DESPITE IT'S FLAWS I'M CERTAIN I LIVE IN THE
GREATEST COUNTRY IN THE WORLD. HAPPY
4TH OF JULY TO ONE AND ALL!!!...
Monday, July 6, 2015
Cloud Formation # 3
"Cloud Formation #3"
Life is a comic giggle.
Climbed out of the window and up the stairs.
To the planet's sunshine.
Had to stand on my hands, at the end of an infinite line.
Radiator steam on full, as my tea kettle sings its songs.
Barren in a dry sky.
Revealing only empty clouds.
It hot up here.
A last call for beers.
My icicle's smoke reappears.
Then catches fire.
Life is mysterious.
Multiplication by lost air.
Addition's rendition, in all of its beautiful intuition.
By Jonathan Billet-
07-03-2015...
Life is a comic giggle.
Climbed out of the window and up the stairs.
To the planet's sunshine.
Had to stand on my hands, at the end of an infinite line.
Radiator steam on full, as my tea kettle sings its songs.
Barren in a dry sky.
Revealing only empty clouds.
It hot up here.
A last call for beers.
My icicle's smoke reappears.
Then catches fire.
Life is mysterious.
Multiplication by lost air.
Addition's rendition, in all of its beautiful intuition.
By Jonathan Billet-
07-03-2015...
Thursday, July 2, 2015
Newspaper Mache
"Newspaper Mache"
I've been writing about passed time which I missed.
All people miss time.
Just a matter of how much it's missed.
I am a partial part in a teen's scene of rainbows' hues' color schemes.
60's tye dye shirt on backwards.
One kid I saw had on two different sneakers and was wearing a purple superman cape.
Has a green S on it.
He works for the Daily Planet's Worker.
Clark Kent and Phil Reisman work for the same paper.
I wear my pants inside out at the L.M.C. - T.V. studios.
Don't know about W.V.O.X.
Speaking Hindi, and reciting poetry in it, on the air.
In the clouds.
Don't subscribe to any of the publications you were published in.
Never been published.
Read a book called, "The Start Of The Steal."
Got to walk the talk!
Be a walkie talkie.
Can't speak through the phones that don't have dial tones.
Don't own any telephones.
Radios, computers, or televisions.
Lights are limited to certain times of the day, where I live.
By Anonymous Bosch alias Col. Cornflake a.k.a. Major Garbage
- 07/01/15
I've been writing about passed time which I missed.
All people miss time.
Just a matter of how much it's missed.
I am a partial part in a teen's scene of rainbows' hues' color schemes.
60's tye dye shirt on backwards.
One kid I saw had on two different sneakers and was wearing a purple superman cape.
Has a green S on it.
He works for the Daily Planet's Worker.
Clark Kent and Phil Reisman work for the same paper.
I wear my pants inside out at the L.M.C. - T.V. studios.
Don't know about W.V.O.X.
Speaking Hindi, and reciting poetry in it, on the air.
In the clouds.
Don't subscribe to any of the publications you were published in.
Never been published.
Read a book called, "The Start Of The Steal."
Got to walk the talk!
Be a walkie talkie.
Can't speak through the phones that don't have dial tones.
Don't own any telephones.
Radios, computers, or televisions.
Lights are limited to certain times of the day, where I live.
By Anonymous Bosch alias Col. Cornflake a.k.a. Major Garbage
- 07/01/15
Fran San Cisco
"Fran San Cisco"
Unspoken words.
Poets sing ring.
The ice cream machine was part of the scene on Polk St. in the city of San Francisco.
The promised land for all.
A new call in my fall.
Part of the impossible situation.
All across our nation.
I picked it up on my television station.
L. M. C. -T.V.
V is for a voice I never had.
As a part of the silent show.
Get the fuzzy snow on my television's show.
Row my boat in a dream's moat.
There was snow this San Francisco's summer.
Which can blow the mind.
If you can catch this find.
In this ringing time for a platinum dime's head.
What I heard spoken but not said.
A beatnik's dead.
My face turned red,
A face to another place.
In San Francisco's red Golden Gate's cosmos out in space.
By Major Garbage.
Unspoken words.
Poets sing ring.
The ice cream machine was part of the scene on Polk St. in the city of San Francisco.
The promised land for all.
A new call in my fall.
Part of the impossible situation.
All across our nation.
I picked it up on my television station.
L. M. C. -T.V.
V is for a voice I never had.
As a part of the silent show.
Get the fuzzy snow on my television's show.
Row my boat in a dream's moat.
There was snow this San Francisco's summer.
Which can blow the mind.
If you can catch this find.
In this ringing time for a platinum dime's head.
What I heard spoken but not said.
A beatnik's dead.
My face turned red,
A face to another place.
In San Francisco's red Golden Gate's cosmos out in space.
By Major Garbage.
Who Is We
"Who Is We"
Who are you?
Ain't you me?
Do I belong to you?
I appear to.
Do you belong to me?
Or as I see you to be?
Taken or free?
Oui, oui, or no, no?
Will you ever let me go?
Don't-
Stay!...
At least for today.
Send an old photograph with your autograph!
I walked outside in the middle of the afternoon.
Soon to be total eclipse of your phase's sun.
Even saw the moon June.
Love you Lisa.
You just keep me hangin' around.
My messy old town.
Sue Billet
P.S.S.S. -R-S-V-P-
Who are you?
Ain't you me?
Do I belong to you?
I appear to.
Do you belong to me?
Or as I see you to be?
Taken or free?
Oui, oui, or no, no?
Will you ever let me go?
Don't-
Stay!...
At least for today.
Send an old photograph with your autograph!
I walked outside in the middle of the afternoon.
Soon to be total eclipse of your phase's sun.
Even saw the moon June.
Love you Lisa.
You just keep me hangin' around.
My messy old town.
Sue Billet
P.S.S.S. -R-S-V-P-
Deja Vu Dreams
"Deja Vu Dreams"
I got telephone calls from either Chapel Hill N.C. or San Bernardino Co., California.
Remembering parts of a cataclysmic dream I had for one night.
It lasted a lifetime of mine.
Couldn't read the sign.
I fell on the street's sidewalk and hit my head hard two times.
Two, nine times, is eighteen.
That's how old I was in my dream.
Lived to be fifteen.
Like a sexual scene from a movie screen.
Two screwy ashtrays' glass eyes in an ophthalmology clinic.
Can't see with all that smoke blowing my way.
Can barely breathe either, in the deja vu's dream.
The glass ship sails in a wooden jug.
The end of a new start's beginning.
By Randy Billet- 06-27-15
I got telephone calls from either Chapel Hill N.C. or San Bernardino Co., California.
Remembering parts of a cataclysmic dream I had for one night.
It lasted a lifetime of mine.
Couldn't read the sign.
I fell on the street's sidewalk and hit my head hard two times.
Two, nine times, is eighteen.
That's how old I was in my dream.
Lived to be fifteen.
Like a sexual scene from a movie screen.
Two screwy ashtrays' glass eyes in an ophthalmology clinic.
Can't see with all that smoke blowing my way.
Can barely breathe either, in the deja vu's dream.
The glass ship sails in a wooden jug.
The end of a new start's beginning.
By Randy Billet- 06-27-15
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