"Resting Place"
Bury me in a sea of ashes.
Near a tree in New Zealand.
Where I can see but not go near the koala bears and kangaroos.
Never would keep them as my pets.
Someday they will be in the museum of natural history.
The human' oddity comic commodity.
Underneath the streets.
Below the moon.
Moonbeams play with your eyes.
Stay away!!!...
Please, peace, and carrots.
Love you - Jon Billet's
08/10/2015
Tuesday, August 11, 2015
Sunday, August 9, 2015
My Lord
"My Lord"
Is he dead?
No, the wind is below his head.
Underneath the bed.
Scared and hiding from the outside world.
Served exquisite Peruvian avocado salads at Machu picchu.
Food, he hasn't eaten in four thousand years.
The ace plays poker with computer chips.
Which to him seems like making shrimp dips.
Never takes business trips.
Journeys on styrofoam ships.
The deity has wide hips.
The world feeds him scraps.
Wants them to starve like he does.
Don't hold your breath.
This deity will never find out!...
Andy will never share her secrets.
She lives in my heart.
09/09/2015 -
By Jonathan Billet
Is he dead?
No, the wind is below his head.
Underneath the bed.
Scared and hiding from the outside world.
Served exquisite Peruvian avocado salads at Machu picchu.
Food, he hasn't eaten in four thousand years.
The ace plays poker with computer chips.
Which to him seems like making shrimp dips.
Never takes business trips.
Journeys on styrofoam ships.
The deity has wide hips.
The world feeds him scraps.
Wants them to starve like he does.
Don't hold your breath.
This deity will never find out!...
Andy will never share her secrets.
She lives in my heart.
09/09/2015 -
By Jonathan Billet
Friday, August 7, 2015
Hindi Poetry
"Hindi Poetry"
In you I must confide.
I tried to hide my suicide.
Rapping and hacking a day away.
A translation from Spanish into English.
From the reality into a dream.
A solid into a liquid.
Liquid into gas.
Prison to freedom.
Inside into outside.
The crib to the grave.
From inside Sing Sing.
Singing a song.
I can't be wrong.
Only left right.
By Jonathan Billet-07.30.15 - To A Love
In you I must confide.
I tried to hide my suicide.
Rapping and hacking a day away.
A translation from Spanish into English.
From the reality into a dream.
A solid into a liquid.
Liquid into gas.
Prison to freedom.
Inside into outside.
The crib to the grave.
From inside Sing Sing.
Singing a song.
I can't be wrong.
Only left right.
By Jonathan Billet-07.30.15 - To A Love
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
Glassed Beer
"Glassed Beer"
Spies have dripping eyes in their pizzapies.
Highs are found in his tonics and lies.
The rainbow skies pass us by in knotted tie dyes.
There's a recorder in each and every one of them.
They have no R.E.M.
Send a pen when the time is near.
There was nothing to fear but fear.
Sounded kind of weird.
It wasn't clear.
We couldn't hear.
Nobody fear.
A six pack of pabst blue ribbon malt liquors' beer.
The hops taste better by the year.
Making me shed a tear.
In my undergarments gear.
So close yet so far from my rear.
by Jonathan Billet's 08.03.2150
Spies have dripping eyes in their pizzapies.
Highs are found in his tonics and lies.
The rainbow skies pass us by in knotted tie dyes.
There's a recorder in each and every one of them.
They have no R.E.M.
Send a pen when the time is near.
There was nothing to fear but fear.
Sounded kind of weird.
It wasn't clear.
We couldn't hear.
Nobody fear.
A six pack of pabst blue ribbon malt liquors' beer.
The hops taste better by the year.
Making me shed a tear.
In my undergarments gear.
So close yet so far from my rear.
by Jonathan Billet's 08.03.2150
City Bays
"City Bays"
The jet engines, blasting and blowing, really got me going.
Showing a blue moon singing an old love tune.
Watching Do Ho, on my favorite television show, Hawaii-Five-O.
While The San Francisco Bay came into view.
Something spellbinding and new.
When I stepped down from the heavens above.
The mind is dead but my body is kept well fed.
A taxi cab's buddha drove me into the city of love.
From there I went to Chestnut Street and took a seat.
I saw a seagull flying in the air with all its fanfare.
Turned into a rhesus monkey.
Metamorphosises from a monkey to an elephant.
Playing on an electric harpsichord.
Jupiter's June's crescent of a moon.
Come out in sunday brunch's confectionary establishment's afternoon.
The costumed elephant's music made the women faint and croon.
I couldn't stand the drought's hot afternoon June's summertime day.
Just wanted to get away, this time to stay away, from the city, by the bay.
by Jonathan Billet- 08.03.2015
The jet engines, blasting and blowing, really got me going.
Showing a blue moon singing an old love tune.
Watching Do Ho, on my favorite television show, Hawaii-Five-O.
While The San Francisco Bay came into view.
Something spellbinding and new.
When I stepped down from the heavens above.
The mind is dead but my body is kept well fed.
A taxi cab's buddha drove me into the city of love.
From there I went to Chestnut Street and took a seat.
I saw a seagull flying in the air with all its fanfare.
Turned into a rhesus monkey.
Metamorphosises from a monkey to an elephant.
Playing on an electric harpsichord.
Jupiter's June's crescent of a moon.
Come out in sunday brunch's confectionary establishment's afternoon.
The costumed elephant's music made the women faint and croon.
I couldn't stand the drought's hot afternoon June's summertime day.
Just wanted to get away, this time to stay away, from the city, by the bay.
by Jonathan Billet- 08.03.2015
Sunday, August 2, 2015
Hot Blooded American
"Hot Blooded American"
I'm really so cool it's hot.
My head is working in slow motion.
The world spins rapidly, in a rush to get nowhere.
Nothing for something and something for nothing.
Hell's bells ring while quartets sing.
Songs whispered.
The world's going to the pot.
Who's not?
Hit you in the G's s spot.
Worth twenty billion Grand.
I have have your support.
Until your bodies run short.
See you in heaven's court.
By Jonathan Billet
07/31/2015-Revised 08.02.15
I'm really so cool it's hot.
My head is working in slow motion.
The world spins rapidly, in a rush to get nowhere.
Nothing for something and something for nothing.
Hell's bells ring while quartets sing.
Songs whispered.
The world's going to the pot.
Who's not?
Hit you in the G's s spot.
Worth twenty billion Grand.
I have have your support.
Until your bodies run short.
See you in heaven's court.
By Jonathan Billet
07/31/2015-Revised 08.02.15
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)