Trouble Butt

Seems once upon a time, before my world of rhyme

There was a time when the butt was so innocent

It may have even carried a baby powder scent

Then came vaccinations and shots

And where did they aim? I should have forgot

As I watched the honey bees dance for their honey

Kept thinking how rear-end was not always funny

It was simply a round, protruding muscle

Helping to push along when we must hustle

The end result was just a lot of poop

That multiplied quickly while stuck in the coop

The Ins & Outs provided a better position

So quickly did we lose those vows of tradition

Butt being female, it still moves side to side

How else could we just relax & enjoy the ride?

If I tell them to butt out and go smoke a joint

I’d die of lung cancer/can sir

And what was my point?

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Double Pickin’ & Fiddlin’ with my Angel

abstract angelic art blast

Photo by Sebastian Voortman on

Raphael and I had a blast today
Pickin’ out tunes to flow
With the present and past
And laughing through the fiddlin’
Chewing gum to make it last

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person holding black tote bag

Photo by Artem Beliaikin on

There was a lad named Jimmy
Who once lived up the hill
He didn’t want to play nice
Seemed all he did was kill
Hitting or punching e as I walked
And always calling me names
My best defense was to keep it in
Since his whole schema was lame
His last name was like Freddy’s
Now I’m not in his movie
Friday the 13th passed
And all he can do is catch bass
This could mean a fish
Or that could mean some music
And as I go I dance the flow
Thinking him as eunuch…I mean unique

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Numbers with Franklin

bitcoins and u s dollar bills

Photo by David McBee on

T’was quite a time to make some rhyme
Very necessary to pass the time
And sing my flushed emotion RED
To get the cobwebs out of my head
Now the numerology passes my day
To compliment me along my merry way
My hats off to that guy who had the hustle
I believe his last name was Russell
During this weird time of solitude
And trying so delicately not to be rude
The listening Exotica time I mix
With courage to manifest these licks

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As if it wasn’t hard enough to begin again

There isn’t any point in asking, ‘Where you been?’

We all just come and go as we please

Especially when we’re not down on our knees

We slept in other people’s beds

We raised life out of the dead

And now there’s no run around

It’s just back & forth – BOUND

Rockin’ my own cradle

Without a gravy ladle

Just grooving to the sound

Of voices all around

This world complains! It’s out of control!

Is it a bird? A plane? No, it’s REMOTE!

Remote & Re-Moot, my own horn I toot!

See? Now I’m a teacher (Became quite astute)

As the sun beams out it’s rays

My eyes are a blaze!

Didn’t get my glasses yet

It’s too bad I can’t get wet

The rain bows & blesses

Got plenty of dresses, but I stay out of messes

Since I truly love Robert (Palmer) & Jim (CARREY)

It’s not all grim when I’m a mim


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Lean On Me

low angle photography of bare trees

Photo by Adam Bayer on

As Bill Withers
I put the FUN in Funeral
This is my tribute
(Jimmy Buffet started it!)

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Could I be the one

To fill your space

With noise & color?

For you did not enjoy

Routine & habits

Making life duller

And so the entertainer

Begs the audience

To open up to him/her

Because the ingredients

Mixed together, stir

Hopefully, the vision

Is as clear as the dream

And the arduous churning butter

Can now result in cream

Did I get it backwards?

Or simply bridge across?

Throughout all my wandering

I cannot say I’m lost

Even if all these spells

Are re-can’ts at best

Confounded or dumb-founded

I rhyme just like the rest

Perhaps there isn’t a reason for it

But there’s certainly a rhyme

For all things said or done by me

There was a lot of time

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Luana Gardens

Why does a train have to keep track?

Why is not a pin instead of heart attack?

Why doesn’t the wine act like jello?

Why isn’t everyone calm & mellow?

The questions surely abound

Even so, don’t make a sound

Just smile & play along

No need to point fingers of ‘who’s wrong’

Before you know it, you’ll be there

It might not be righteous, it might not be fair

But if you caused no ruckus

You’ll never, ever fuck us

And that may be a blessing

For whatever you were messing


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Play Doe

COMPUTER - Auntie Bonnie & Amanda (Drag Queens)

Hello! Bognetta here! And I wanna rock your world!
You see, they say that the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world
But I haven’t a cradle – the kids are grown up!
Besides, they also say, ‘Don’t rock the boat’ and I don’t have to
Since the Crocodile does a pretty good job.
I know it’s only rock n’ roll, but I like it too
When love is on the rocks or I’ve hit rock bottom,
I have to beware of the Scorpion that rests under the rock
I’m a wee bit confused since a rolling stone gathers no moss
Yet, a rock that rolls cannot build a home.
So, I guess I shouldn’t waste too many stones on one bird
In these Rock of Ages, it feels we’re all doing the Jailhouse rock
For instance, I wanna rock & roll all night
But sometimes we’ve gotta build with the stones we have
Caught between a rock and a hard place,
I should prefer to let pop rocks sizzle on my tongue
As hard of a rock or as solid as a rock may be,
It is drops of water that make a hole in a rock
When all the water is gone, only the largest stones will still remain in the riverbed
It doesn’t much matter if its one, two, three o’clock or four o’clock rock
There’s only one way to rock and Rock n’Roll ain’t noise pollution
It’s so weird how they say when a king reigns it is thanks to the people
And when when a river sings, it is thanks to the stones
Yet, riverstones remain while water flows away
Even one who may be as dumb as a box of rocks knows
That when they see a rock coming, it hurts less
It’s true one pebble doesn’t make a floor and gifts break rocks
And sometimes I feel as a tree loaded with fruits of which people can’t help but throw stones at
But given these happenings, I’m with Plato in the search for that small, bright pebble
To be contented with now & then

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If I’m Not…

If I’m not coloring, I’m painting

If I’m not alert, I’m fainting

If I’m not bicycling, I’m recycling

If I’m not canning, I’m fanning

If I’m not cool, I’m chilling

If I’m not warm, I’m hot

(The point of this poem? I forgot)

If I’m not swimming, I’m winning

When I’m on a bus, I ponder the fuss

If I’m not eating, life’s fleeting

If I can’t play, I watch

(But sometimes can’t handle a Swatch)

If I don’t switch, I’m a witch

(I don’t know that awful term, ‘bitch’)

If I’m not calm, I sing song

Just telling you I somehow belong ☺️

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