Out on the trustworthy Pegasus
Sat myself with a rod in a chair
As I silently surveyed the Pacific
And ruffled the brine in my hair.

My line was avoided all morning
And a nibble was naught all the noon
So I wait with the greatest of patience
‘Pon my very first glimpse of the moon.

I think of fish lurking below me
And sumptuous dishes prepared
Once I gut and skin and debone them,
Their bountiful fruits gushing bare.

Like Halibut steaks
Scorpionfish cakes
And Sea Bream sashimi en masse
Add Snapper flambéd
And Sole freshly flayed
Or Barracuda pickled with Wrasse
Perhaps Moray Eel fried
And Yellowtail hide
Will bring spice to the rawest of Grouper
Blackened Swordfish
Or a Salmon roe dish
Flying Fish would be super-duper!

The night was beginning to fall
As I cast my line one final time
When it was yanked with a fearsome pull
And my whole boat turned on a dime.

I cranked in as hard as I could
With the line as taut as cold steel
When a shining fish flew through the air
And broke free the spool of my reel.

A Mackerel Shark stared blankly at me
And my heart sank to the bottomless blue
For you can’t eat them in California
So I tossed my hard work over in lieu.

My frustration knows not high walls
With this stolen catch of the day,
For asses have the weakest of hearts
And drown everymen with their bray.

squirrelly-squirrelly
SQUIRRELLY-SQUIRREL!
Look as rodents go a-rocketeering
Up and down that scrawny boy
bushy tails twitching tails
antennae tails – a regular nut-dar
searching for scrumptious signals
chitter-chitter-chittertitter
cute little mouse with its featherduster tail
sweeping it soft to tickle his nose
in adorable…Wait.

That’s bloody disgusting.

To have a nasty rodent
Scamper on your chest
ruffle up your hair
with paws that played
in its own shit
prob’ly carrying rabies
or some disease –
Going ‘cross that boy’s face
Afore he bounds off to pound some girl squirrel –

Let’s be serious:
Something’s squirrelly screwed with anyone who squirrels with squirrels.

Observe this spread of Earth’s sweetest joys,
Oh! Won’t you partake?
A plethora of fleeting streets, feats, and toys,
Witness not a single fake!

The world is wide, time perniciously short,
Usually squandered often.
This fine night, prove my worthy cohort
And time I soothe and soften!

Drink dry draughts of fine cheap beer, their
Sensual heat, so sweet!
Or sneak a snort of costly coke, my dear,
And from the dumps be beat.

Seize from the tree of Earth and see
Things Earth cannot hold!
Simply hold fast to your drugged repast;
You’ll feel as good as gold.

I wager, if lay you down besides a beaut, it
Should be a boon.
In no time flat you’d clutch the fat of her
Bare, fresh moon.

If it’s moons you desire, so shall I shower
Down wealth above;
For monetary value possesses practical power in
Luring lewd love.

Permit me whisk you away to a faraway realm
To exist in fantasy –
Leagues away from the bland, dreary helm
Of Captain Reality.

I promise your pleasure ne’er be begot,
A journey filled with ease –
You can be sure of that, friend, or my name is not
Mephistopheles!

Silent serenity – A peaceful reverie –
Dining in a lodge on the snowy mountainside
Where the window cools the mind and the whiskey warms the head,
Preparing it to dance
To flounce about with flurries –
For the snow flutters round
This peaceful skier’s lodge –
A furnace burns within, while smoke rises without,
Black furls among folds of scarlet and purple,
A horizon darkening,
Though still bright with angels’ dandruff
That weighs down haughty conifers with a deadly icing
That will be cheerier
Witnessed tomorrow on the slopes
Where I rediscover the energy of my youth.
But now the ice in my whiskey is the only cold I know,
And the faces of the tourists as they prepare to fight my mountain –
You see, I make the deadly cliff my friend
when my thoughts are trained on it.
I have an aim, a game, a goal.
But in this lodge I am left
To thoughts of life alone –
The glass threatens to drown me,
The meal threatens to choke me,
And all the while I watch the flames
That comfort but threaten to scorch me.
I’d much rather face death
Than face my own self –

So, I sit here, and order a beer,
To wait for the yolk of the sun
To break free from the shell of the snow,
When I can leave this cocoon filled with dangers unseen
And take on the risks clear below.

No pictures here in Westminster –
I see you there, rascally sir!
There will be no photos taken here
I swear it on my grave.

Oh no, you shan’t, not at St. Paul’s!
We’ve nothing hidden, just the rules –
I don’t care your memory’s short,
We’ll expect you here again.

Turn off the flash? I cannot believe
The way you expect no reprieve
Since I know you’ll use it when I am relieved –
Look! See the decay in the stone
Caused by the flash of your phone.

St. Peter’s Basilica, did you say?
I don’t give a hoot about Italy
Or what in the Louvre your camera sees –
Britain does it best. Oh yes!
You’ll forget what you saw, and come back again –
Can’t we be sure of that?
Oh, yes!
We can be sure of that.

I fancy a bit of a hunting
For the creatures of the field;
I shoot them high
I shoot them nigh
For the bounties they will yield.

But every shot played is all a-fowl
A Pheasant upon my plate;
I am in need
Of a different breed
To appease my starving state.

The Birds are all one of a feather
In a tree that strains their squawks;
It is unfair
To lose all my hare
Because I can find naught but their flocks.

I fancied a bit of a hunting
For the creatures of the field;
But not in this place
Will I find latent grace,
Only mad bony Cuckoos revealed.