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Cow Lover

strongest cloven fiend
a face adored by Venus
beautiful bestial body
so loved by God in Genesis

take the crimson string
tied upon his velvety hide
red thread cuts the skin
ankles bound for the ride

hoisted on the mantle
an all engulfing spiral
upon pearlescent horns
blackish fur of desire

dark red heart
beating at his side
a full blooded kiss
could never be denied

Malfeasance of my money

which perpetrators most likely find quite funny

Super bastards and sons of bitches wantonly deceive
easily earning the sobriquet nefarious charlatans heave
vainly doing devilish deeds done dirt cheap and leave
a broke bloke (such as writer of these words)
whereby he doth perceive
sudden horror and nothing short of a cyber thieve.

Donald Coons and Philip Stevens
pose as legitimate senior
customer service representative/
relation officers who
(may be savvy with accredited learning) apply
a misleading electronic address as follows -

I Yearn for Snow

I yearn for snow
yet it only rains.
And still, I run outside,
earnest and ready,
arms outstretched,
clothes getting wet,
I stick my tongue out and catch raindrops.

I yearn for snow
and magical, wintry air
that may kiss the tip of my nose
and paint it a shade of red.
But only on select days,
does this air show her face,
so I run outside,
and am filled with glee
when my exhales create tiny clouds.
By the time I’ve finished breakfast,
only a whisper of her remains.

I yearn for snow

Naive Faith (Faith Without Compass)

Dripping wet weepy  gold droplets imaginatively spun on trees,
a less than poetic splatter on plain ground  slowly saturated,
stun the half asleep early morning riser to their,mission,
the thoughtful tenacious one who reflects in rivulets of colour,
can the amalgam they just witnessed evolve without hindrance in view,
into a manifest potent fertile growth of worthiness that edifies,
or is that merely a naive faith without compass,
without rudders, a colour coded map, the inkling within,
to opulent observer who seeks a pristine truth untarnished,

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