Poetry: POEMETHEUS' Pastel Pen Presents: The PEGASUS Poems - 'The JACK Of CLUBS & The QUEEN'.

Poem 1

‘INFRASTRUCTURE, OUT FOR A POUND’.

 

Hologram Sam (From Amsterdam)
Surprised His Mrs. By Calling Her ‘Mam’
& Smothering Her With Kisses Not
Knowing Whether She’d Regard It
As Nothing More Than Spam
Or Whether Her IQ Was Too Absorbed
By Haiku Or If Her Food For Thought
Was Organic Or Store Bought
Or Merely Algorithmic Theses
Caught Up In A Panic
With The Rest Of Her Nieces
Whose Lipsticks & Lisps
Made Them More Or Less Hispanic
And Who By A Sheer Flick Of The Wrists
Could Ignore The Creases In Writings Like This
Whose Audacity Preceded Their Poor Mechanics

Like Eagles & Pigeons
One Searches The Grounds For Daily Bread
The Other For Grounds To Divorce Religion
Before It Falls To Pieces.
Which Is Why They Listen To Patsy Cline
Before They Make Decisions
& Why MOST Birds Of A Feather
Forget their Fathers Before
They Sign Their Leases.
They Fuck The Zinc Out Of Their Minds
Feeling For Where The Yeast Is.

Infrastructure
Out For A Pound
‘Cause A Penny Saved
Is Slow Coming Around
Just Like A Latin Jesus
(Unless You Pronounce
It ‘Hey Zeus’) Which Loses
Much Of Its Sting &
MOST Of Its Juice.
And While It Still Carries A Ring,
Cannot Shake Off The Years Of Abuse,
Nor The Parables Fit For A Fingerbang
Whose Ladies Sing The Blues.


Poem 2

'NEW ROSES & NEUROSES'

 

New Roses Are Red
Neuroses For Deadbeats
Violets Are Blueprints
For Violence
& What It Reaps
The Wolf No Longer
Had To Chase Sheep
When He Discovered The
Breath Mint & The Conspiracy
Of Silence Of The
Government When They Discovered
HIM & His Penchant For Defiance
& The Books He Keeps
To Hide His Scent.
His Diet Went Quiet & His Figure
Turned Slim While Beside It
The Texture Of His Arguments
Thinned Where The Quality
Of His Quest & His Teeth Had Been
Before He Fell Asleep
Chasing The Tales Of The Alliance
& The Depths Of His Lament.

And The Settlement He Won To 3
For 5 Fingered Shenanigans
Amounting To Severance Pay
Were Szechuan & A Half Dozen
Of The Other Ducks Turned Into Green
Beyond The Corn Husks
That Kept His Hopes Alive
& His Fur Like Velveteen
To Sally Forth & Dally
& Keep The Other Wolves At Bay
Whose Taxes Raised From Early Graves
What The Moonlight’s Mists Could Not
Rally From The Ranks Of The Unforeseen.
With The Cobblestones Of A Dead Man’s  Alley
Extending The Upgrade Of His Average Means.


Poem 3
THE CINCINNATI BLUES

 

I Was Raised In A Bog That If It Couldn’t Beg
To Have You, Wouldn’t Hesitate To Destroy You.
A Fish Farmer’s Feast, A Mother Of A Beast
A Breast & A Thigh, A Titty Wink, A Milk Sop’s Yeast,
& A Quick Bye-Bye To Say The Least.
If They Couldn’t Make A Girl Of You, They Would Never
Buoy You. Now Get Back To The Bayou Boy If They Couldn’t
Buy You. The Bitter Battered By The Friars’ Boil If Having
Failed To Fry You. Floundering Like Trout The Same As
Salmon’s Founders Whose Fathers Had A Fishy Odor
And Who Like Deodorant For Eels Just Couldn’t Bother
But Only Barely Outswam The Motor.
And Who Stayed In Evolution’s Waves
Rather Than Become An Angry Voter.


Poem 4

‘BLOSSOM OR BLADE’

 

A Full Moon
Nor Could I Wait
For June’s Fair Sisters
To Scribble Upon The
Dim Pale Swoon & Swale
Before Too Late
That I Was A Buffoon
& Not A Tongue Twister
With My Mouth Full Of Ass
& Mozzarella Di Bufala,
Which I Got From
Tommy Mottola
Washed Down By Half A Pint
Of Ale.
Followed By A Cappuccino
& His Cousin Al
Who Knows Well
Francis Ford Coppola
& The Films He Sells.
I Lost A Love In Reno
Nevada, True To Every Poet’s
Tale (From Here To Grenada)
From Farting Lambrusco
Instead Of Starting With Marzemino,
(& Maybe A Potato)
Followed By Sambuco
& THEN
Watching Her Departing
From My Bad Choice Of Vino &
From My Ill Timed Scented Fail.
I Lied & Said I Was ‘Pino Palladino’
My Poetic License Aghast
At Romance. I Gambled
& Gassed My
Last Chance & Nearly Shit
My Pants
In The Middle Of The Casino.
Blossom Or Blade
Some Are Cut From The Rough Cloth’s
Surplus, While Some Are Silk
& Have Their’s Made.
I’d Rather Be Frank, Sammy
Dickens Or Dino.
Than The ‘Dickhead’ I Made Of Myself In Reno.


Poem 5

‘The COST vs. the PRICE’

 

The Cost vs. The Price
Makes For Worthy Residuals
Because It Sounds Nice & Wordy
While The Bombs Are Blasting
Just Watch The Birdie !
I Too Like ‘Birdy Num Nums’
As Do The Buyers & Sellers
When ‘The Party’ Comes
To Take Our Minds Away
From The Castle Dwellers
Who Feed Us Crumbs
To Stave Our Hunger From
ANOTHER Days’s Wages
From Rothschild’s & Rockefeller’s
Who Inherit Whatever Loss
BETWEEN The Price vs. The Cost
As The Bank’s Mute Tellers
Write On Purple Pages.
MILTON Splits His Pants,
BRADLEY Forfeits The Games
The Alphabet Economy Stages
To Scurry Our Worries Like
Picnic Ants Whose Pundits & Sages
Seek Sugar Before The Rains
Wash Away The Grime
That Clings Like Crime
Onto Our Gains
That Only Comes In Silicon Phases.
Even MORPHEUS Feels The Same
Though What Sheep Are Left After
He Counts Himself To Sleep
Are Left To BLAME When The Fence
They Jump Over The Taxman Leaps.
The Cows Go ‘BOO’ Instead Of ‘MOO’
Mother Goose Evicted From Her Shoe,
Her Children Wandering In Vain.
Only PROMETHEUS Needn’t Think Twice
Parsing The Differential Between
The Cost vs. The Price & The Purchase
Of Beans (Or Maybe Phil Collins In Paradise)
Or What A Hashtag Means If It Can’t Be Cooked
As A Substitute For Rice.
Or The Expense Of PANDORA’S Underpants
When Bartering With The VICARS
In The Mountains Of Andorra.
Some May Call Them KNICKERS,
(Careful Now, Her Blacks Are Picky
& Linguistics Can Be Quite Tricky
& Not Always Good Advice)
Though SHE Calls Them WET
When She Bickers
With PEGASUS
While Rolling Her Eyes Like Tumbling Dice.


Poem 6

‘A MONTH OF MOTHS’

 

‘WTF’,
Is Shakespeare Here,
OR Did I Cough Up Too Much Blood
While Spitting My Beer ?
It’s Past Midnight & I SUCK !
Insomnia Weakens  A Writer’s Block
& The Odes To Goldilocks
They Scratch With Pens Before The Words Get Stuck.
Nor Have I Smoked For Months
(Or Astral Weeks) I’m Saving My Blunts
For A Widow’s Peak Whose Wigs Are Being
Eaten By Moths Even As We Speak.
I’m Inhaling The Fear Of Sobriety’s Society
Rather Than Grabbing  My Nuts
& Wetting My Beak.
I ONCE SHOOK MY FISTS IN THE FACE OF ‘BIG BEN’,
Now, I Check My Wrists To See What Shape I’m In
& Whether I’m Still On Lists.
Once The Beau Of The Belles Of The Ball
& Now It’s Come To This.


Poem 7

‘ROUGHAGE FOR ROGUES’

 

Trauma For Drama
One Man’s Dream
Is Another Man’s Trauma.
The RABBIT Looks At
Mein Herr’s Bald Spot
& Wonders How His
Lucky Foot Got There.
Rather Than Make A Fuss
He Returns To The Bus
& Stitches Another PAIR,
Which He Might Also Eat
Were The PEAR The Same
As The Ones On His Feet.
Meanwhile The Madmen
At The Village Gate
Will PARE His Skin
& Not Hesitate
To Pillage
For A King’s Ransom,
A Queen’s Measure
His Precarious Fate
For The Captain’s
Stew ‘Du Jour’.
So That The Jacks
Can Celebrate
While The Barristers
Debate
At A Barista’s Pleasure
Who’s Scalding The Latte
Before Too Late
To Cash In On Their Leisure
& Count Their Coins For Sure.
The Bulls Claim Milk’s
A Stolen Treasure
Sayeth The Cowherds
From Whom The
Grapevines Gravitate
From The Stables
To The Pastures
That Carry Extra Weight.
The Rabbits Endure
For One More Day,
Each Breath It’s Own Cure.
ROUGHAGE FOR ROGUES
Takes Time To Digest
Or It Weakens ‘Esprit De Corps’.


Poem 8

‘WE CAME TOGETHER TO GET HER’

 

We Came Together To Get Her
A Sad Sack Playing FATBACK On His 8 Track,
Sesame Seeds In His Mouth To Aid His Syntax
To Outwit The Showman vs. The Shamen
For Meinen Damen & Herren & Hormonal Priests.
I Took Care Of It & Talked To The Status Quo,
A Bunch Of Motherfuckers Saying “I Don’t Know”,
Mamacitas & Mamalucas  Saying “Here We Go”,
& Other Rag Pickers Trying To Stop The Flow.
Your Chiropractor Sister Could Lose Her License
After She Hit Me In Egypt With A Hook Like Tyson’s
Or Like Queen Latifah Followed By A Backhand
That Felt Beneath Her.

The CYNICAL SOUL MASTERS Presents:
I Pissed Into A Jigsaw PUDDLE,
URINE LUCK, But I’m Mired In Muddle
The Burning Pages Of My Book Of Ashes
Say My Mind Is Muhammed
But My Mouth Is Still Cassius
Feet Of Clay, Though Sweet As Honey
& Thick As Molasses.

THEY FIRED YOUR FATHER FROM THE PHONE COMPANY BECAUSE HE WAS A
HEAVY BREATHER !

The Constant Shuffle
Mixing My Deck While Grabbing My Hustle.
WILL YOU MAKE ROOM IN YOUR WOMB FOR MY CHILD ?
If You Say YES, Then I’ll Stay A While & Find My Light In The Shade
That Cozies Up To Your Smile.
Spitting Out Fire, Coughing Up Blood
My Lungs & Tonsils Caught In Their Own Flood.

THE OLYMPICS OF LIMP DICKS
THE RADIATION OF MY iPads Turns To Tricks,
But Don’t Be So RASH There Are CREAMS For That !
Another Purple Pirate Pissing On My Plans
So That WE DONT GET TOGETHER After The Dance
& Redraw The Maps
By Coincidence Of Destiny Or A Fickle Second Chance.
I Am A Registered CATHOLIC But I Am ALSO Registered At Tiffany’s
So Jingle Those Loose Coins From Out Of Your Pants
& Listen To This Raw Boned Native Swing:

Like A Unified Pope
I Wear Your Halo Around My Neck
Parasites In Paradise
The Lion’s Share vs. Zion’s Share
Temperamentally  Yours
From The Temperamental Temple Set
These Wildings Edited By W. MARMOSET YARN
Who Keeps His Paddle Behind The Barn
& Who Has SO MUCH CHIN HE CAN PLAY TOO VIOLINS
For The Washington Brain-trust, An Anomaly To The Rest Of Us
Who Have No Second Skin.
Conscious Coitus Coochie-Coo For Madame Cucciarelli
& Mr. Smallwood, Earl Wood, Pearl Wood & Most Of All,
‘I Wish A Motherfucker Would’.

While All They Had To Do To Gain More Power
Was Absorb A Wine Stain & Watch Harvey Take A Shower.
WELCOME TO THE JOB !
It Might’ve Been Worse,
It Could’ve Been BOB.

WE CAME TOGETHER TO GET HER
But She Got Caught In The Game,
In A Doubleheader.
And Was Never Quite The Same.


Poem 9

‘THE JACK OF CLUBS’

 

The Jack Of Clubs Cries Out To The QUEEN
These Are The Worst Cards I’ve Ever Seen !
9/11, 11/9, However Dealt
Are Ruined By The Aces Held
That Tarnish Sword & Shield.
A Crew Of Pirates Came In Silver & Black
& Stole The Luck From His Deck,
Their Menacing Ministers Wield
The Sullen Nature Of A Wounded Celt
Whose Crucible Is Blame
& Whose Bloodshed Laid Waste
To Fertile Fields
Within Orion’s Belt.
It Was ALL Just A Game
They Were Trying To Kill Him & Then Claim
What Was Left Of His Holy Name
While Charging The World For The
Price Of His Fame
& All His Fortunes Felt.
They Then Took Him By The Hair,
Acting As If They Had Business There.
They Manipulated Him Behind His Back
Then Sat Back & Laughed,
Running Him Off The Beaten Track
& Right Into The Psychopath
Who Cycles Besides The Thames
& Who Acts Out His Bitter Rivalry
When The Revelry Meets His Whims
With His Ginger Pressed & Folded Wings,
His Evil Forth To Frame.
THE RITUAL IS CALLED ‘The Killing Of The King’
& I Understand These Things.
A Repository For Lost Souls,
A Repertoire Filter For Birds That Sing,
Their Voices All Aflame.
Their Choices Doused By The Meadow’s Murmurs
& The Hostile Waters The Cloudburst Brings
That Lashes His Skin With Welts.
DANCING ON HIS GRAVE
& Spitting Out Seeds Of Discontent & CONFUSION
On The Roads He Paved.
Denying All Collusion
While Shitting On The Love He Saved
& Calling It ‘ILLUSION’,
& Mocking His Misery When He Waves
His Hands To Call For “HELP”
To Balance The Equation.


ADDENDUM & THEN SOME: The PEGASUS Poems Plus!


THE EXTROVERTED INTRO VERSE

 

FORTUNATELY FOR ME, THE LAST WOMAN I GOT NAKED & WHIPPED MY DICK OUT FOR, WAS MY DOCTOR.
& Even Better That My Wife Was Present & My Exams Proceeded By The Letter.
My Physician A Brazilian,
Though More Italian Now Than When I Met Her.
And So It Has Come To This, My 3Somes Only Medically Insured In The Wake Of Wedded Bliss,
While The Winged Foot Serpents Of Hermes' Staff Helps My Soul Get Better,
Though No Wetter Than An Irish Setter Left In The Rains Of Yesterday's Trysts
& Who's Pearls Are Jammed Into His Past When He Partied Like Eddie Vedder.

I add these 3 pieces to the Pegasus Poems courtesy of our friend 'Poemetheus'.
We are calling it, 'ADDENDUM & THEN SOME: The Pegasus Poems Plus.'

Please pardon my disturbing your precious time & ENJOY !
Meanwhile I promised Pandora some more Romantic Poems in the future horizon come.


1. ADDENDUM & THEN SOME: THE ROAD TO ROME OR RUIN

 

On The Road To Rome Or Ruin
Chanting OM Before I Leave Home
For Any Trouble Bruin More Than
I Can Bear
And Then I Pour Some Hyssop
To Protect Me From The Bishop
& Wash The Cardinal’s Bird Shit
Out Of My Hair
Because There Is No Electric Homage
To Manage, the PRICE OF LEAVING
DAMAGE IS MORE DAMAGE
With A Wet Nose Sniffing A Corsage
& Blowing The Nose Of Subterfuge.

I Pass Gas So I Can Pass This Class
Any Objections Talk To My Associates
Who Lengthen My Words To Protect
My Ass, Whose Courage Gives Wind
It’s Second Sight & The Saxons
Milk Teeth Marvels A Sound Bite
& A Message To Massage.

My Paranoia’s HUGE
So I PUSH My Car From
My Garage
Before The Engine Stalls
A Base On Balls Without Haste
The Emperor’s Umpire Calls.

2 Koltons Can’t Make A Wong
2 Wrongs Don’t Make A Wright
& Neither Can The Marble Carve
A Hero That Can Last All Night
Nor A Model Starve Her Everlasting
Appetite.

Addendum & Then Some
Not To Mention
I Pay Close Attention
& These Bitches Are ALWAYS
TRYING TO STEAL OUR PENSIONS
As No Legends Remain Scarlet
Who’s Knights Dim The Light
& Nothing Stays Stable Without
A Good Fight
Whose Roots Have Grown
& Whose Limbs Are Able
To Avoid Them If They Might.

The ONLY TERMS I KNOW ARE MY OWN
& The Worm Turns Not Until The Seeds
Are Sown. Nor A Skeleton’s Fingers Cross
Until The Rose Has Cut & Narrowed The
Marrow’s Distance From The Bone.
I Sing My Songs Alone
& Ferry My Fables Across The Cloudburst
My Keychain On My Kite.
Skipping Past The Labels
My Arrows Whisking Past The Stones
Deep Into The Night.

I’m ON THE ROAD TO ROME OR RUIN
Rum, Guitars & Guns Will Let Me Know
How I’m Doing.


2. ADDENDUM & THEN SOME:
‘I BOUGHT A GRAVY BOAT SO THAT I COULD JOIN THE NAVY’

 

I Bought A Gravy Boat
So That I Could Join The Navy
& A Battle Axe
So That I Could Shave Me
Quite Close & To The Skin
& A Meat Grinder To Reconcile
The Train Of Thought
I’m Smoking In.
THIS Is The PRICE OF THE TICKET.
Who’s Not On Board My Plane
With Chicken & Rice
Can Suck It
& For This I Thank The Lord.
I’d Rather Kick Against The Pricks
Than My Sword Against The Bucket
Or My Dick Against My Word.
The Organ’s Pipes Are Broken,
‘MA LA MIA BOCCA SUSSURRA
PIANO’ As Softly As A Bird.

 


3. ADDENDUM & THEN SOME:
'THE BRIMSTONE BULLIES BALL'

 

The BRIMSTONE BULLIES
Backlash Beckons
To Cancel Out The Magic
& Slap Up The Beacons
While The Deacons Fists
 Weigh Their Wrists
To Measure What They Reckon
The Miniature Moments Moisture
Fecund While The Sweating Magnets
Of A Misty Moonlight Fades In Milliseconds
To Usher Something Tragic.

I Do Not Write In Free Verse
Lest I Rehearse My Lines To Fall
Molested Between The Cracks
By Linguistic Gadgets
(& For That PUN, I Might’ve Won
More Milk For My Apple Jacks
& More Numbers For My Digits),
My Narratives Exploited
By PRIMAL Ministers,
My Storyline Subject To The Words
Of Hacks, Who’s Verbs Get Twisted
In Both The Wind & My Mouth
As The Smoke Of Burning Stacks
Scurry & Scatter Throughout The South
While Covering Their Covert Masonic Tracks
With Migrant Mental Midgets.

AND THE FIRE IN PEGASUS’ EYES As He Flies
Rides Besides Me Still When Bad INTENTION
Pounces On My Blood To Flow Against It’s Will.
For This Is The Way A Brimstone Bully Bounces,
Bartering My England By The Pound
By Squeezing Out The Ounces
& By Cutting The Voice That Announces
That MORE Might Be Coming Around
When The Pirates Paint Their Pastel Pigeons
Which A Few Stolen Doves Counts As.

Lip Service Paid To Sign Language’s
Empathy Swollen Sound.
Lower Voices, Fewer Choices
For The Mute Who’s Tongues Are Tied,
Who’s Legs Are Bound To Blur
Into Oasis, Their Imaginations Muffled
By The Barren Sludge That Stops Up
A Borough’s Empty Places
With The Carnival’s Cruel Religions
Scratching The Hair Of A Hound’s Ass.

THERE IS NO GRANDER IRONY THAN THIS:

The Assassin ‘Borrows’ The Coin Purse
To Help Him Pay The BILL From The SAME
Man Who Provides The Exact CHANGE
WHO’S THE SAME MAN HE PLANS TO KILL,

While Promising To Pay It Back,
(But Reimburse With Swamp Gas) !

What Chance Of Survival
When The Bulls Balls Are In
The Sights AND Hands
Of A Jealous Rival ?
Stuffing Cash In A Gunny Sack
& Praying For The Privilege,
& THAT THE SUM GETS TOTALED
BEFORE THE LUMP DOES.


COPYRIGHT SANANDA FRANCESCO MAITREYA
MILANO  Nov 9th + Nov 13th, 2017
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
INTELLECTUAL COPYRIGHT PROTECTED

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