

                     "The Flood"                                  



Always be high on the mediocrity of crap.

Never have your sink flooded.

Don't let the faucet get stuck up.

Because after all, diarrhea is constipation of the brain.

To stay regular take in as many fruits and vegetables as you can.

Straying may make you abnormal.

And you and nobody else wants to throw up or have wet, smelly pants.

In this, accident prone, planet we live on.

That is to say, they could be caused by extreme heat or freezing cold.

As well as poor intake.

Good health is the wealth of moderate exercise for the body.

Remember, after all is said and done, we are all full of crap.

Take the doc's advice if you can.

Stay healthy.

Not overdosed.

P.S.S.- Watch your P's and Q's.


By Jonathan Billet
June Tenth - 2015


Reggae Music

"Reggae Music"


Reggae artist plays to his voice's rose.

Pierces his nose and taps the toes.

Claps feet and stomp with hands.

In newly born island sands.

Where they eat ribs from frying pans.

And woo hysterical fans.

A Rasta Band's Mans.


BY JON BILLET
06-07-2915

Green Moon Glow

"Green Moon Glow"




Pluto has three moons to see.

In a miniature green spearmint ice-creamed tea.

Earth's moon's pull is weightless and free.

It's costly and hard to be.

Is it to see?

Not for me.

A house without a key.

A stinger without a bee.

A bent knee.

Does the world need cosmetic surgery?

It's got no front and an even bigger back.

Like a cigarette pack.

It belongs tied in alaundry sack.




Alias Jonathan Billet

Boozy Blues Of Big Birth

                        "Boozy Blues Of Big Birth"



The sun rocked back and forth.

A world rolled on the floor.

It had no door.

Big moon followed its path in quarterly phases.

They all spun around the cosmos.

A universal festival of lights.

The days were always turning into the nights.

Our planet was breaking out into fights.

The people took their flights in habitual frights.

I was watching and listening to these sights.

My ear can't hear the tremendous implosions.

They sound like universal explosions.

Backward spinning rotations.

Turns into a windy ocean's existence of flotations.

Only the fish float by rote.


It's worthy of note.

Don't forget your tote raincoat.

Toss the vote in the mail.

Watch the winds fail to make it sail...



By Jonathan Billet

June Fourth, Two Thousand Fifteen...