Tuesday, December 29, 2015

Rest In Pieces

                       "Rest In Pieces"



Let the world wake up before I go to sleep.

Don't let me go to sleep anytime sooner.

I hope my eclipse isn't solar but is lunar.


I don't write that well.

Learned in school how to spell.

My undiscovered thoughts lie in a wishing well.


School bell rings and wishes I would go to hell.

It's 7 here and 11 in heaven.

I hope I make it there, before I am called.


While you still can drop me a romantic line.

Write your name on the dotted dollar sign.

That way I'll always know that you will be mine.


Keys may not open every door.

While I'm waiting for judgement, lay with me on your floor.

We can live in the center of the earth's core, forever more.




Send My Love To Andy- Jon Billet 12/28/15

Aroma's Cafe

                                      "Aroma's Cafe"




Tables Rock N' Roll.

Red, white, and purple flowers give off a heady, intoxicating, fragrance.

Aromatic coffee beans are roasted then ground and sold.

Bunches of bagels and bialys rest under the counter.

So do boxes of assorted sugars.

Muffins are displayed  through glass.

The cookies jars full of taste are on top of the counters.

Water drinks and frozen goods are in the frozen food case.

Photos, pictures, and licence plates cover the walls.

Coffee machines and coffee pots are behind the crowded counter.

It is here where ideas are digested.

For a mind's stomach.

My stomach is full.

Which leaves me with tasty thoughts.

I dream inside a plastic cup full of flavorful iced tea and coffee.



Jon Billet-12/27/15

Far Away From Near

                "Far Away From Near"




Stick the moisturizer up someone's rear.

The cars have all gone out of gear.

This ain't peculiar but is queer.

It isn't far away but quite near here.

Always shed that person's tear in their beer.

Are you my advocate peer?

To me that will stay dear.

So stay clear.

Stop quoting Lear.

Out of a putrid fear.



Jon Billet - 12/27/15 Dedicated To Cricket.

Sad Sunday

           "Sad Sunday"




It's just another bad day.

Fad daze.

Sad days.

A band plays in the park.

Dim lights don't see well after it turns dark.

Life is a lark.

Happy dogs will bark.

Everything goes with the Ark.

The holy covenant.

It makes beautiful scents out of no sense.


Poking fingers at people.

Let them have their fun.

In the dark sun.

Time escapes on the run.

It's all been done in a poetic pun.


Words can't say.

They are made up yesterday.

Tomorrow will never speak.

What you say reeks.

Won't last a five minute week.

Depend on how you seek.




Jon Billet- 12/26/15

Living On Borrowed Time

"Living On Borrowed Time"



Am I living on borrowed time?

It appears not.

The world lives on stolen time.

Is life in a rush to get done with?

A rush or a slow motion's picture.


Dreaming in color inside Van Gogh paintings.

Wandering into a heavy Tolstoy novel.

I live forever in poet's utopia.

Want to stay in never, never land.


I don't live in a city or the country.

Live in the suburbs.

Where the town folk have bigger mouths then their elephant ears can hear.

All, in a rush of precious seconds to go nowhere.

The grass seems greener there.


Cusses, I dare swear, into the deaf air.

What is fair, is fair.

Although, I'd like to get away from there.

I'm here to stay for another day.




Jon Billet

Dirty Laundry

"Dirty Laundry"



Life's laundry is a very dirty business.

A loss in the eyes of the dead ones.

My loves that were left behind.            

Their gain will be a lost one.

Get it any way you can.

For in the end it will kill you.

The love you make is equivalent with the crap you take.

Your colors run just for fun in a sun's pun.

The laughs you fake are the resounding smiles of a pitiful clown.

As you travel from one to another town.



You always want more, for the luggage you bought and sold in a dollar store.

You are really quite a bore and I can't find your front door.

Just watch you clean my house's floor.

So why don't you go out and steal more.

Before I get sore and even our score.

You, twelve twenty four, whore.



J. Billet's-12-24-15
To Juliana Quip

Alabama Woman

 "Alabama Woman"



Alabama woman, hope you love me a million times as much as I do you.

You're as hot as the Alabama summer sun.

When the southern heat burns the head and we get red.

I'm up in N.Y. and I miss your loving way.

Without you I feel tired and dead.

Recall all the words you said.

This makes me want to nibble on your ear.

Hear familiar soft spoken words.

Can smell your body's lilac scent.

I can't afford to pay New York City rent.

City winter eye sore unlike the breezy Southern Alabama's Gulf Shore.

Which makes me miss your kisses even more.

Seeing you in the summer is what's in store.

Can't wait to knock at your door.

Before you go to bed.

Ours is done not said.

Love south's cumulus clouds above.




Love Jon Billet- 12/23/15

Tuesday, December 22, 2015

Bottled Man

      "Bottled Man"




The bottled water man ran out of Poland Spring.

Although there was a ton under the sun.

I drink my fill and hope I don't spill.

Saw a man wearing diapers under his bluejeans.

Kings and Queens pee like race horses.

There's plenty to find , in a plastic cup, if you look hard enough.

More then a test tube full of the stuff.




By The Water Boy...

Foot Fetishes

   "Foot Fetishes"



I'd love to kiss only your feet.

One kiss for every foot.

Running on my feet and ruminating on them too.

While on a cloud, don't talk very loud.

It's the same crowd.

My arms never get sweaty and my feet aren't ready.

Toy feet and toy dogs.

Play with my toilet seat.

What's in are cool and neat!

Keno - play 5.

Don't  slow down - ARRIVE...

Winter's here so drown in my tear.



Jonathan Billet- 12/20/15

Speculation

       "Speculation"


Oral gratification is sexual stimulation.

People talking under the sidewalk.

The players balk nobody's squawk.

A rocking chair is rocking and rolling in heaven.

The tables are at Aroma too.

Gutter balls hear my money's falls.

Walls are full of sewer graffiti.

Out of the sewer comes peppermint green tea.

To be is free.

All I don't see.

What is over now is yet to be.

Delete, delete, delete.

This poem is complete.

On a spread's sheet.


Andy Bosch vs. Jonathan Billet

Wednesday, December 16, 2015

Messages From Fathers To Sons

"Messages From Fathers To Sons"




The long puns.

A broken record.

Speeds in a space place.

To the time of a rumba's rhyme.

3015's squirting waters copper quarters.

Redress of grievances.

The bad guys play with the good ones.


I live in San Francisco and New York at the same time.

11 in New York and 7 in San Francisco.

I must be in heaven.

Kick your stamps.

Stomp on the ground.

Sounds I hear.

Too much beer.

Steer clear.

What is far is near.

You never catch up to time.

Time is sublime, when it changes from a riddle into a rhyme.

You are divine.

So send the horoscope's sign.

Life is fine, in the Rhine.



Captain Moonlight     12-16-15

When The Shit Ran - I Hit The Fan

"When The Shit Ran - I Hit The Fan"





Give and take the teeth out of my mouth.

Puking in the pants.

Always throwing raving rants.

I can't see who I am at all.

My world is small.


The e-mails always sail through to you.

What can I do?

It's all code blue.

The day is new.

Always an apple banana stew.


Swimming in the lord's tears.

Got my peers.

They are all queers.

Without many fears.


I live a year at a time.

My life has no reason nor rhyme.

In the theater's mime.


Action redaction.

For a poem of mine.


Speak silently.

I can't hear a word your saying.

Owe you my paying.

It's weighing heavenly on my mind.

Already found what your going to find.


There are no laws or order.

My pants' mouth is in foul dis odor.

Have constipation of diarrhea.

Away with my problems down the drain.



Anonymous Bosch- 12/12/15

Crazy Tune

        "Crazy Tune"                                    




Out there they run around without any hair.

Totally nude like hairy bears.

Tell those people that it's impolite to stare.

It's well done not rare.

Life isn't always fair.

So if you go out there float by air.


Don't take a boat.

And talk in rote.

Write me a note about your trip.

Flip your lid's super id.

Current themes are all part of the schemes.

Rhymes on paper reams.

Like a newspaper sports teams.


Superman flies through metropolitan skies.

How a world cries.

As the people tell lies about how a nobody can fly in a sky.

They live as they die.

Without an explanation's reply.

Nothing upon which to rely.


From the crib to the tomb.

As we start on our way to heaven's womb.

Better yet to be in a tune's blaring boom.

Which is where I sit and stare in my house's room.


Jon Billet- Twelve Fifteen Fifteen

R.S.V.P.- Revive & Survive...


Looking For A Love Lost

  "Looking For A Love Lost"




Our message's reflection.

Looking dreamily into seasonal sunlit mirrors.

See your captivating eyes.

The reflective moment when you see my shadow in passing time.

A magical movement into space.

Sacred enlightened world of a deepest love.

Held tight in a loving embrace.

You, on my thoughts' revolving merry-go-round.

Curious were our minds' imaginations.

I was sitting at a table near you.

Deep into your magical soul for eternity.

Communicating in the words of ecstasy.

Million of miles in our travels around the world.

Silent star crossed lovers for life.



Jon Billet- 12/12/15

Flat Top Mugsy

                                   "Flat Top Mugsy"




To find the flat side of the moon, go to the flat top of your head.

Jupiter dropped out of U. Mass.

Mars, Venus, and Neptune matriculated at other schools.

There's a college for every planet in the universe.

A girl for every boy under the sun.

Nothing said, nothing done.

I'll kiss and hug you just for fun.

Life is a laugh and not a pun.



So with it, for a higher office, I run.

The President's residence.

Resident President.

In a precedence.

Never hesitant.

Not very pleasant to be a resident.

Selection of a galaxy leader.



Jon Billet-12/11/15

Subtracting Sheep In Your Sleep

"Subtracting Sheep In Your Sleep"




Count the sheep in your dreams before they die.

Even the ones who fly above your sky.

Nothing has been done over the sun.

Ones only one is still one.

At most one and one are two.

Not three or four.

The door key has many more.

That the super can always even a score.

While I'm away on a bus tour.

I'll check for footprints on the floor.

Only to get the landlord sore.

As God swore.

At the world that's really poor.

It's a drag and a bore.

Me and mine forever more.

No more war!



The Artist Named Anonymous Bosch or Jon Billet.

Poetry Of Politics

                    "Poetry Of Politics"




Is a poem's politics always the same.

Yes and no.

I really don't know.

Does it show in rhyme time?

Or in the theater of the mime?

Loving and leaving all for two nickels or a dime.

It ain't worth the plugged dollar's holler.

Like the earth, it makes pretty good fodder.

To feed the birds and the bees.

Wine's nectar sap from the trees.

Mental hospitals for consistency of caffeine's coffees.

Steering boats of a spectrum of colors in organic teas.

Multi-flavored toothpaste for sail.

All at the dentist's office under elephant tranquilizers.

I dreamed up one day.

Once upon a design.

Along the River Rhine.

Nine and nine is ninety nine.

Ask any highway sign.

In German Kilometers.

Not Chinese thermometers.

What's the temperature like outside my room?

In a candlelit tomb-

on the moon?

Planets in our solar system?

On the sun?

Or above the stars below.



Jon Billet To My Light Night - Andy
-12.08.15.

Grizzly Bear

      "Grizzly Bear"



I ask how and when?

Then it happens all over again.

Where hides behind the stair.

Which I don't think is fair.

It occurred to a bear.




The old grizzly shaved its body hair bare.

It's impolite to stare.

But we didn't care.

Vanished into thin air.

Never again did he show up there.

The moving moment he couldn't share.

Too late to spare.

A short life spent to which nothing can compare.



Jon Billet- 12.05.15

Cocky

"Cocky"



Is there coca behind every cloud?

It's raining loud.

On the bus' loudspeakers.

Quit bellyaching because behind every bellyache there is heartbreak.

You can take it or make it.

It's all coca's art nouveaux riches gift to me.

I can only see what is or not to be.

In a light blond sea of flavorful frozen tea.

Only to be set free in a mystic's song called Hanalei.

I once knew a man named Diamonds Dupree.

He wrote inspiring limerick poetry.

By the coastal sea.

In a sleepy land dreamed by me.

Are we all we claim to be?




Jon Billet to Morse's Band.-12.04.15


Dentist's Chair

      "Dentist's Chair"



My best thoughts come to me in my dental chair.

I'm always looking for my best garbage over the sun.

Under the sun, nothing has been done.

Astrologers of long ago thought so.

Although the past didn't go.

No matter how fast, it was always slow.

If you don't understand this, join the show.

It took me seven years to mellow.

So stop and always grow.

Aces high, deuces low.

The elephant's mouth is missing a molar.

So I thought, under laughing gas in the dental chair.

Out came a wisdom tooth of mine.

A simple rhyme which came out of my time.




Jon Billet - 12.04.15
Dedicated To My Dental Group & The Dudette


Lighting A Match

                                  "Lighting A Match"
                             


Imagine if there was no news but cartoons and comedies.

Loss of s{p}in doctors on the t.v., radio, and newspapers' press.

Nobody telling you what they think is happening or what the future holds.

Idiotic people would have to talk to themselves about nothing much.

The weather, where to go, and what to eat.

She takes a seat.

He picks his nose and gives prayers praise to god He's got anything to eat.



Life is more of a merry-go-round than a roller coaster.

We are spinning upside down.

Right side up.

Long and short.

Big and tall.

Yet, nothing at all.

A rubber's ball is three inches small.

It's about to explode and fall.

Like a meteorite down from outer space-

to the earth below.

It will put on quite a glowing show.

Trying to die in its own rhyme.

Tripping clumsily over the atmosphere's thousands of feet's time.

Cut up and shut up in a sky's tie dye's shirt.

Calling tear drops of rain to drench my apartment's roof.

I'm resting in peace at the head of my bed.



Jon Billet-12/03/15


The Water Spouts

                    "The Water Spouts"


The taps never leak in the water company.

I am thankful I have any at all.

Drinking too much of it.

Some Mid East and African countries have very little or none at all.

I only realize this on Yom Kippur and Thanksgiving.

When I give up and steal my water.

The human water fountain frontier's cafe.

Water will always come my way.

i hope-

I just sit and mope for the thirstiest of one's.


A transparency is not my thing.

Then you can see what I'm wearing under my clothes.

Nobody knows what clothes they end up wearing.


Tarot card and bridge are games I don't play.

Chess pieces are a mess to me and checkers were made to simple to be.


Can't I think about anything to write about?

How about somebody else?

How can that be done?

Only by reverse osmosis.


Magical star monies' flying machines.

Green caffeine's give you a trip around the world.


Sound goes down and I get fed up.

Get up and out of your dreams.

Fall down umbrella to skies above.

Pink and yellow clouds fly by my winter windows.

Snow fell in a mountainous well.


Jon Billet- 12/01/15

Tuesday, December 1, 2015

For Sweetness Success

"For Sweetness Success"

   
                                                       


Love is a given treat.

Watch lovers make their magical love call.

Love is everything after all.

Its universe is short and tall.

Makes the lovers feel small.

All they do all day is bawl.

The seasons fall.

I enter a wall.

It has no beginning or end like when love finds its hall.

To walk up and down through.

Lost my place looking for you.

When you were lost.

I found you at such a cost.

Don't have any bread to butter you up with.

Nothing between us is said, just read.

The world is dead and full of thick quicksand lead.



     
 Jon Billet For Andy - 11/30/15

missed miles

"missed miles"





I MISS YOUR SMILES BY MILES.

FORKS, KNIVES, AND SPOONS COME OUT OF THE GROUND.

LIKE THE RUINS OF ANCIENT TOMBS.

IN YOUR HOUSES ROOMS.

MY MOTHER AND AUNTS' SHRUNKEN WOMBS.

SO COME TO MY HOUSE BY SUNLIT'S NIGHT.

UNTIL THE START OF AN ECLIPSE'S DARK AFTERNOONS.

LIGHT BY THE BEGINNING OF NIGHT.

THE WORLD IS A SIGHT.

THAT HAS MANY MIND'S MIGHT.

WHERE IS THE FIGHT IN A UNIVERSAL FRIGHT?

KNOT THE KNOTS REALLY TIGHT.

I KNOW AND FEEL YOUR PLIGHT.

ON THIS WHITE, COLORLESS, NIGHT.



TO ANDY FROM JON B. - 11.29.15

Clouds On The Grounds

                              ''Clouds On The Grounds"





Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme clouds cover the grounds.

In colors of a rainbow after the rain has fallen.

I ride in my Rolls Royce quietly over mountaintops where the colors have disappeared.

Into a thin air's of a galaxy's trillion stars.

I own the copyrights to these stars and their galaxy.

Other galaxies are owned by the zombies in the far distant universe.



Black Chick

Green Eye


Yellow Sky



Helps them fly high in the outer sky.

Could never answer why.

When they see humans they let out a tiring sigh.

Is Pi 2Y?

For them it is.

To us, not.

Let us rest on the pot.




Jon Billet- Dedicated To A Buddy- Tony- 11/28/15

Mr. Minotti

                             "Mr. Minotti"





Mr. Minotti has a name you can't make up.

Typical teacher's name of history.

Ernie Rutherford and J.J. Thompson.

Look them up on Facebook and they are sure to show up.

Ask any teenage kid.

They will tell you food stories about the school cafeteria.

Is the food made of real ingredients?

It's seven a.m. and the school bells awaken me from my dream.

We are all traveling through space at an ever faster pace.

I just graduated Jr. High School.

Dreading the new kids at the High School.

They are too grown up like the teachers are.

Even have my Jr. High School Diploma.

I'm all grown up.

The problem with the High School kids is that they want to grow up.

They never will.

So my time will stand still if I ever grow up.

I'll be dead in the eternal heavenly outer space.

Can't wait to graduate from Nassau Community College.



Written by Rickert & Billet-11.27.15

Dreaming On My Feet

"Dreaming On My Feet"




I was sleeping in my dream.

Dreaming your dream.

You and I walked out of the dream.

We felt sleepy in my bed.

It has been a long and strenuous day in a century's dream.

The bathroom radiator is clanking and giving off steam.

A sky cloud is bursting at its seam.

Dreaming in a gin and tonic's bathtub.

Warm water wets me in my intoxicating slumbers.

I am half consciously, soaked to the bone.

Watching the sky brighten up in lightning strikes.

I can hear the loud thunderclaps, as I fully awaken.



The world is being pulled by a pulley and we are all being moved.

Circling around a sun, somewhere in the cosmos.

I float in space with a cosmonaut pilot ace.

Dream about the planets' phenomenal pace in a universal race.




                      Jon Billet-Revised 11/26/15

Thanksgiving Eve

"Thanksgiving Eve"



You are an art peace song's sublime.

It's light outside and the sun is starting to shine.

Your eyes light up as it does.

The life I live is mischievous mystery to me.

The one you live, is one of practicality.

I am an outside outcast socially.

It will be as it will be ostensibly.

Your loves secret is a possibility.

Life can be looked on, in poetic partiality.

A judge's mentality to the many.

What I say I can't see.

I have no idea what is to be.

But it only can happen if you're happy for me.

How fun to be among the free.

Like eating mashed potatoes in a cumulus cloud's sea.

At a table with stuffed turkey.

Apple pies fly by our sky, too.

Trillions of thanksgiving stars glow into your face.

Happy Thanksgiving, Andy.

Love Jon

Grain Of Sand

"Grain Of Sand"





Grains of sand fall down from the skies.

I can't see with my eyes.

Not for a mile after miles.

Just feel hot sand piles.

I'm running out of water.

Or is it a mirage?

Last thing I knew I was resting at the Camp Lejeune Emergency Room.

Dead to the world of a looney tune.

Hidden inside my hospital room.

Which is both my father's tomb and mother's womb.




Jon Billet
Dec 25, 2014