"Tinkle Down Theorem"
I'm starting to think that the tinkle down theory is drowning
every worker in the U.S. while letting the rich leak all over
the place.
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Monday, February 25, 2013
Y?
"Y?"
Pillars of salt sheets and paper cups.
Peanuts, toast, jelly, and roasted nuts.
Everybody entered their private ruts.
But they never lost their guts.
Bullet holes and stupid jokes.
Overheated cars in burnt smoke.
Conversations with the writing deaf.
He can't hear what was said.
To much lead in his head.
He's better red than dead.
A meal's masterpiece.
Prepared by the majestic master chef.
The babies cry on slabs in the morgue.
A pipe organ playing in the church choir.
Hypocritical liar with all of the desire.
Burn fire burn!
Such a passion for fashion!!!.
A cash-in on the latest fad.
An on-line ad.
It makes me happy to see this.
It's happy to be sad.
Silver nickels and a copper dime.
A hundred-dollar wanted rhyme.
A mental mime.
Oh! Crappy time.
Signs that tell us where to go.
Telling everything they could ever know.
Until winter's blizzard snow.
Where the obvious will never show.
Jon Billet 02/25/13
Pillars of salt sheets and paper cups.
Peanuts, toast, jelly, and roasted nuts.
Everybody entered their private ruts.
But they never lost their guts.
Bullet holes and stupid jokes.
Overheated cars in burnt smoke.
Conversations with the writing deaf.
He can't hear what was said.
To much lead in his head.
He's better red than dead.
A meal's masterpiece.
Prepared by the majestic master chef.
The babies cry on slabs in the morgue.
A pipe organ playing in the church choir.
Hypocritical liar with all of the desire.
Burn fire burn!
Such a passion for fashion!!!.
A cash-in on the latest fad.
An on-line ad.
It makes me happy to see this.
It's happy to be sad.
Silver nickels and a copper dime.
A hundred-dollar wanted rhyme.
A mental mime.
Oh! Crappy time.
Signs that tell us where to go.
Telling everything they could ever know.
Until winter's blizzard snow.
Where the obvious will never show.
Jon Billet 02/25/13
A Green Submarine Sandwich
"A Green Submarine Sandwich"
To some life may be backwards.
It's really forwards.
To some tails.
To others heads.
Only like the rest of the universe.
In slow motion speed.
There are no real set ages.
No boundary stages.
Life can't last forever.
Unless you think a second is infinite in space.
What's the difference?
Who cares?
Nobody burns stars for life.
It's a worthless million.
To a billion.
To a starving child it's five pennies for water.
Depends where you're coming from.
I haven't arrived yet.
So when will I leave and come back?
In my brand new suit and shiny shoes.
With my hair conked.
The ship is waiting for me.
At the port of my birth or entry.
Jonathan Billet 02/23/13
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Shadows In The Dark
"Shadows In The Dark"
Shadows running around in the dark nights.
Orgasms reaching a new fantasy's heights.
Sweating lovers' bodies attached to each other.
Sunlight sparkles rays all around the darkened house.
This is where they lay as loud as a noisy mouse.
Squeaking and squealing in pleasure's utter delights.
Bound by life's wrongs and rights.
Into new and unraveled flying flights.
Astounded by their eye's sights.
The friction they feel is phenomenal.
Almost a cosmic astronomical.
Colored spots appear in front of these lovers' frontal lobes.
Like sixties' strobes.
Silver and psychedelic multi-hues of music flash before the dancers.
Prancer's under a day light white moon.
Soon to be a normal shape.
In an unmistaken heaven's vineyard of the grape.
By Jonathan Billet 12/19/13
My High
"My High"
When I get complimented on my writings my heart begins to clap.
My hands and feet begin to clap also.
I can hear the audience clap.
Like a thunder clap my hear soars to new heights.
I love turning people on.
It doesn't have to be drugs, which can mess up your mind.
But I prefer to write to get myself and people around me high on my stuff.
It's like smoking Nepalese hashish.
Or a person tripping in outer space.
The sun provides my energy.
Love it!
By Jonathan Billet 12/16/13
When I get complimented on my writings my heart begins to clap.
My hands and feet begin to clap also.
I can hear the audience clap.
Like a thunder clap my hear soars to new heights.
I love turning people on.
It doesn't have to be drugs, which can mess up your mind.
But I prefer to write to get myself and people around me high on my stuff.
It's like smoking Nepalese hashish.
Or a person tripping in outer space.
The sun provides my energy.
Love it!
By Jonathan Billet 12/16/13
The Rich Got Richer
"THE RICH GOT RICHER"
Incomes rose 11 percent in 2010 and 2011
for the top 1 percent of earners, but fell
0.4 percent for everybody else.
Saturday Feb.16, 2013
New York Times
My question would have to be what about
2012 and 2013 so far?
A quote of mine "Most of the country eats
the shit, while the rest take it."
Incomes rose 11 percent in 2010 and 2011
for the top 1 percent of earners, but fell
0.4 percent for everybody else.
Saturday Feb.16, 2013
New York Times
My question would have to be what about
2012 and 2013 so far?
A quote of mine "Most of the country eats
the shit, while the rest take it."
My Old Acquaintances
"My Old Acquaintances"
My poetry is really horrid contrasted with other poets' work.
My poetry is really horrid contrasted with other poets' work.
But it's all part of the same trade.
I hear very little gossip about my old group of friends.
They only gossip about what a trouble maker I was.
I have left the old crowd for greener grounds.
They were all really phonies and still are.
Sometimes I laugh so hard at these shits I used to know.
I laugh so hard I take them in my pants.
Uranus is a bigger planet but they wouldn't be heavy there.
It's less dense and they wouldn't weigh so much on Your Anus.
All of the crap weighs less than all the craps in America's toilets.
Heavyweight knock them out!
Jon Billet
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