Floating on Sunshine After Rain Collection Vol. 2 by Lion Mel Davidson

2013 Poetry Collection Volume Two

dwp Royal Order House of David 3/14/2013

INDEX TITLE

PAGE

The Great Escape

Does Love Work?

Simplicity of a Child

Turmoil

Rehab

Hazy Wonder

Ground Reality

Breathless Shiver

Cat Walk

A Lot of Dog

Wisdom for the Wise

Daisy Chains

You Thought Wrong Dear

Special Sermons

Culinary Enjoyment

Reverberation

Lovelight

Dreamflight

Real Illusion

Carried Away

Can You Hear Me, John?

#1 The Great Escape

â&#x20AC;&#x153;Did you really expect us to allow, and that without regard for fellow man, such roughhouse here in our local hoosegow? Who did you think you were, maybe Tarzan? Swinging from cellblock to cellblock using our fine linen sheets, trying to escape? What were you thinking a guy of your weight, did you truly expect the strands to hold? Behold the man who lies dead in the sand: did you really expect us to allow?"

#2 Does love work?

Love: is this a mere word so often heard? Mayhap it is a feeling that ignites spasmodic thrilling? Happiness comes not with ease unless our childlike desire to please reciprocated is by a neighbor; sort of as when mothers go into labor. When all is said and done the race for life in death is won we remember only the lovely thoughts healthy rewards daily brought. What I would rather say, is love: the spirit thereof, has to be for all to see Godâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s magnificent treasure trove: yes, health and wealth must be love. Aug 19, 2012. ÂŠ All rights reserved

#3 Simplicity of a Child

Shudders wrench my body-frame, Christmas-neon flash out a gaudy-name as X marks the spot where Jesus as Christ once was: X-Mas had become a poltergeist! December certainly did not herald the birth of our Savoir and King; of what value is a flawed emerald or a snapped shepherd's sling? Oh, so many faults I found: prophecy, science, yes even make-believe supported my judgment calls; where â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;ere I looked sins abound, myself I taught personal views to retrieve from confines of mental walls. Bah! Humbug! Christmas is not for me: buying of presents for all to see? Dancing and singing around a tree? Santa Claus, reindeer, elves and the like, what happened to Jesus with the cross and spike? X-Mas is just a way for Satan to strike at our very hearts.

‘But wait a moment,’ a voice from on high sounded close and clear, Holy Spirit nigh: ‘The Children, what of their joys their faith, love, and hope? Pure souls cannot with cold logic cope. Why would you want babes to deprive of simple birthday spirit toys? Charity only can contrive that Christmas is for that time of year when even doubters come Jesus near.’ Stillborn infants are tragic truth denied a life of happy youth: have I on Christmas morn awoken so very grown-up and outspoken with facts and figures, yes proof galore, forgetting God's promise holds a store of basic worship grounded in just seeing Jesus without sin regardless of a date or time, a place or maybe some temple obscuring sweet smiles, a dimple? Too sad it is to contemplate, I fear I fell into the ditch and let the shibboleth of intellect skew my view and let aggravate my ego's nature, my pride's glitch, assuming I might be perfect. And so it is my dear, dear friends I came to realize that Bible facts with prophecy, albeit we should ne'er despise, is not God's greatest gift at all found to be in his treasure trove: nay beloved, the greatest gift is the simplicity of pure love! Dec 18, 2012. © All rights reserved

#4 Turmoil

My inner id though smartly hid may be said to have multivalent scope: as breasts would feed insatiable greed ever slaking thirst without hope. Like water cascades, her hairâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s brocade in silver strands become nominal coin of counterpoise value, an intrinsic snafu lost beyond the caves of her loin. Am I two faced or just misplaced adjacent to my feminine side? Is it illusion or intrusion, Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde?

#5 Rehab

Sniffing petrol or nail-polish remover was difficult to get away from, like when I had to stop chasing the 'Hoover' Sarah uses to make an income as she works in the job of a maid, but really she's just here to get laid. I don't chew anymore, as you might suspect, although my teething really itches; Sarah's daughters think I am a derelict, but they are only human bitches: what do they know of dog behavior? Daily they act as my tormentor. Then the solution came to me in a flash, it is my dirty little secret: in fact, it is better than smoking Afghan hash and I can do it in the closet! No more yelling after this breakthrough: I happy with my master's gym-shoe. Sep 15, 2012. ÂŠ All rights reserved

#6 Hazy Wonder

Wonder where Grandma is now; I’m sad she’s gone, her daily hugs a memory like her crisp amber pancakes and how she used to protect us from the drunken rage of mommy’s visitors. Can she see us maybe?

#7 Ground-Reality

So be it! Cannot avoid the past: fantasy moments we thought would last gasping in free-fall laughter forever after until that moment of truth appeared, which Death had engineered; time to quit.

#8 Breathless Shiver

Supposedly he ignores me as the grassy leaves sway undecidedly before his taut face; but that’s a scam. He knows precisely where and what I am, all the while he calmly ponders, ‘Should he attack or just scare me?’

Not the least bit bothered, his majesty confers security throughout all of the surroundings where diverse birds and other select creatures congregate, while sharing this surreal dimension of acute jeopardy.

Except for the obstinate, audacious flies gnawing away at anything moist, none dare touch him in the afternoon daze of post digestive apathy: once frolicking zebra limbs now supply the nurture that keeps the king as the king.

My sensibilities dictate, perhaps being this up close to the old lion is not the smartest thing I ever did; but then again, the breathless shiver of royal encounter compels me to risk all for a lifelong thrill shared with such a magnificent creature. Apr 3, 2012. ÂŠ All rights reserved

#9 Cat-Walk

I don't suppose a twitchy nose or a Pummeling Paw would do? The thing is this: in order to avoid a miss of the latest kitty fashion clear music tones, classic ivories clones must be plunked with passion.

I'm not Mozart, I'm not Brahms, nor indeed Vivaldi; but, I'll tell you that I'm the cat who plays the clown like Garibaldi!

#10 A Lot of Dog

Come! Sit! Stay! Play! why do you bark and bark all day? Dirty paws, sloppy kisses, always there for me: never misses. Steady companion, faithful friend loves me till the very end; lies at my feet, close by my side, in the car, in the park no enemy can hide. Evil spirits cannot lurk, you sense every unsafe quirk; loyal protector, live for the moment: joy, happiness and fun, forestalling your master's intent.

#11 Wisdom for the Wise

Wisdom is known by her children, albeit some were stillborn...

#12 Daisy Chains

Basal tuft salad perennial evergreen wilts as cast off weed... Childlike daisy chains, open to sunrise visits: capitulum night; Prostrate diffusion supports single flower stalks smooth, leafless, hairy.

#13 You thought wrong dear

"What? No chemicals in this water? Well, lemme pump some in." Grandpa grumpily growled.

"Why, you ole' fool, don't use that tool to make the water pure!" Grandma angrily howled.

Splish-splash! Like tepid teardrops fell the add-in liquid brew;. Spectators turned and scowled.

#14 Special Sermons And so I went to Church to read the bulletin; ‘twas here I found my niche for joy without the sin. In letters plain the herald said what typists interpret would from social fountains deep they interpret could: reviving extinct dodos with very simple typos!

Our church’s new TITHING promise: ‘Pastor upped his amount of troth – Up yours!’ … place donations in envelopes along with the deceased person you want remembered… The Fasting & Prayer Conference includes meals. Low Self Esteem Support Group meets 7 PM. Please use the back door. The ladies of the Church have cast off clothing of every kind. They may be seen in the basement on Friday afternoon. Now there I had my sermon sweet with social interaction, no need for Facebook or any Tweet or religious attraction…

#15 Cullinary Enjoyment

Italian pizza sausage is what makes the ‘snacky’ hot: four lips to savor such adage, red peppers with lots of whatnot; a woody as foraging stumpage, standing timber for open oven, highly seasoned minced meat traditionally stuffed, smoked, dried, pickled: from Satan’s Coven; no need to be cooked before you eat, collagen to be quaffed. Italian pizza sausage: kitchen fun in healthy dosage.

#16 Reverberation

gawky boys stumble in genetic confusion towards a sure path...

superlative dreams emulate stillborn naked illusion...

#17 Love-Light

Singular sunshine day now has cuddled naked boys: pond-surface reflection…

Singular sunless day now has disrobed poppies of their hue…

#18 Dreamflight

A sleeping knight living in the pages history dictates from the Middle-Ages awaited is by his retinue, who ensures all honor due is duly paid with high respect and witnessed is by the elect surrounding him from head to toe especially Pinocchio; a Cheshire catâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s purring fades in and out like some old soldier down with gout, around the world in 80 days Pass-partout defies delays. 22

A jester climbs yon ballerina nigh to sit, nobody minds this sweet dimwit; boyish dreams weave magic carpets on which to fly beyond ruin mundane and meander into many brooklets gilded promises of joy Elaine: sleep on my brave and handsome knight let none distract you from your flightâ&#x20AC;Ś

#19 Real Illusion

What is real, what is not? End the illusion of freedom by hangman's noose or bullet shot? Defiance or compliance, is there a visible difference? Is life a sitcom or some other abuse? Confront you is what I do whenever my inner chamber is violated; don't care if you're a member of established norms, or masturbated by endless forms of senseless bureaucratic slavery: it's still aberrational knavery designed integrity to squelch, it murders my soul as you blasphemy belch and my creativity quench with political stench...

#20 Carried Away

#21 Can You Hear Me, John?

Obscurity undefeated, diffusion entreated, assertion forever stunted, vocal utterance punted; opaque political veils refuse to reveal uprightness: first casualty of insatiable voracity rebounds on the seemingly innocent, though no such thing is real; tiny tufts of grass bedeck ravenous appetite for royal blood whence to take the fatal shot unsuspecting of eminent death as instant karma backlashes stark reality: ‘dig a grave for oneself by murderous intent killer-focus is Hell bent.’ Who listens? Who cares? Who dares defy fate? Feelings of insecurity arrive late, late, late… A lone dog urinates on a knoll of history, a wino urinates himself on the same knoll; life goes on towards death as usual: children play incessantly, blessedly ignorant of worldly reality… Oraculus Dec 21, 2009. © All rights reserved