Seeking world peace and personal peace through poetry
David Jackson 
Oh Dandelion where are you
oh Dandelion De La Rue
it’s a lonely world without you
Dandelion De La Rue
I can hear the leaves a falling
saying as they do
oh where oh where are you
I can hear the birds a calling
Coo Coo Coo Coo Coo Coo
Dandelion De La Rue
For my grandfather:
You said on that porch,
“I just can’t work no more.”
“I just can’t work no more.”
that’s what you lived for.
the porch is gone
the swing is gone
the well is gone
the chicken house
the smoke house,
the barn,
are gone.
the house is gone.
the cherry tree,
the apple trees,
the cows are gone
and the family moved to town.
Your tractor is gone
and the wire with which
you held it together.
That field is there
I stood in it again
it was empty and bare
without you there.
Yes that field is there.
You planted tobacco and
at the end of each row,
watermelon.
You worked me hard for a boy
but I know work
and having to stay
until its done.
The bell is gone,
to call the farmer to the house.
It was the house and the field.
the house and the field…
and town on Saturday.
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TWILIGHT CITY
In her eyes, she sees the diamond twilight city,
where the Harlows and the Garbos never die.
In her heart, she knows the star she longs to follow,
to the sign up in the Hills where angels fly.
And the legendary Metro Goldwyn Mayer
is her freeway to the sky.
And every dime-a-dance girl with a suitcase on the sidewalk
knows her story has already been told.
And the bus back home to Lonelyville,
it don’t leave here anymore.
And every Norma Jean who bought a ticket to the dream,
saw the twilight city lose its tinsel glow.
While the bus back home to Lonelyville,
it don’t leave here anymore.
No the bus back home to Lonelyville,
it don’t leave here anymore.
Werds & Muzik N.Tween 2015.
Tiddly do bugaboo
what’s up with you?
Squeeky wheel please add some grease
before the crickets run off
with the wagon
Tiddly do bugaboo
what’s up with you?
Life wasn’t supposed to be like this
Mr Whiskers
I was supposed to dream and find out stuff
figure it all out
and all I am left with
is beauty, bugaboo
beauty lying there all along
in the way the cat sleeps
all day with no plans at all
and shows up at the same each night beside me
beauty bugaboo in the light
in the shadows and in Monet’s snow.
There is nothing in wisdom
except for the knowledge of your own ignorance
my little bug-a-boo-kins
We thought we could stop the gun with a flower
What if fourteen billion years
later the universe collapses
and explodes again
among other exploding universes
and that fourteen billion years
was fourteen seconds
of a child blowing up a balloon
and wondering
what his universe
was made of?
“What if a billion years were a second,
says the child,
“and these stars are
in someone’s balloon.”
AAAND from e e cummings
“who knows if the moon’s
a balloon,coming out of a keen city
in the sky–filled with pretty people?
( and if you and I should
get into it,if they
should take me and take you into their balloon,
why then
we’d go up higher with all the pretty people
than houses and steeples and clouds:
go sailing
away and away sailing into a keen
city which nobody’s ever visited,where
always
it’s
Spring)and everyone’s
in love and flowers pick themselves”
Fever
About this fever I’m not apathetic.
Carrots might help. I need a credible
Complaint. Is there anyone more careful?
He tries to make me upset. Optimistic,
he tries at what he is about. Memento
and relic, a reminder of plumage
from the great Phoenix, our advantage
merely an investment of time. Ratio
between kin to kind. I do not exclaim.
There’s a lot more to it than security,
finding the necessary guards, carefree
and built. I have limits, a user name;
our dreams roll around in the subconscious;
and of others’ dreams we become envious
Indian
Indistinguishable
Native blood
Touches native blood.
Indian, or Itailienne?
All I ask is for some
Language, to distinguish
And not the loveliness of a culture extinguished.
In the end
Not all believing in Mother Earth and Grandfathers,
Everyone only heard of San Martino
Not all lands, only some.
Secondary Fundraisers
“If your old don’t try to change yourself, change your environment.”
~B.F. Skinner
Let’s throw a party to support wildlife. Antennae
headbands will be a requirement. Circles of fine
men and women, environmentalists, will be there.
Clear plastic cups and cutlery made from recycled
materials will inspire us. Eyelashes elongated by
Maybelline, and lids sporting psychedelic, metallic
eye shadow will make all the women look more like
butterflies . Sidling up next to the token CEO, our
prettiest organizer will flash her pearly whites while
holding a glass of champagne demurely.
Shoulder to shoulder, when it is time to dance, we
will step first one direction, then the other, following
the Native American chieftain that we’ve hired for
the occasion. Our decorations must have all to do
endangered species and national parks, etc. Roads
will be a secondary concern for the government.
for a few months. Interpreted signs will be the talk
of the town. Accessories handcrafted by artisans
will be on display or given as party favors. That
will be the party of the year. Older folks will love it.
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