Thursday, November 30, 2017

q

by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

for previous poem in series, click here





are you quite through?

quink had never seen maria so angry

she pointed to the window

zorg, the chauffeur, was standing beside the fountain

and the moon was shining through the trees

professor quinn told me a different story, quink began

but maria turned and left the room

quink decided he might as well finish his sandwich

but when he looked around

the tall red-haired maid was taking his sandwich and highball glass away


which way was the front door?

he found himself in a long corridor

with an elevator

an elevator?

he had thought the house had only one floor

he pressed the button and waited for the elevator

as he did he remembered maria

as she had been when they were children

summering beside lake geneva

before the peace talks broke down


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Wednesday, November 29, 2017

p

by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

for previous poem in series, click here





perhaps you have forgotten
your quest for paradise
no longer bite people on the leg
and have learned to pretend to be nice

the princess in the tower
still ignores you as you pass by
the pirates in the pool hall
never thought you were a regular guy

the puppy that you loved so much
wants to play a game
but you prefer to smoke your pipe
to your eternal shame

the portraits in your ancestral home
still percolate on the walls
but nothing is left in the iron safe
but uncle paul’s golf balls

pour another cup of coffee
as you wait for lawyer smith
the handyman left last evening
but who did he leave with?

you left your pink pajamas
in a subway telephone booth
your poems turn to popsicle sticks
and your lies to truth


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Tuesday, November 28, 2017

o

by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

for previous poem in series, click here





oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
sometimes i feel so sad
and remember the long ago days
and the expectations i had

though i walked the streets in a haze
and ate at wendy’s alone
and slept on a wet park bench
my dreams had not turned to stone

i defied the powers that were
in their temples of metal and glass
in their towers destined to fall
when the truth was revealed at last

it was only a matter of time
it was obvious at a glance
when rainbows would fill the sky
and little children come out to dance

but the days and the years went by
the decades and the centuries
and the towers are still there
not even swaying in the breeze

o dreamers unite!
do not drown in the river of night
keep alive the heavenly flame
in the end it will turn out all right


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Monday, November 27, 2017

n

by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

for previous poem in series, click here





never seek to nullify
the neverness of not
do not despair, my darling
give it all you’ve got

the nectar of the nightingales
is sold in little packets
by nihilists and ne’er-do-wells
in expensive dinner jackets

you left a bowl of noodles
on the vicar’s coffee table
he will send a bill for damages
as soon as he is able

they found your old blue notebook
on the beach where nora drowned
she drank coffee by the gallon
and ate candy by the pound

how hard is it, really
to remember your old friends
though they never become famous
or meet unseemly ends?

let us gather at the river
as the dawn is turning pale
nancy may be in paradise
but nicky is in jail


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Saturday, November 25, 2017

m

by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

for previous poem in series, click here





fish are mad at the ocean
birds are mad at the air
snakes ate mad at the long green grass
because life is so unfair

people are mad at each other
all the world around
they poke fingers in each others faces
and make hideous sounds

all the world’s sad creatures
crawl across the ground
o where can fairness be encountered
where can justice be found?

prophets through the ages
have proclaimed love as the answer
but yet there is no peace on earth
only hatred’s spreading cancer

there is no cure for hatred
buried in the world’s red heart
maybe it is time to give it up
and make a brand new start


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Friday, November 24, 2017

l

by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

for previous poem in series, click here





love love love love love
on the wings of purple doves
flying through the rain of fate
lit by lightning bolts of hate

nobody likes me
this i know
sometimes i wish
it were not so

luck smiled on me
in days of old
once or twice
or so i am told

there is a city
by the sea
forbidden
to the likes of you and me

the streets are paved
with practiced ease
demons whisper
in the giggling breeze

golden doorways open wide
but who knows what is inside?
weary pilgrims put down cash on
vistas of unfathomed passion


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Thursday, November 23, 2017

k

by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

for previous poem in series, click here





mommy, where is daddy?
little katie cried
he has gone away, my darling
gone for a long long ride

he shot a man in cheyenne
with his trusty forty four
now they’ll string him up in the morning
and his feet won’t touch the floor

oh mother say it is not so
little katie wailed
the moon is but an ember
the horizon doth grow pale

tomorrow leaves will fall from trees
and highways glow with rain
mothers will feed their children bacon
and wild horses roam the plains

waitresses will pour coffee
for truck drivers named hank
and lawyers draw up papers
for the presidents of banks

wise women will mix potions
and wise men scratch their heads
dogs and children jump and shout
but poor daddy will be dead


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