The Edge of Oblivion
Three twenty something ladies straddle a wilted lawn chair...
One sits on the opposite of the other, like it were some teetering helter skelter on a playground of their youth...
The third sits in the middle and each of the women laugh at the slightest inflection of the other out on the frosty grass at near midnight...
"...Tell me, what the fuck does he know about whether my arts sophomoric or not?...
He's just a fucking old has-been from Loser'sville, Connecticut..."
They have a loose demeanor, and the black haired beauty in the middle of the chair leans Into the night sky as she rattles her tongue at her compatriots...
She's there but not quite here...
She wears a striped sweater that drops away from the naked flesh of her left shoulder...
The randy college party house in front of their charade blasts tunes that
Aim to satisfy the majority of the shell-shocked partygoers...
It spells out drones of general acceptance and the thrill of tittilating
Anticipation for further unveilings
Of reckless abandon...
The blonde on the far left gapes into the open door of the party house like she's staring into A howling crater in her mind...
The noise that's arising is so repetitive it's akin to
Long Press-on nails tapping a meaningless ditty over the insect shell of computer keys,
Or the on/off of a turn signal flexing...
Now the blonde tugs at her necklace
In a moment of existential indifference...
It's a small and a modest
Silver slab of nothing...
She swears that it resembles what
She thinks about herself most times,
But that's not her tonight...No...
Tonight she's someone else who's
Wild and free monicker
Has earned a new
Badge on the trophy table
Of these unsavory neanderthals...
There's not a thing in her way now
But herself
Because her boyfriend bopped her
Best friend...
The boyfriend's(Dustin's) pal is the host of this
Soirée...
The three women talk loudly from the strength of their drinks...
They talk loudly to convince themselves they are at a party, and
It's night, and they are young...
They talk loud and unbecoming, like a belch in a mess hall, and a
Pro Magnon Alpha Jock
Steps out onto the stage of the shadowy front porch to heed their call,
His identity swathed in a canopy of gloom...
"Hey, are you all freezing your little asses off out here? There's like a keg and real
Live people inside in case you missed the memo..."
The three ladies words pile up on each other like a greased Totem Pole of
Missed cues, and the Jock laughs and
Waves them over to share a smoke on the rotted porch
So he can try his magic on these displaced party favors of the night...
In the morning they'll be promptly shoved back out the front door
Like the casualty that they've become...
Smeared lipstick, and their colors run as they cry from little
Foresight of the night before...
On the edge of oblivion...
The end of Innocence....
And the sounding of the Gong...
The three ladies disappear into the ether
Adieu!...Until another fateful night...
In the evening the six Frat Boy will be back out on the front porch
As the hail whips around like ammunition...
Their phones ring off the hook with tips to go down into the basement
As a tornado tears through their humble town...
5/8/24
Bunny Villaire
Homeless Eyes
She punctured me from out of glass
Without intent as she strode passed
We broke the barriers of class...
The mask society permits...
To gaze into her windswept eyes...
So hungry and unsupervised...
How many of us still survive
Bouncing upon this rustic plane?...
With judgements quashing liquid hearts...
And pointed views like traffic cones...
It's easier to close the door
Where yowls mutate and turn to roars...
I see her digging through the trash...
This angel from another sphere...
The broadcast she keys in is vast...
Her shirt in shreds, as she draws near...
Ebony skin so dark and deep...
I'll see her when I go to sleep..
She floats over the concrete slabs...
Where shooting stars go flying past...
Bold advertising overhead
Will paint a world unequal to
The broken sequins from the chain
That someone dispelled in the rain...
To gaze into her windswept eyes...
So hungry and unsupervised...
How many of us still survive
Bouncing upon this rustic plane?....
They're closing books on human rights...
Decks are stacked, the lines extend...
Now more than ever, I'll need a friend
To gaze into my homeless eyes...
If you have something left to give...
If you're susceptible, and raw...
If you resist the claw machine
You'll find me dancing by the stream...
Maybe tonight when moonbeams spill
Our sights will lock and without words
We'll shed our chains, the flood within
Will draw us spinning out our skins...
Bunny Villaire
5/6/24
Edit #4
First Words of Day, in the Morning Dew
Poets.
Where others are tortured
by sleeplessness
We turn torment into art form
And lay into it tooth and nail
With all the entrails
Hanging loose
So juices spill, rolling down
The crevasse...
Blotted up from the chin
onto a diner serviette and
repressed in print...
The pain still fresh expressed
like from a grinding mill
where sand is powdered
into dream...
Sweet is our profession
With the only hand on the call
Box being as transparent as a
Vesper
As it hovers over a heart
In the breaking darkness of dawn
When it has just freshly been Forgiven...
Languid in our vision, as cool
And calm as palm fronds
Swaying as the
Breeze exudes
The breath,
The word becoming new life
As dead sheets are turned...
And the corners are tucked
5/4/24
Bunny Villaire
& Mavia Villaire
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
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