Buried Deep
Why does it take so long
To realize the simplest things
That we own are fun for
Other people?....
Hidden away in our treasure
Chest...
...A joke...
A song...
A cryptic verse...
A facial contortion...
A tawdry limerick...
A smile that warms a chilly day...
There are people
Starving like baby
Birds in Indonesia,
But there are also people
Starving right outside your back door...
Hurting to be seen...
Yearning just to care...
The mechanized world hastens
Every New Year
To silence the outpourings
Of the human heart,
But everyone,
Whether society tells us or not
Holds the key
To unlock another person's
Treasure chest
By showing that you're
A good listener,
And cracking wide your soul...
Ah, such a fragrant place
For a new sapling to grow!...
5/2/24
Bunny Villaire
Death Comes Easy
Death comes easy for the pawns
On the dust strewn board...
The wind bears down,
And they fall prey to the whims
Of the predatory types...
Those Aces who play Lord,
Overhauling their game
'til they sway dizzy from defeat...
Collapsing like felled corn husks
When the flail
Brings the beatings down...
Back on the street they return
To their desperate proclivities...
Alvin has a crack habit that
Makes him perform sex acts
With strange men that he'd never
Spit on if he'd
Encounter them
By the light of day...
Alvin was top of his class in Juilliard...
Now he's living on Social Security...
He has a look on his face of perpetual perplexity...
He lets Hipsters kick his ass for a cigarette...
He's been wearing the same stained D.A.R.E tee
For two weeks...
His face is a pitted cork-board of anomalies...
Whenever he gets a message there's some rock
In the vicinity
He starts sweating, and takes off in a mad sprint...
He has a hump named Theo in a baseball cap
That deals to him,
And to keep the income poring in
Theo does everything he can to make
Alvin's life a burning bag of dogshit...
He steals his car so Alvin can't get anywhere...
He throws bricks through Alvin's windows
So he'll continue to live in fear...
Theo's got his cock in Alvin's mouth right now
As he spies from his rusted blue Sedan
At his working girl Phyllis who stalks the walk across
The street...
She disappears down the shadow of an alley,
And Theo throws back his head and sighs
As he reaches climax,
Exploding into the caverns of Alvin's throat...
The sun is coming down as Phyllis scrounges for a ciggie
From her purse and thinks about her daughter
Who needs a root canal...
The sun is disappearing fast, and Phyllis doesn't have a John
For the evening,
But just for a stolen moment she appreciates the majesty
Of the pink and orange turning to gold and rosy red,
Outlining the office buildings and the rooftops of her city...
She glances over at the bridge on the Grand River behind
Theo's car,
And falls in love with her city all over again
As it shimmers in the dying light
Just like when she was nineteen and first moved here...
Inspired, and giddy she walks over to a car window
Inspecting her face...
Aside from the bags under her eyes
She decides that she wears far too much makeup
For a thirty year old,
And pulls a tissue out of her purse,
Vigorously wiping away at the piled on concealer...
Phyllis is done with this job
She tells herself...
She'll pull her daughter out of their big apartment
If she has to...
They'll live on Welfare, and eat
Government cheese
If she can just have a chance at something,
Anything new for a change...
The door of the car pops open loudly,
A short man with a scornful mocking smile,
And an ugly brownish shade of teeth
Hid behind sunglasses exits the vehicle...
He has a badge that shines
Like a butterknife,
Disguising it's position or purpose...
Under the powerful hypnosis of
The sun
Phyllis didn't realize that she was using
A police car as a powder room,
And cops always ride for free...
5/2/2024
Bunny Villaire
Long Gone Like a Turkey Through the Corn
I've been staring far past the picture frame
Over rolling hills, and the painted shrub...
Where unblinking eyes nest at tops of trees,
I've retreated still like a hallowed fleet
Of unheeded birds...
These sweet seraphim...
Where the Nightjar fly unbeknownst to most
With the moistened view of the mystified
I have flown the coop where the
Paint has dried...
Walking without thought to the public square
I'd been hassled and cajoled by crowds,
And it took me long to unsnarl my limbs
From ferocious maw of the savage mob...
At long last I found in a patch of green
A wise Artisan with his mounted work...
His grand mural drew me in by chance...
It was here that I saw a place to dance...
I've been staring far past the picture frame
Over rolling hills, and the painted shrub...
Where unblinking eyes nest at tops of trees,
I've retreated still like a hallowed fleet
Of unheeded birds...
These sweet seraphim...
Where the Nightjar fly unbeknownst to most
With the moistened view of the mystified
I have flown the coop where the
Paint has dried...
With his palette dripping down his shirt,
And a satyr's beard with a eagle's face
That was lined with smiles from a easy soul
I was waved along 'til I was displaced...
Leaping without pause into dizzy sprawl
I checked all my bags at the counter stall,
And I felt the weight rolling down my spine...
All was there no sweat 'til I crossed the line...
I've been staring far past the picture frame
Over rolling hills, and the painted shrub...
Where unblinking eyes nest at tops of trees,
I've retreated still like a hallowed fleet
Of unheeded birds...
These sweet seraphim...
Where the Nightjar fly unbeknownst to most
With the moistened view of the mystified
I have flown the coop where the
Paint has dried...
4/28/24
Bunny Villaire
Zen Garden
When I get bogged down
In the unblessed flesh
There's a calm retreat
Where my soul can rest...
Dateless sands of time
Have been raked just so...
And the well stacked stones
Look like Tokyo...
It's an easy guess
In this dog eat dog
Where a broken mind
Can see through the fog...
Zen Garden!...
Ride the eastern winds...
Like a long lost friend...
Zen Garden!...
Gliding on the waves,
Mythic mountain range...
Gazing at Bonsai,
On the winding path...
It's no wonder time
Need no hourglass...
Zen Garden!...
Fighting earthly ills
By just standing still...
Zen Garden!...
See your silhouette
Outlined by sunset...
Beauty beyond words
Now will come to pass...
While the songs of birds
Cleanse my mind at last...
Zen Garden!...
Zen Garden!...
When the jigsaw blue
Is full of plot holes,
And my two brown eyes
Needs a toilet roll
I get petrified...
But if roads were paved
In kimono flowers
I'd emerge unscathed...
Vagrant silhouette
On the river Kwai
Is a Sensei sent
To drink in the sky...
Zen Garden!...
Ride the eastern winds...
Like a long lost friend...
Zen Garden!...
Gliding on the waves,
Mythic mountain range...
Gazing at Bonsai,
On the winding path...
It's no wonder time
Need no hourglass...
Zen Garden!...
Fighting earthly ills
By just standing still...
Zen Garden!...
See your silhouette
Outlined by sunset...
Beauty beyond words
Now will come to pass...
While the songs of birds
Cleanse my mind at last...
Zen Garden!...
Zen Garden!...
In some twilight state
Scaling the eclipse
I was sleepwalking
To red carpet hips...
Your low hanging fruit
Had me mystified...
I'd gone deaf to quakes...
Missed the warning signs...
Now I'm taking stock...
Peering past ice caps
As the cherry trees
Cause my wings to flap...
Zen Garden!...
Ride the eastern winds...
Like a long lost friend...
Zen Garden!...
Gliding on the waves,
Mythic mountain range...
Gazing at Bonsai,
On the winding path...
It's no wonder time
Need no hourglass...
Zen Garden!...
Fighting earthly ills
By just standing still...
Zen Garden!...
See your silhouette
Outlined by sunset...
Beauty beyond words
Now will come to pass...
While the songs of birds
Cleanse my mind at last...
Zen Garden!...
Zen Garden!...
4/23/24
Bunny Villaire
I Love The Music and I Won’t Ever Quit!... (...Legitimately!)
Anyone who knows me knows I'm a certified music lover. I am a fool for it...I drool for it. It's my bread and butter. I'm so throughly obsessed that I: A. Work at a Record Store and consider myself a Music Detective; B. Write Songs and head my own band and haven't not been in a band since 2001; C. Have a massive music collection that doubles as my side hustle; D. Dream of one day owning my own Night Club/Record Store; E. Create imaginary scenarios in my head with my fav musicians of how we would hang out and chat if we finally ran into each other in the real world. I know. I'm a bit kooky.
My first album I owned was on Cd and I remember it was my own pick and paved the way for a vast majority of what I listen to which splinters off into many differing sub-genres. This particular gem was MC Hammer's 'Too Legit to Quit'. MC Hammer had it all in my teenage mind. He had a challenging fashion sense; he loved to dance; and he loved to rhyme. Hammer was all about making a splash with his presentation, and it was his gutsy Pop Rap that set the wick of my desire for electronic; funny; atmospheric and sexy music that had a distinct sense of style. The dude wore pants that were called 'parachute pants' and were very hilariously parodied in one of my fav comedy shows in the 90's In Living Color. Hammer also had a lot of good messages in 'Too Legit' that intrigued me to continue to pursue the interest of challenging subject matter that explored discrepancies in race relations and challenges inflicted by a blind society. He did all this with a lightening quick delivery that challenged and demanded reaction in the form of dance! I was 11 when I bought this album, but continued to branch out into differing segues of protest music that had a dance beat up to the present day.
I remember the next step up from this album(though there were differing choices made before this choice that also influenced me, like a handful of tape cassettes by the UK Punk/Goth/Pop/Experimental chaps The Stranglers) was Marvin Gaye's 'What's Going On' that I begged my Mom like an eager beaver with music fever for my 16 year old Birthday. This funky happening piece of art got my blood pumping and I was wowed by the poetry that dripped from Gaye's passionate voice but it lacked Hammer's steady pulse or humorous edge. For this reason it didn't get as many spins as MC. Onward I went to discover more and more music in an attempt to fuse these two elements of Poetry and a Beat driven electronic pulse equipped with a goofy grin.
Indeed I was intrigued by other music in my teens that got my booty shaking and bumping to a more distant shore then any place Hammer may have came from, but Hammer opened many doors for me. As soon as these doors creaked opened I made sure to jam a foot in and keep it lodged in there like a crook who has a sneaky taste for diamonds. Suddenly I was immersed in bands like UK's Underworld, and the solely instrumental UK Ambient/House band Future Sound of London. I wouldn't have given Future Sound a chance if I hadn't first been drawn to the surreal and oddly funny poetry antics of Underworld and their hypnotic Euro House beats with observational ramblings. On my favorite Underworld album strangely dubbed 'Second Toughest In the Infants' Underworld challenged me with surreal lyrics that were disjointed yet beautiful and drove my poetry with their odd feeling based tones. On Jaunita; which was the 1st track on the album, there was magnificent song that kept your interest for it's entire sixteen minute length which was jaw dropping for many in it's extraordinary length. The lyrics to this song were mesmerizing:
"...Homeless strays,
Gathering
Outside your window
Bootleg babies call to you lying among the mosquitos
That summer's fever coming
Cats are gathering
Outside your window
Homeless strays
Bootleg babies,
Calling to you
Lying among
Lie among the mosquitos
Your rails
Your thin
Your thin paper wings
In the wind
Your sun, fly
Danglin
Danglin
Your window shattered in the wind
The sun lying
Your cocacola sign
Your rails
Your thin
Paper wings
Paper wings
Resonator..."
Very William S. Burroughs like indeed who was my favorite writer at the time.
With Future Sound I finally stripped the poetry away altogether and allowed the atmospheric ambience create poetry ideas in my head without the words leading the way. When this dissection of the words occurred I was finally inspired to be a singer and write my own songs. There were sound samples of people talking in Future Sound that kept my fish on the line with their dark humor theme of people in society interacting with an ever increasing mechanized society engulfing their freewill.
I haven't listened to MC Hammer's seminal album for years, but now listening to it I hear elements of House music and Funk that I tumbled down into rabbit hole style which would later metamorphose into Euro House and Italo Disco in terms of my taste. Of course there was also elements of Hip Hop in Hammer, but a slightly modernized version of 80's Rap which is devoid of bad language and showcases a more tongue and cheek element to it that doesn't take itself too seriously. To this day I'm always reminding myself when writing music that an element of humor and child's play must be present in the music process! I do at times use a cuss word or two but they are almost completely subliminal if rarely if at all present.
Thanks to MC Hammer for keeping me drunk on the discovery of new and challenging music buried in the abyss of a hefty pile of records and cds. Music makes life more bearable and is the host at every party! I love the music and won't ever quit! In the world of music there's always a new music tidal wave to surf on, and the treasures at the end of the beach are always great in terms of newly discovered musical bliss boasting a questionable fashion sense.
Too Legit to Quit:
https://youtu.be/wiyYozeOoKs?si=TFP9N6KHg2paEvFt
MC Hammer in parachute pants in 'U Can't Touch This'
This song was why I purchased 'Too Legit to Quit' though it ended up not being on this album:
https://youtu.be/otCpCn0l4Wo?si=6Zq4YjDXkof---ff
4/19/24
Bunny Villaire
Impressions on a Cold Workday
Where the grass pokes out
In punky tufts,
Watch the Spanish Women
On their way to the bus...
They have rags lashed around
Frigid flesh...
There is jagged concrete,
And some sly Winter left...
When the body is cold
Eyes investigate sights
Of sensation and code...
While their sitting upright
In this Waiting Asylum that's
Moored to concrete
The two Spanish women tap
A dance with their feet...
Woman on the right peers at
Structure beyond
Rather high up the hill...
There are words sprawled upon
The ancient bricked business
That's set for the chop...
Pretty soon with construction
There will be a new spot...
She's intrigued by the structure...
The palatial design...
How the framework juts out
Into festive wild lines
Is how her trembling awe
Makes her humble heart lurch...
She is warmed by this vibrance
In the place where wind hurts...
The woman on the left is lost
Within ersatz lights
From her cellphone that she purchased
After chasing status heights...
She is playing a Soduko game,
While trash blows around both legs...
There's an ironed down chicken hut
That she eyes now with distaste...
The bus pulls up at long last,
Revives both the women out of their trance...
The one on right is glowing bright...
She boards & pays with fleeting glance...
Left woman has head slumped down...
She spills out her coins all over the ground!...
The bus driver bends to help field her through her woe...
Seventy five cents remains expected for her toll...
4/14/24
Bunny Villaire
Edit#4
Field Hand
Priscilla cooks a hearty dinner...
The rain washes the windowpanes...
Now Mr. Jack eats like a winner...
Propped on an elbow, Priscilla feigns...
Behind a coffee cup she snickers...
What pretty dimples will never show...
A shroud of shade hangs in the kitchen...
Her doting husband snags his coat...
Ambitious landowner now calling...
His slaves are ousted from his fields...
Where did Mr. Jack's pretty new wife go?...
His prickly callous heart now reels...
Lo, a lamp hung in the distance!...
Where Jim, the Farmer's favorite stud,
Resides inside with his prized banjo...
Wood shack is slathered; ensconced with mud...
Jack marches out there on a hunch...
Inhaling every danger sign...
The matching set of fresh footprints...
His wife and Jim's make a bee-line...
He sneaks around this hut, and that...
Rotting relics stand for his neglect
For human nature and compassion...
At last arriving at his suspect...
Red fabric blocking out all windows;
The Boss can hear her moan and gasp...
The ugly music of bad bedsprings...
Have Jack embedded in his tracks...
Mr. Jack peers through a slither...
The door is propped an eighth an inch...
Jim Bo has both her legs spread high...
He's driving home his fever pitch!...
Jim's making his long point well known...
Flushed Priscilla has veiled both eyes...
There's cards spread out upon a table...
She's wincing as Jim slaps her thigh...
Jack stumbles back out the door backwards!...
He can't unsee Jim's every thrust...
He's off upon a ticked mad dash....
It's murder or he'll have to bust!...
At home in his messed room of horrors
Each time he blinks he's seeing red
Mr. Jack's gun's up and gone missing...
Gloms can of gas out from his shed...
Spilling some gas upon his boards,
Now Mr. Jack pops off a cork...
He guzzles down some Moonshine quick...
The twilight leaking in with force...
Though filthy with his shame and rancor,
Jack sets at counter for a spell,
And contemplates his roaring anger...
He's without compass drowned in his well...
He stares at pans that hang above him...
He looks down at his quaking hands...
Mr. Jack's whip's hung up in the corner...
For many years blacks drove his land...
He wonders if they all despise him...
These slaves that Mr. Jack assumed
Were dumb as rocks, and made for labor...
Inside his skull they shared no room...
...No, not until this ruined moment...
Mr. Jack lingers, deep in thought...
He feels a bulge inside his jacket...
A half smoked stogie long forgot...
He lights it's tip; discards the match
With little caution on the floor...
His ornate house erupts in a wall of flames!...
In vain Jack searches for an unblocked door...
Back at Jim's shack, the lover's pause
Their limbs entwined give off a playful scent...
A look of concern creases Jim's brow...
A gruesome scream slipped through his vent...
Priscilla and Jim stand out upon the porch
Watching the white hot flames erupt
Where once the Bossman's house had stood...
Mr. Jack's storybook's now shut...
Jim drags a hand down 'cross his face,
And stumbles in to get his hootch...
Thinks now the farmland goes to the slaves,
Least until a new Boss comes home to roost...
4/2/24
Bunny Villaire
Watering the Concrete
Gazing down at my feet
As they drag me
On my way...
The feeling has
Long since relinquished
And I wonder as I stray
Far off from the center,
Or is it nearer
To the middle?...
I've been walking
On these piles of clay
Since I was very little...
Malm, that is the sacred
Chalk material
The lowly brick
That makes
Myself a house
Fast, bound
From the wind
Of wolves...
Their breath upon my livelihood
That rises through
The cracks and chimney stacks
Aloft as every earthly thought
Crumbles and falls
At these relic
Foot prints
That I've pissed off
Pounding at the plates
And streaks
Of the lines
That branch out
Every which
Until they chip away
At my small reserve of
Steel intent
Until my tennis shoes
Lift off
And leave this gravel bed
Behind
And I suffer no more
Hard edged thoughts...
Only discord with the night...
Floating like a Chinese lantern...
Losing time
Like a car
Leaves a hitchhiker
Frozen in the rearview,
Disappearing til she's only
A cold dot upon the horizon...
Mavia &
Bunny Villaire
3/27/24
Cricket Ensemble
A Poem In Honor Of A Cat Mourning Another Cat
When the dark is suddenly flooding in
Like a symphony of woes...
Tho you cross yourself
Where the daggers dance so
High above your clothes...
There is still the unkempt
Terrace with the lattice
Shawled in vine...
You can linger there
In a seam split chair
Til the quintessence of time...
Or gaze into the outgrowth
With your eyes honed down
To points...
You'll become aware of the
Subtleties of all
Cosmos, cads, and squeaks...
Your nerves will be
Riled to the test
Where the
Cloaks and
And the willows weep...
Peer deep, and deeper still
Until you can't separate
The shapes
Of your ass and elbow,
And the kitchen sink...
Make a stab at that
Second take,
And when you're finally truly
At a loss,
Then the truth
Comes billowing in!...
It's in darkness that we
Clutch the gauntlet
Of what's vital to begin...
3/26/24
Bunny Villaire
Edit #4