"I'M A BABY, I WEAR DIAPERS ON MY HEAD."
- Jon Billet
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Phony Writing
"Phony Writing"
You don't know if it's going to rain on Monday.
Monday knows.
Monday even knows what the weather will be like for the rest of Mondays.
So do the other days of the week.
A banana and a pear couldn't care.
Neither does the sky as it passes by.
I drink air and pee waterfalls.
Cars don't run on gas.
They run on people.
The holes in the head are almost as big as the rear's ears.
Why not be crazy?
Life is!
Time is passed and so is everything we see.
Like a phony TV screen, we can't be seen.
It's not you I love, it's your mind.
Living elephants can sit on ears.
I can't stand on my feet but can walk on my hands.
The butterflies cry blue and white skies.
All your faces start showing up in other races.
Are we all in different places?
You don't know if it's going to rain on Monday.
Monday knows.
Monday even knows what the weather will be like for the rest of Mondays.
So do the other days of the week.
A banana and a pear couldn't care.
Neither does the sky as it passes by.
I drink air and pee waterfalls.
Cars don't run on gas.
They run on people.
The holes in the head are almost as big as the rear's ears.
Why not be crazy?
Life is!
Time is passed and so is everything we see.
Like a phony TV screen, we can't be seen.
It's not you I love, it's your mind.
Living elephants can sit on ears.
I can't stand on my feet but can walk on my hands.
The butterflies cry blue and white skies.
All your faces start showing up in other races.
Are we all in different places?
Jonathan Billet - Junior
Dope's High - 1969
“Dope’s High – 1969”
Pin-wheeled eyes
Black skies.
Thought I died.
Cop knew what I was up to.
Red-shot eyes.
Scum’s skies.
Heroin highs.
Don’t laugh-it cries
Like all shit, it attracts flies.
Get dried, bent, and die.
Suck your toes.
Blow your nose.
Snot runs from it.
Like shit.
Zip your ass.
Hounds of hell pursue.
Don’t live a life of despair.
Smell God’s clean air.
Billet’s Nightmare Past
2011 – Summers’ Lat
Love Lost
“Love Lost”
My brother died in God’s tears.
Three days to this morning’s years.
In August rains.
I live with him in my soul.
Death took you, my brother.
Spring will last forever in your heart.
You and I will never part.
I stand alone but together with you.
Our tears cry for all the universe’s endless years.
My brother, you helped a friend last night.
He was really I.
All of the people of the world are really you, my beautiful brother.
I knelt down on the ground to pick you up.
God will protect us, my brother.
To A Brother
From J. Billet
Friday, August 19, 2011
The Mitvoh's Bar Song
"The Mitvoh's Bar Song"
(To be sung without a key)
Baruch Ata Adonai. I thought I saw a see. I did see a saw Android Adanoi-Elohanu Shecked! No Speaka De Ingles. No Speaka Mas De Mas. Tu Loco En Su Cabeza. Y Mi. Et Tu? Pray to the big butterfly in the liquid blue sky. Below us only green pastures of plenty. Shalom! Amen.
J. Billet's
Written On The 12th Anniversary Of His 2nd Birthday Party
(To be sung without a key)
Baruch Ata Adonai. I thought I saw a see. I did see a saw Android Adanoi-Elohanu Shecked! No Speaka De Ingles. No Speaka Mas De Mas. Tu Loco En Su Cabeza. Y Mi. Et Tu? Pray to the big butterfly in the liquid blue sky. Below us only green pastures of plenty. Shalom! Amen.
J. Billet's
Written On The 12th Anniversary Of His 2nd Birthday Party
Untyping Written Writing
"Untyping Written Writing"
I take away all the licenses from kids who run lemonade stands and support the bums who use squeegee sponges to wash dirty cars. Smoke my cigar while eating caviar from a mayonnaise jar. I am resting my head on a pillow and sun tanning myself on a bench in Westchester County. My Mac was fried at McDonald's and I bumped into Harry Burrito on Chatsworth Avenue. In the summertime heat I'm like a Polar Bear getting a chilly reception at all the ice cream shops in suburbia. I'm always running to the local bank to get my free supply of pens. I love to flick my Bic, as I can't afford a Mont Blanc like all the big shot executives.
Oh me! Oh my! Come si, come รงa. Ra Ta, Ta. God Ra! How far do we go? Let our garden grow! We're painting the sun just for fun. Chair is picking at my rear and my nose is so red, it could explode. Life is not to be taken seriously, but with a grain of pepper, which will make all the noses blow up. Blow up in my face, then I'd be in another place in this outer space. I hate the masters' race. They have problems concentrating and belong in summer camps for the winter.
Doc, perform an anal-ectomy on my head and try to find a brain. At vocational school I wanted to be a cowboy, a ship's captain, or an Indian chief. I didn't know the difference and still can't understand it. This life is like a libation in a movie's cartoon animation. P.S. Don't try opening windows with bent forks.
Dedicated to Jake
From Jon Billet
I take away all the licenses from kids who run lemonade stands and support the bums who use squeegee sponges to wash dirty cars. Smoke my cigar while eating caviar from a mayonnaise jar. I am resting my head on a pillow and sun tanning myself on a bench in Westchester County. My Mac was fried at McDonald's and I bumped into Harry Burrito on Chatsworth Avenue. In the summertime heat I'm like a Polar Bear getting a chilly reception at all the ice cream shops in suburbia. I'm always running to the local bank to get my free supply of pens. I love to flick my Bic, as I can't afford a Mont Blanc like all the big shot executives.
Oh me! Oh my! Come si, come รงa. Ra Ta, Ta. God Ra! How far do we go? Let our garden grow! We're painting the sun just for fun. Chair is picking at my rear and my nose is so red, it could explode. Life is not to be taken seriously, but with a grain of pepper, which will make all the noses blow up. Blow up in my face, then I'd be in another place in this outer space. I hate the masters' race. They have problems concentrating and belong in summer camps for the winter.
Doc, perform an anal-ectomy on my head and try to find a brain. At vocational school I wanted to be a cowboy, a ship's captain, or an Indian chief. I didn't know the difference and still can't understand it. This life is like a libation in a movie's cartoon animation. P.S. Don't try opening windows with bent forks.
Dedicated to Jake
From Jon Billet
Bent Space
"Bent Space"
Trying to share words.
Wooden nickels and plugged dimes.
Dignity is self-worth.
Give a sigh, as the money passes you by.
Live and let the world get its high!
Why die?
Fly by.
Fly high.
Fly on! Fly on! Turned on by the tapioca sky!
Like a sparrow, mark your trail.
Poet, write like a Van Gogh and read like an Edgar Allen Poe.
Twisted dace flowing out of its moving moment's space.
The mountainous heads geysers' water shoots every place!
By Rocktop Celeryhead
Alias J. Billet's
Trying to share words.
Wooden nickels and plugged dimes.
Dignity is self-worth.
Give a sigh, as the money passes you by.
Live and let the world get its high!
Why die?
Fly by.
Fly high.
Fly on! Fly on! Turned on by the tapioca sky!
Like a sparrow, mark your trail.
Poet, write like a Van Gogh and read like an Edgar Allen Poe.
Twisted dace flowing out of its moving moment's space.
The mountainous heads geysers' water shoots every place!
By Rocktop Celeryhead
Alias J. Billet's
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