A Sweet Thing

"A Sweet Thing"

You are all sweet things,

a butterfly sings.

The door rings, 

and you bring it to light,

on a warm spring night,

When nothing is right.

Nothing became everything.

Birds wing in evening spring.

Dong Ding,

Ding Dong.

We bounce like a China doll's ping pong,

all the night long.

To you nothing can compare,

in a still and dark, cloudy, starless, night's air,

you make love's deal fair.

My love is almost complete,

without despair to compete.

I clap my hands and feet,

to your rhyming beat.

You make people move,

when you have a seat.

I catch fire to your body's

flaming suns' desire.

It's like being electrocuted,

on a hot railroad wire.

At night I like to sneak a peak,

and watch your heavenly sleep.

Is this life bliss?

I reach for a kiss.

I walk on your dream's trail,

following your ship's setting sail.

All else is mail ready for my garbage pail.

Your art is made from the artist's heart.

You make life stop and start.

We will never be apart.

You toss your love above my head,

to spread throughout the flooring's bed.

Let me sip the herbal tea from your organic sea,

I can feel the branches of your majestic Redwood tree,

so help me find that missing golden key.

Letting us be, 

so we may be free,

to catch that key.

To be or not to be with me?

By Jonathan Billet 

11.10.14        

A Secret Sunrise

                          "A Secret Sunrise"

The sun is a secret surprise that is bound to rise.

Am I an imaginary figure in a fantasy's world?

Then life must not be real, but the dream down a stream.

Who collects these dreams I write?

With loud thunder clouds' claps rolling in, the world will spin.

A new day will begin again.

I will meet an old friend.

I'll receive a message only the heavens from above can send.

On you, I can always depend.

By Jonathan Billet -11/26/2014          

Gallons Of Laughs

"Gallons Of Laughs"

It's so rare, that some water is even bottled, when it's scarce.

Imagine if people had to bid on water like they do on oil.

Fresh oxygen, like bottled water, or gasoline, will be sold by the gallon.

So will ideas in the worldwide markets.

Rare commodities are found in different parts of the world.

Water and food are already commodities on the international markets.

They are all bid upon for some people's survival.

Food for thought, literally.

Gallons of goods make tons of laughs for our small and growing world.

Thoughts, unlike these commodities are sometimes jailed if rare.

Go hire an expensive lawyer.

Elephant dung's coffee is a delicacy in The New World.

A new word is sometimes costlier than old words.

But what are words to barking dogs or singing birds?

Silence, like a laughter's nonsensical speech.

Are the animals laughing quietly at the human race?

We eat some of them.

Is that as primitive as cannibalism?

Some folks think so.

I really wouldn't know.

But don't let your thoughts go.

They tend to stay away.

Always searching for a new day.

Do they pay?

In some world's bizarre way.

By Jonathan Billet

Thanksgiving Day 2014

A Glass Wall

"A Glass Wall"

The knives sing lovely tunes with the forks and spoons.

Eating Neptune's tasty moons.

Worth many doubloons.

A glass well's wall is a ten feet fall.

Mirrored halls are twenty miles in all.

Compared to the universe, that's small.

Lost strings in shoe's rings.

I have flings like a hummingbird wings.

A school bell rings as a singer sings.

High School dropout sneaks around and about.

As the teacher can't help but to let out a shout.

I'm considered the down and out.

Like a shrill flout.  

A word that was never heard.

Except by a cuckoo clock's story time bird.

By Jonathan Billet 11.27.2014        

A Heart Break

                                    "A Heart Break"

The recording says my remote control may need a change of batteries.

My mind's batteries needs a changing if I think about you.

You move my heart all around like furniture moving.

Do you do out of town heart moving in a truck?

You always move my heart to tears.

For all of my many years.

Your voice is tickling my ears.

You play with me like a baby plays with its toys.

I beg you to stay with me.

I know beggars can be losers.

And losers can't be choosers.

You make me understand how that could be.

That doesn't stop the moving men from picking up the furniture like you pick my heart up.

Move it internationally by steamer.

It's the beginning of time and the end of time.

I have run out of places' spaces.

But you're worth a high price in any exclusive bodega.

You are a bargain and well worth the cost.

Without you the world is lost.

Trying to make a duck tail's point.

Which is what?

Answer me please.

You put me in a heavenly smoke's breeze.

I'm on my leg's knees.

You have my heart's keys.

Don't leave my heart in the cold and give me a chilly freeze.

By Jonathan Billet on 11.17.2014         

I Write To Die In A Developing Darkroom's Jail

"I Write To Die In A Developing Darkroom's Jail"

When people let out cries, a little of me dies.

This was written in a darkroom's jail cell.

Who knows?

Where the gold fork and silver spoon goes?

Nobody knows where time flows.

When I dropped out of life's schools.

Never graduated from the schools for fools.

Broke all the regulation's rules.

Dived in pools.

Made from Green Mellow Jello.

Late in early afternoons..

On Jupiter's moons.

Treasured doubloons for a lunatic's tunes!

By Jonathan Billet

11.18.2014        

Re-Existence

"Re-Existence"

He wore puffy pants.

They were made from clouds.

I smoke clouds.

The pants had all different colored clouds painted on them.

I had seen this kind of thing on sweat pants while cruising the blue ocean.

He has black skin.

He's my brother.

Had an idea for a computerized restaurant menu.

Showed it to me.

It lit up.

He's a real artist chump.

Makes me lump in my throat.

He's from New Rochelle.

There are creative people who hang around.

All over my town.

They come to rest and relax.

Just the same reason I took my cruise.

I told you all that Mr. Tush would be the fall of the Isis wall.

Although they didn't think so in my Congressional hall.

Just dial your representative a telephone call.

Signed Gus Hall Alias Captain Moonlight Alias Mr. Tush.

By Jonathan Billet in November's latest Fall.