If you're going to point the finger

Covered with the black tar hate

At countries far beyond our third world...

Our disassembled fifty states...

Just remember we eat poison,

And our water reeks of sludge...

We're reflected in our mirror maze

Forty times but still don't budge

'less we're talking in a windstorm

Is the only time we'll hear...

Wear another person's shoes...

Try them out and feel the sole

As it scrapes against the concrete...

There are blessings we won't know...

Stop and stare into reflections

Of that immigrant you fear...

Be him Mexican, Brazilian, or of

Palestinian ilk...

These are people who can only

Save us from our own demise...

If we show them all our asses

We are aping a disguise

Of a species that cannot progress...

Canker sores denying salve...

Better wall your eyes and mouth off...

Better fence off your sweet grave...

Jump inside a cement mixer

'til there's nothing left to save...

Wear another person's shoes...

Try them out and feel the sole

As it scrapes against the concrete...

There are blessings we don't know...

Tumorous heads grow on your shoulder...

Is that just another shade

Of some self that slipped your field count?...

When you look down at your plate

Do you see meat and

Potatoes?...

Is there something else you crave?...

Maybe news from something different?...

Could their

Feelings be betrayed?...

You could pop fresh heads like bubbles,

Or big bulbous welts on skin,

Homosexual accusations

That your Psyche aims to win...

Flip the apple cart and blame the ones

That open wide their veins...

...You'll be living in some corner

With the remnants of lost claims...

11/10/24

Bunny Villaire

Edit #4

Let's be Frank...

I was sinking in the tank again,

And it left a venomous perfume...

The stink destroyed, and nearly liquefied my view...

I walked around like a cock-eyed sailor

Who was on extended leave...

The birds pecked at me

To get at any delicious meat that was vulnerable,

And open to the air

'til my clothes were torn and tattered,

And I could not be retrieved

From the gutter of unconscious thought...

The whole wretched thing was beyond belief

As I lay rotting

Upon the drain of some side road,

Along the jagged, nauseating edge...

Where the wind and the cold had left me...

At times like these the dogs must be

Completely certain

Before they feast upon your face...

While one was sniffing at my neck,

Another entertained my seasoned crotch,

As I attempted now to wiggle my big toe

To let them know I still had an inch of fight...

The Motherfucker would not budge!...

Well here I am in a big jam...

The Labrador that's violating the private zone

Below my belly is visually becoming aroused

With my inactivity,

And buries his teeth in me...

Shaking me around like a rag doll,

While a few horrified

Hobos pause in horror

On their way down the walk,

Pushing their belongings along with them...

At long last I am brutally released,

And tossed upon the concrete in a messy pile...

What the fuck's the point to anyone

When we've become invisible to eyes that only see

What the pacified passerby desire to see,

And dimly hear, and deem important to their psyche?...

The invisible cadaver...

The thing that barely has a name...

The broken face who's let himself go...

The girl who sits out in the rain...

You're eyes will never see us...

Though we are made of the same stuff...

The flies are feasting on my skin now...

The cops won't notice on their beat...

They only cruise the richer sides of town...

Their jobs are deceptively simple...

They keep the streets clean surrounding big business,

And swank...

The bars and restaurants, clothing stores...

Where status brings them in the doors...

That's where you'll find

The boys in blue...

And when the dying people do

They're sure to write us in their books...

Let's be Frank...

I was sinking in the tank again,

And it left a venomous perfume...

The stink destroyed, and nearly liquefied my view...

10/22/24

Bunny Villaire

When you're a parent it's not

Always apparent...

You flash past the mirror like

A meteorite...

It's not 'til you've paused that

You see pressures creasing...

You've drag raced with grease

On wet wheels overnight!...

Please take care of yourselves,

All you parents of children!...

It's easy to wear out

The seat of your pants!...

No one will warn you...

So few give a damn!...

For the parents of children...

It's like life on the lam...

It's always assumed...

"Oh, they've got this...

They're fine...

They choose their descent

Into this secret world...

Let's give them some space...

All those clouds overhead

Are patching together...

Better go off to bed...

...That balloon just got stuck

In that tree branch above!...

Let's cross the wide road

To make way for their pram..."

With the hearts and eyes

Closed, the Self Servers

Survive...

They see...

They acknowledge...

They pass quickly by...

On nimble thin legs...

All these crabs,

And these snails

These self assured workers

Who hang a wide sail

On their Boat of Grand Dreams,

And hopes stacked high

To heaven...

Sailing on with full steam

They make tracks

For New Worlds!...

Well, I'll tell you when you

See all the joys and wet tears

Of parenthood there

Like a mirror to your face

You might change your tone...

I definitely felt

A shift so internal

That my ways of emoting

Were stopped dead in their tracks...

Yes, you must now look back!...

When you're a parent it's not

Always apparent...

You flash past the mirror like

A meteorite...

It's not 'til you pause that

You see pressures creasing...

You've drag raced with grease

On wet wheels overnight!...

Take care of yourselves,

All you parents of children!...

It's easy to wear out

The seat of your pants!...

No one will warn you...

So few give a damn!...

For the parents of children...

It's like life on the lam!...

...Tho you'll see flashing lights!...

And see unprovoked bliss!...

There are blessings on blessings

That the other souls miss!...

Yes the sky's full of stars now,

The deep well sings your name!...

The doors of the soul

Open wide without shame...

There are great golden sights

That you cannot foresee

If you can put aside all of your

Unprovoked greed...

Oh, the road of a parent

Seems covered in cracks...

Many times there are pitfalls,

And no air left to breathe...

One needs to take stock...

It is all in your hands...

But I bless every parent

For taking a stand...

We need star filled eyes!...

And we need hearts of love!...

And we need doting arms

Wrapping small ones like doves...

We need sugar kisses!...

We live for magic nights

Where the moon fills the room,

Setting young souls alight!...

10/21/24

Bunny Villaire

Edit #2

There's a large paper mâché head

On a wide concrete platform...

In the middle of the park at night...

I'm a nervous wreck!...I'm an awful fright!...

As I'm not sure what he will say next...

I'm filled with fear...And I'm filled with dread...

There's a large paper mâché head

On a wide concrete platform...

He's drawling off his block again!...

He says his brother thinks he's nuts...

And he wonders if his wife and small group of friends

Have conspired against him ...

Like a long lost mutt

The worm inside his head's returned...

It burrows in his hollowed cheeks...

Someone left the stove...and a pan got burned...

That stink inside his head

Will reside for weeks...

There's a large paper mâché head

On a wide concrete platform...

In the middle of the park at night...

I'm a nervous wreck!...I'm an awful fright!...

As I'm not sure what he will say next...

I'm filled with fear...And I'm filled with dread...

There's a large paper mâché head

On a wide concrete platform...

When asleep they came, and played their games...

The raccoon, and the mouse...

Every sacred inch of him has been befouled!...

Like a sinner in the house of God...

...There's a singer on the veranda now...

She has lured him back from gloom...

Such a beauty with a voice so light...

Her bright lantern fills each room

With a brilliance that he's long forgot...

...He was painted in a tenacious spot!...

There's a large paper mâché head

On a wide concrete platform...

In the middle of the park at night...

I'm a nervous wreck!...I'm an awful fright!...

As I'm not sure what he will say next...

I'm filled with fear...And I'm filled with dread...

There's a large paper mâché head

On a wide concrete platform...

10/19/24

Bunny Villaire

Come pull me out of the sun...

Come put me under your employ...

You can play fast with the gun...

I'll clean the marks off of every glass...

If you need a place at the time of death

I will be your alibi...

Idle hands of clay can relieve what ails...

I'm the devil weed...growing on the rail...

If you go too far, I won't bat a lash...

...I'm the subterfuge that is made to last...

Come paint my Achilles' heel...

Come put me under your employ...

Take first dibs on the steering wheel...

I'd never spill when we're up flying...

If you need a place at the time of death

I will be your alibi...

Idle hands of clay can relieve what ails...

I'm your devil weed...growing on the rail...

If you go too far, I won't bat a lash...

...I'm the subterfuge that is made to last...

Flying high as a sky blue kite...

Come put me under your employ...

You can spike a vein...I would never bite...

Silent as the San Andreas fault line...

If you need a place at the time of death

I will be your alibi...

Idle hands of clay can relieve what ails...

I'm the devil weed...growing on the rail...

If you go too far, I won't bat a lash...

...I'm the subterfuge that is made to last...

10/18/24

Bunny Villaire

Edit #3

Can you savor the ice cream base...

That gratifying pill...

That was shot from the depths of some catacomb

To arrive upon your windowsill?...

It's not everyday you'll taste it's delights...

One must pay their tithing and alms...

Do the Humanoid Shuffle,

And the Automaton Jig!...

In an incongruous tangle

Be the straight as arrow sprig

That arises without tell tale

Of the world's endemic flaws...

Your love extends like an olive branch

Without purpose...without cause...

Like the Count of Monte Cristo

One gets tarnished by the quest

In attempts to settle debts,

And even stabilize old books...

Don't let the deception drive you...

While the rest bank on their looks

Make a bee-line for the counters,

And the mass production trays...

Don a safety mask, and goggles!...

You'll be occupied all day!...

Beat yourself like a raw square peg,

As nervous red runs at top speeds

Down the walls of your gratuity

Into the gutters of the Beast...

Where the sounds of gnashing teeth, and the

Suckling from heaved bones

Become a backdrop aura that is aped,

And normalized to fit your home!...

Do the Humanoid Shuffle,

And the Automaton Jig!...

In an incongruous tangle

Be the straight as arrow sprig

That arises without tell tale

Of the world's endemic flaws...

Your love extends like an olive branch

Without purpose...without cause...

10/16/24

Bunny Villaire

Edit #2

Whether if my mirror is broken

I'll be on my way today...

I've got roads that I have chosen...

Got the choices I have made...

One can't let a ploy like distance

Throw no gum into their gears...

You're my moon through crooked branches...

You're the silent lake so clear...

I think you know that this will not end

With no negligent goodbye...

For forever we float o'r trees

Tickling clouds undersides...

Whether if my mirror is broken

I'll be on my way today...

I've got roads that I have chosen...

Got the choices I have made...

Either buried in a pine box,

Or court ordered doctor's care...

I will sever all resistance

'til free spirits breathe this air...

You can hedge your bets on bondage...

Or gain footing on this beam...

I've been tunneling through plaster...

Since they grabbed me at the scene...

Whether if my mirror is broken

I'll be on my way today...

I've got roads that I have chosen...

Got the choices I have made...

10/12/24

Bunny Villaire

Edit #2

Here I am...

I make claims for a. Seventh

Wonder...

It may be a fools gold...

But I need to forge an attempt...

Take a pick axe to barren soils...

I wish to see

Your hidden self revealed...

Pull phantoms out of rivers...

O, how I toil...

Stir echoes in the ashes

Of the fully burned out brain...

Synapses cave in,

And all becomes a win win...

Can we shape one word together?...

Has the freezer in production

Caused a closure to

Free will?....

Aiming to kiss the concrete's mouth....

We fly...

Miss, and feel this

Pulpy flesh mass of life...

Drag me over fire and shame...

Lift me up from certain death...

There are angels at each turnpike...

Rare to see them, hard to fathom...

Like the miracles at random

We as humans tend to miss...

We can know them...

Time is waiting...

To be deemed more

Necessary...

Share the ice block

'til it's melting...

Share the tropic heat your

Hoarding

For a rainy day predicted

Like a possum in the dark...

Share the comets, and the stars

If you notice colors blending...

Share opinions that your vetting...

Every hunger you're forgetting

Cries out from the cracks

And breaks...

Broken up we have so little....

Share and feel the cosmic tingle

When the walls call out I listen...

Pray to hear a welcome call...

10/3/24

Bunny Villaire

Edit #4

We're all here dancing

Down this hall of smoke…

A scant few carry a full flush…

The rest of us are broke…

Some of us are dressed in flesh…

While others are long dead…

Every voice is here right now…

Don't matter what you read…

We're all here dancing

Down this hall of smoke…

At the Hakata Dontaku,

Or the Chelsea in New York…

Burning life's wax at both ends

Sacked out at Bronson Park…

On a nonstop bender now

We ache to play our parts...

We're all here dancing

Down this hall of smoke...

A sir with eyes as black as coal

Is reaching in his cloak...

A girl drops off as glasses clink...

A knife gleams in the dark...

The words we say,

The things we do

Are causing tiny sparks...

We're all here dancing

Down this hall of smoke…

A scant few carry a full flush…

The rest of us are broke…

Some of us are dressed in flesh…

While others are long dead…

Every voice is here right now…

Don't matter what you read…

9/27/24

Bunny Villaire

Edit #2

It was Tuesday, and it was back to work again...

The light was pouring through the windows,

And ornamenting his shower head,

Dancing on the washroom sink

In such a clever way

That one had to acknowledge it's beauty...

Bill had not fully identified the source

Of his biting discomfort,

But every workday there was a soreness, and a

Hypersensitivity to the soreness that hovered

Over his head

Like a cartoon dialogue bubble...

He had a good job, that was not the trouble...

He felt cared for and nurtured by his environment,

And colleagues, which made his problem ever so much

Mote puzzling, the way his mornings, and anticipation

For going in nagged at him like a mosquito

Buzzing in and out of sight,

Or a scratch he couldn't itch that was somewhere

Off the map...

Several plateaus to the left past an oasis,

And a dry patch...

He could see it on his face, like a stain

Staring back at him in the washroom mirror...

The strange insecurity of the lips, as they settled

Unevenly on the facial landscape like a wrinkled mask...

Was it simply the feeling that he was giving up

The keys to himself,

Like a borrowed car to a friend?...

Ah, but his flesh was so much more then a

Material possession...

Or it held so much more infinite weight...

When he cut himself,

His mother would dress the wound when he was

A child, and then as he grew

He learned to dress the wound himself...

He learned what foods tantalized him...

He learned how to touch himself in order to rev

Up his own sensual engines,

And how to pleasure someone else,

By pressing certain buttons, and listening for

The right cues

In a lover's face or in their labored breath...

He learned by their eyes that his body was

Doing the right thing, and when he

Had flubbed he learned he had missed the mark...

...And perhaps that was why it was ever so

Much more grievous when in the morning

He prepared to become an expatriate

Of his own precious psychic world...

Donning the war paint of cold water

From the faucet...

Laving his hills of scruples up, and

Attempting to rinse them down the drain

With a staunch ferocity;

Though many of them still dangled and swung

Like loud and heavy tribal jewelry

As he tumbled into his Work Self...

Now wearing the new perspective,

And psychically protective head gear,

Like the blinders on a horse...

Hoping that this time maybe he had shaved

In inch more of the anxiety of last Tuesday,

But my God...

Would one ever lose the weight

Of the shackles, and financial bondage

Of the day to day grind?...

Bill wondered if he would ever find

That answer in the solace of

His return to comfort later that night, (or any night)

When his ass could finally slip back onto

The casual cushion,

And his mind would be allowed to drift again

At it's leisure like a boat upon the lazy river,

Without Captain but the confines

Of his own wary mind...

9/25/24

Bunny Villaire

Edit #2