It's so cruel
all we learn in
school
is mocking behavior
reciting some rule
not that life's here to
savor
for each free playful
fool
)
)
Enter dear Fool upon the Precipice, prattling
ditties of daily airwaves.
She is whirling blithely, eyes upon a distant
rainbow, breathing in clouds.
Breathing out daisies and daffodils and a
brilliance of pansies.
She is dancing to her own symphony, entranced in
her deepest essence.
Without thought, without prayer, without a
government authorized identity,
there are no guarantees, no happy ending.
)
)
Brief infusion
of giddy illusion
glows
just enough to guilefully
entice.
Sparkling Neural net
smiles,
a secret
clue revealing
purpose, meaning;
engages
wild eternal child,
ages' flamboyant fool,
Glorious
Muse
)
)
Here’s to the weary.
Here’s to the fun.
Here’s to the berry that makes us all
young.
Here’s to the rulers.
Here’s to the fools.
Here’s to the toilers and tellers of
truths.
Here’s to the end of another
decline.
Here’s to the best of our
time.
)
)
April’s Fool
A Fool I've been,
jogging behind visions,
cringing from derision,
seeking solace from a merry
Moon
too soon gone old.
Peeping back on follies,
sticking pins in pain -- jolly?
no, morose, cold ...
Harridan crone.
Have my wanderings sown
no happy harvest, no cozy
home?
Snuggling into punishing
remorse
"You knew you should have run a better
course!"
"You know you deserve to be
alone."
Is that true? Am I the Fool
careening
down the precipice,
broken, no meaning;
is this my hapless fate?
Daze of failure insists I
mistake
castigation for a goal?
A Fool can be a cherished, merry
soul,
lightly traipsing heroic mountain
trails,
reveling in freezing rain and
snow,
tasting bite of ice and flame without
bitterness.
This I know.
)
)
Somnolent glide, sinuous,
silvery stair.
Burnt eyes still, closed to the
world.
What glimpse might I
witness
if only I dare?
Is there purpose to wandering
Earth?
Should I care?
But what if I'm missing the
thrill?
What would carry me
there?
*
Over the boundaries; into the
wild.
Not a safe task to commit to a
child.
A quest full of
questions.
A fool's 'oliday.
And, have I
mentioned,
no promise of pay.
Just a born again
supplicant
reshaping the code,
creating the tale I'll
tell
when I'm old.
)
)
Mood’s choral turns to
Spring.
That special lethargy that poets
faux affect,
reflective as a silver
pool.
We like the love that lets us play
the fool,
exudes good humor, respite
from
sober shame of longing
heart.
That flame, that spark that
arts
wish power to capture,
that rapture.
)
)
Let the goodtimes roll
down fresh verdant
hillside,
winter's sorrows
spilling out like seed.
Cleansed free.
Elegant foolery open to bountiful
showers.
Flagrant flowers, emergent
liberation.
Layered legend long ripens,
tangled,
mired below in
torpid traipse through dust and
gloom.
Swept into light as
destiny,
revealed by labor of
cultivation,
excavated, bestowed honoured
place
in ritual chorus.
Celebrate
‘round hallow table, exultant
vibration.
Energies blend, fuse.
Recombinant winds call timeless
tunes.
Rhythmic movements re- and un-
engage,
ever changing,
never wholly new.
)
)
Wrested from Mama's
warmth, from
the cave, to play
brave.
And it's ladies' choice
as you squirm
in fool's
corner.
Such a chore -- kissing
at this
and that for a chance to
score
the shame, the blame
from stuck-out
tongues, the bloody
laughter.
)
)
Penny
Fools
Pound
Fools
run ruinous
errands,
rush past threshold of
Hell
in cheap
reticules.
)
)
Cast into a class that laughs at
rules,
what holds grimy chaos at
bay?
(Fools at least are pure, are gay
and
without malice.)
)
)
Smoke simmering black deliciously divides
while cackling
into echoes far seeking.
But there's that puppy-dog barking need
for love, for
status, for a wise old fool to follow
into certain death
and beyond.
Who believes these
mutterings?
Who would want to?
)
)
I tell Your
secrets
in riddles,
rhythms
If those fools would
but
smile and
dance
the sands would fly into
music
Play on
)
)
People I became over
ages.
Foolish sages.
Slave to wages.
Humble servant to
whomever
gave a glance.
Always ready for a game with
chance,
burning bridges to
swim in fate's brave
waves.
)
)
What fool would risk stability,
shame, neighbor’s hostility,
to resist? Stripped of private
self-determination,
could such fools exist?
)
)
What can I say?
*
There’s valid point in
all this farce?
That the fool on the
precipice
dances beautifully?
No matter
what the cost
there's a prize worth the
price
of steadfast duty?
There is bountiful
advice
in the stars?
There's a lucky star;
and it's ours?
There is magick,
to believe in?
Requited hope, ecstatic
grace?
There is more than we
imagine?
There is gold in inner
space?
There is danger; there are
dragons?
There are knights and righteous
cause?
There are chaos taming tactics
--
There are underlying
laws
that we obey?
)
)
