My Happy Family

         "My Happy Family"



I'll love to be prying.

If I ever stop crying for the family.

When I'm flying.

Drop dying.

On a drought's drying hot afternoon.

Later than soon.

In the desert's funky perfume.



By Jonathan Billet

Forgive Me Andy

08/18/2015

The Tube

                                                     "The Tube"





My orange tube is shot.

The television set got too hot.

Unlike the walls' halls, it's not the doctor's inkblot.

A Freudian puzzle.

Pulling on me like a horse's muzzle.

Did my life have to be so subtle?

I can still remember Harvard's Monson Academy headmaster. a scholar. named Mr. Tuttle.

A Harvard Harvest jeweler's moon.

Left before it got later than soon.

Found my first crush inside a woman's womb.

With a golden spoon.

Knives and forks of platinum's afternoon.

Always playing a new tune above on 90.7 W.F.U.V.

Below is only a hot stove full of my first true love.

In the Haight's golden red gate.

A ticket to the billet.

At a different date.

Let the sun shine forever on Andy plate.

My soul's mate.

Eternity's fate.





By Jonathan Billet-

08/16/2015

The Known Things

"The Known Things"





Time hides me in the future forever.

The present and the past remain a mystery to what will occur.

Nothing is owned but the unowned.

Only time is bought.

Life is precious and sold for a price.

True stories could be nice.

Only love has a good ending.

All my love I will be sending.

When I leave the universe.

Hell's bells, I'll hear first.

Followed by heavenly chants.

In the guise of blue skies, and white moonlight.

The cosmos eternal universe's night.




By Jonathan Billet-

08.16.2015

Prairie Schooner

      "Prairie Schooner"




Traveling near the sound.

Driving up and down the town.

While a police megaphone let's out a blaring sound.

This I hear on the rebound.



The country is a fun place to visit.

The cows graze on grass and granola bars.

Under billions of lit up stars.

They guide my way.

And will stay until day.

I feel as though I'm living in an actor's play.

Where the man in the moon will have his say.

Off earth and on Broadway.



Times Square is not really there.

Life isn't always fair.

Especially when it gets in your hair.

So be a doer.

Don't make the world any bluer.

Time traveling is for the fewer.

Many of them aren't among the old but the newer.



Plastic garbage clogs the sewer.

I must make love to her.

Better late than sooner.

Will sail on a phantom prairie schooner.

Rocking to the sound of a piano tuner.




End - Jon Billet - 08.16.2016

It's Hot In Heaven

                                                   "It's Hot In Heaven"

Writing to Reno.

Riding To Las Vegas.

Spinning top in the wind.

Plastic cup's bottom moving on water.

Dogs being watered like gardens.

Wild windy daze speaks no sense.

Writes what it says.

Its hot in heaven and colder than hell.

Such is life, but I love it so!....
               
My forward is backward, toward the light.

I drive only so far in the climatic change with my car.

I have weakness in strength in the length of rhyme.

I'm sorry I haven't got a golden dime.

Nor day of time.

Hear things with my eyes wide opened.

See them with my ears.

Don't drink beers.

Calm your fears.

Too many cloud's tears.

Starch in your shirt but not in your pasta.

Boys shouldn't pee on their fingers.

Girls don't piss on the seat.



By Jonathan Billet
08.14.2015

Art models

   "Art models"


I'm mind sleeping.

To remember the dreams as my thoughts focus.

Fantastic recall that I have every night.

Dreaming I'm at Purchase College painting absorbing and enthralling theater.

Painted the artist models acting in a dream's play with rags and brushes on canvas.



Your reflected shadowed eyes scattered through the skies.

A warmth you have that heats up the sun.

You help me survive.

Thanks for being alive.

Love you my friend.


By Jonathan Billet
09.28.2014

T.V. Toilet Poetry

"T.V. Toilet Poetry"

Knock out the walls.

Slide down the fun halls.

After all we don't belong anywhere after all might be-

said and done.

Never from the rose petals of the sun.

Not from anyone's gun.

Life is as light as a feather, yet weighs a ton.

Everything is left unsung and never well done.

In the heaven days' hell.

Where I fell.

Into a wishing well.

To be lost in the race's trot.

Do we just rot?

Living in the inkblots' dots.

I think not.

But I live high on the pot.

Constantly flushings nothings down prison's toilet.

Yours Forever-

And Never.

Jon Billet

08.13.2015 - Revised