Shallow Moon

"Shallow Moon"

Running away from sun shadows.

Getting lost in the hours.

Hiding inside big dumpsters.

Joker jumping out and running down the street.

My feet walk awhile into a restaurant where I take a seat.

I pick up a bite to eat.

Can hear a distant musical beat .

I know it's time to go to sleep.

Dreamed I was in trouble deep.

Falling off a mountain that was steep.

I fell into a dark cave.

Didn't feel well because it was like being in hell.

My mind starts to swell.

Ideas jell into my head as I lay in bed.

Morning breaks.

The shopkeepers are getting ready to sell.

Listen to a bell. 

Singing a ringing.

I answer my door as a package hits the floor above the store.

But I feel it's impending doom.

Did I wake up too soon?

Underneath the shallow moon.

I hear a new tune.

By Jon Billet..._.-02-05-2015

B4 The World Started

"B4 The World Started"

Baseball batter-

Flour power-

Pitter patter-

Sour power-

In another hour.

Go slow - Past fast.

Broken window shade-

Thoughts fade-

Through life's oceans tides we wade-

Raining tangy lemonade in Miami-Dade.

Chiquita bonita Havana banana.

Majestic mansion made in Savanna.

Poquito bonito sunshine funtime. 

The world's is worth a copper dime.

Bad direction hasn't any times sign.

Don't get a traffic fine.

Picket white fence has a French ticket.

Gone to a seance's trance in France.

Teach me how to dance in a prance.

By Jonathan Billet-

02.04.-2015._.

The Flower Showers

"The Flower Showers"

Time for a hot and heavenly rain shower.

Don't let it get sour.

You grow stronger by the hour.

Flour has power.

My eyes will run in the sun.

The summer of the loved.

Summers of loving.

Loving summer.

A summer love.

I was lifted high in the sun's sky.

In the summer of loves.

I got to the Haight late for my date with Big Dee.

Sugar in packets.

Stirring soy milk into coffee.

Tonight the Big Dee will make love with me.

We won't be able to see clearly.

But what is will be.

Love is for free.

By Mr. B alias Jon Billet...02.04.2015      

The Uncertain Past

                                          "The Uncertain Past"

Don't have to speed in slow motion's past.

It goes too fast.

I think you were the greatest poet who ever lived at Columbia University.

I wrote you so.

As you well know.

The real in heaven is the unexpected.

In hell it's already known but never shown.

Time's lines are the unknown in a ninicking mime's rhyme.

Singers sing a song while I try to sing along.

That can't be right or wrong.

But reality can be unknown.

Listening to a telephone's ring.

I find it hard to fathom in a ladder's climb to the top.

A book of poems at last.

Something I hoped for in my past.

Never and forever, always.

Life is like a mystery maze.

To enjoy while it plays.

To live while it lasts on its many fasts.

It's what I strive for to thrive in my dive.

A librarian helped me survive in my parched throat quenching thirst to stay alive.

Does what he says or feels like saying.

A mystery even to a poet.

You just never know it.   

Life pays by a sand whipped bays.

Crying days.

An orange haze for yesterday's todays.

Cameo roles in life's plays.

What comes always stays.

In Jagger's mid sunny Mays.

Where I lose the ways?

Forward to the stars of a haven heavens of these plays.

See you in a few days.

In April skies blue highs.

Where nothing was done wrong in another poet's songs.

Heed its call or you are sure to fall.

By Captain Moonlight's song alias J. Billet.

on 02.03.2015

Still Water Lies

"Still Water Lies"

Still waters learn how to float by rote.

Rivers turn into streams made up in our dreams.

It seems that people don't talk but let out quiet screams.

The Winter birds fly as Spring and Fall cry a whispering sigh.

The songs they sing will turn into a new thing.

Making the vivid painting's colors Summer again.

The sunshine grows stronger, then weak again.

In the Winter's night I pray that we may eat in warmth and light.

During an east coast winter flurry.

My worry is that summer's bright heat will rob some of sleep.

But it will never weep and in our hearts it will stay for all the seasons to keep.

The mountains we climb are steep but not too deep.

By Jonathan Billet 

-02-03-2015

Sunday Saturn's Streak Of Lightning

"Sunday Saturn's Streak Of Lightning"

The water floats with the boats.

Rocks burn up in outer space. 

Hidden masks have no face.

Berkeley is where they threw mace in inner space.

In World War I, a pilot wasn't a King but an Ace.

I can't hit a homerun but slowly race across first base.

It's a dilemma of old age in the human race.

Not to waste but let's make haste.

That's really fate.

Life's nothing to hate.

So smash a Jewish wine glass and break a Greek plate to celebrate.

Baby patch kids play with baby patch dolls.

In a patch of sand in a sandbox.

This brings us back to burning space rocks.

Who is it that mocks the school of hard knocks?

Certainly must be Houdini opening up a magical lockbox.

Knocking, at the bank's door as it automatically locks.

So I'm stuck inside.

I've been taken for a ride.

In a rising tide.

By Jonathan Billet-02-01-2014-.-.-...

Time's

                           "Time's"

Time has no beginning or ending.

Neither does a straight line or the universe's broken holes in the clock.

All the world's clocks tell a different time of day.

It's seven o 'clock here and eleven in heaven.

Time is a difference in different countries.

It doesn't know the time of day or what it may become.

It's independent of the position you're coming from.

I don't care what the world has time for.

Now or the B4.

Solar systems and galaxies have different locations at dissimilar times of the days.

Inner and outer space have opposite times.

Causing nuclear reactors to blow their volcanic tops.

History has different thoughts in time.

It has no responsiveness that I can surmise.

No responsibility the same as me.

We try not to be obvious with what is copy.

It's more like we're mimicking rhyme.

When it's paradoxical to all mankind.

Everything in the world is insanity.

Leaving only the universe to remain magically sane.

Superman's really a meek Clark Kent of The Minor News.

All the inkblots ready to spill.

It doesn't know how to spell correctly.

It's so ill!!!...

i!i!i!.

By Jonny Billet's