The Princess
She had a knack for adorning herself with
Ancient Castles of Spain
Which were on the outside fortified with
Earthly elements that held...
No one outside dared push the boundaries of
Her choice of sanctioned self,
Though there were wolves and wild dogs
Always yowling with a thirst for flesh
At the outskirts of her fortress,
Inhaling precious turtle meat
From the edges of the
Widened picture frame...
She had a knack for adorning herself with
Ancient Castles of Spain
Which were on the outside fortified with
Earthly elements...
She had to keep out all the enemies and used many
Keen enforcements, and slights of hand
To keep her private quarters safe,
And her soul elevated in the keep far from the moat,
And place where the commoners retreat
When days grow long, and shadows thin...
Her skin rarely growing tan...
So far from sight, and accusation...
She had a knack for adorning herself with
Ancient Castles of Spain
Which were on the outside fortified with
Earthly elements that held...
The future was foretold that she would die
Inside her head,
But the sand clock
Cracked it's glass,
And everything went rushing out
In a gasp of air and lively breeze
There wasn't anything to save...
And the truth that she stockpiled
Was swiftly scattered to the skies
As her eyes sealed up like shells
And she became like
Frozen ground...
Bunny Villaire
6/15/24
Edit#2
Reflections by Still Waters
During the entire period of this flight
No one can or will
Attempt to bar entry
To her bloated tongue
That hangs
There snakelike,
Like a rope bell
From the skies...
Keep your hands inside
The moving vehicle, and
Attempt to adhere
A second pair
Of safety googles
To your face for comfort...
The Weeping Caravan is now
So devastatingly vulnerable...
See the sober groups in funeral garb...
And wouldn't you cease to know it
To avoid her morass of
Braids, and epic tangles
That continue after death...
The strangle vine beneath the
Kind caress...
She's aiming to close the door
So violently rough on you
And all that you've achieved,
Because she's cast a glaring judgement
Before the next still,
And the words her friends
Have piled high...
The pale yellow chicken clucks...
Have lastly sunken teeth...
Hello, My Dear...
Those amino acids that
Seek to invade me
Tell me that I have nothing
I should fear for your feisty
Interlopers
Dressed in earnest shades of blue,
Though you were to seem so genuine
Before you sped the tractor over all that we
Held dear, throwing a deadly final switch...
During this flight
No one can or will
Attempt to bar entry
To her bloated tongue
That hangs
There snakelike,
Like a rope bell
From the skies..
How do they aim to know?
Eyes in armor that lie behind the castle moat...
...The same one's that I return a gaze to after
Lifetimes of remote viewing...
Barely breaking a sweat before the newest force
Ensues...
The spiders pass into this realm
Unscathed,
As I convince myself that aid
Will be forthcoming...
She takes me in cold arms,
We watch the moments tick off, under
An evolution of still photographs...
I laugh afterwards in grief...
Losing light like birds in flight
Below a sunset
That has caught us groping for
Lost straws
With pants and skirt akimbo...
On the edge of skinny diving
For a mythic mountain glide...
See you at the end of night!..
Wonder if you'll nurse your presence....
'til the ponds of frogs run dry..
I forgive you for us then,
Though I remain
As much to blame if not
More so
In my delineated
Rubble of past form...
6/15/24
Bunny Villaire
Edit #5
(The photograph)The Oracle, 1949.
By John Gutmann
Sneaky Suspicion
Haven't got much but a sneaky suspicion...
These honeycomb walls have gone
Wet with attrition...
I sit with my glass gazing
Out at the stars...
The oil heavy canvas of night stretches far...
...Yet, still something nags like a
Stick in the gears...
I stand face to face
With the man in the mirror,
And hear the birds play as they plummet,
And dive...
Out there in the jungle of concrete and steel
There's metal on metal that disguises
What's real...
Inside my bone skeleton where big questions boil
There's a codex of semblances
That ripen and spoil...
I feed them wild lettuce, and red cabbage heads...
At night sing them lullabies;
Put them to bed,
But when darkness spills in the unfinished cracks
The faces come hat in hand
In savage packs...
Punch drunk, and too dreary; I try and stay strong...
So easy to come to
Conclusions when wrong...
I must double back, and pick up on old trails...
One must shadow the heart
Through the gardens and shales...
Haven't got much but a sneaky suspicion...
These honeycomb walls have gone
Wet with attrition...
I sit with my glass gazing
Out at the stars...
The oil heavy canvas of night stretches far...
6/13/24
Bunny Villaire
Scar Baby
Bernard exhaled a sigh of relief as he gazed out his kitchenette window, smelling the Hazelnut coffee from his French Press wafting into the devilishly flared nostrils of new morning. He was so grateful for a day off from his shit factory job at Kwimbee's making various idiotic shapes of dough. The most nefarious of the shapes was an perky elfish creature that had an overtly phallic nose that protruded upward like an obscenely erect penis. Oddly, it was Kwimbee's best seller, so Bernard had to look at the insipid smile on the elfin face day after day. His working conditions were so overheated and cramped with the feel of imminent desth, that it felt like a well earned luxury being able to finally stumble around his house in a old ratty robe, cock out, and balls soft, watching his cat Yolanda lick her neglected crotch while purring in the sun that was tumbling in through the grimy kitchen windows. The plan was to rest, and exercise his weary body and really make shits bit of headway toward his ongoing attempts at Astral Projection. Bernard had picked up an intriguing New Age book from a pretentious head shop named Feu Follet that was entitled 'Astral Lovers'. Bernard had devoured the read; obsessed with the idea of meeting a eclectic woman from an alternate reality that was more spirit energy than flawed human flesh. Nevertheless, Bernard was slightly suspicious that the 'Astral Lovers' part was just accentuated to sell New Age books. Whether or not the spiritual girlfriend part was true, Bernard was still very intrigued with the idea of leaving his body and inheriting the idealized gift of absolute freedom. Almost every night he dreamed of flying above the houses of his block. He would admire the gardens with their wide assortments of Roses and Lilies. Sometimes Bernard would even dream that he was walking around inside the houses of a few of his neighbors.
Bernard was just about ready to find a comfortable supine position on his Yoga mat when he remembered he had to go to the bank. In a irritated huff, he pulled on his dirty grey work-out pants with the small tear on the left leg nearest to the knee, while he cursed to no one in particular that he had to leave the comfort of his own home. Snuffing his freshly lit incense into it's wooden tray; Bernard was about to grab his coat off the rack when his landlord Mr. Petrov walked in to the living room with Bernard's apartment key dangling in his tightly clutched hand. He looked sweatier and more desperate that usual. His eyes were shifty and he seemed to be breathing heavy as he eyed Bernard up and down with his usual manner of disdain.
"What do you need?, " Asked Bernard, with hardly a veiled display of annoyance and disgust. This had been Mr. Petrov's third time in one month that he had let himself in to Bernard's apartment, and the trend was getting real old real quick, especially because it meant that Bernard had to make contact with his slum-lord, when before Mr. Petrov was little more then a name on a sheet of paper.
"What do you need?, " Asked Bernard, with hardly a veiled r of annoyance and disgust. This had been Mr. Petrov's third time in one month that he had let himself in to Bernard's apartment, and the trend was getting old real quick, especially because it meant that Bernard had to make contact with his slum-lord, when before Mr. Petrov was little more then a name on a sheet of paper.d time in one month that he had let himself in to Bernard's apartment, and the trend was getting old real quick, especially because it meant that Bernard had to make contact with his slum-lord, when before Mr. Petrov was little more then a name on a sheet of paper.
"I need to get into the space inside your walk-in closet. I'll only be a couple minutes in there; ten minutes tops."
"Ok, but no funny business like last time when creepy crawlies in my shoes. Do your meat slapping in your own bathroom or bedroom like everyone else!"
Mr. Petrov rolled his eyes. The space that Mr. Petrov was referring to was the one and only area in the house that was sealed hermetically with a lock. Bernard always wondered about it's contents, thinking a few times of cutting the lock and perhaps restoring it with a similar looking piece of secure metal, but hadn't gotten to that stage yet. He was still in the head scratching pondering stage. Noticing the bulge in Mr. Petrov's leisure suit, Bernard nodded him on as he himself exited through an open window, closed it, and stood out on the damp metallic balcony that overlooked the backlot of the multi-dwelling unit (MDU). After a quick cigarette and a look-see at the beautiful sparkling city in the afternoon that lay sedated in spots under shadows and buildings; he descended down the fire escape like a swooping bat. There was some construction going on in the downstairs of the building where all the mailboxes were situated. Bernard could more than likely navigate this annoyance, but he just didn't want to communicate with anyone today; least of all his landlord. When Bernard's feet met the pavement he was back to his incognito persona again, ignoring the gaze of the other people, and looking for alleyways that kept him away from the daily throng as he hustled his ass to the bank.
Mr. Petrov rolled his eyes. The attic that Mr. Petrov was referring to was the one and only area in the house that was sealed hermitically with a lock. Bernard always wondered about it's contents, thinking a few times of cutting the lock and perhaps restoring it with a similar looking piece of secure metal, but hadn't gotten to that stage yet. He was still in the head scratching pondering stage. Noticing the bulge in Mr. Petrov's leisure suit, Bernard nodded him on as he himself exited through an open window, closed it, and stood out on the damp metallic balcony that overlooked the backlot of the multi-dwelling unit (MDU). After a quick cigarette and a look-see at the beautiful sparkling city in the afternoon that lay sedated in spots under shadows and buildings; he descended down the fire escape like a swooping bat. There was some construction going on in the downstairs of the building where all the mailboxes were situated. Bernard could more than likely navigate this annoyance, but he just didn't want to communicate with anyone today; least of all his landlord. When Bernard's feet met the pavement he was back to his incognito persona again, ignoring the gaze of the other people, and looking for alleyways that kept him away from the daily throng as he hustled his ass to the bank.
The attic that Mr. Petrov was referring to was the one and only area in the house that was sealed hermitically with a lock. Bernard always wondered about it's contents, thinking a few times of cutting the lock and perhaps restoring it with a similar looking piece of secure metal, but hadn't gotten to that stage yet. He was still in the head scratching pondering stage. Noticing the bulge in Mr. Petrov's leisure suit, Bernard nodded him on as he himself exited through an open window, closed it, and stood out on the damp metallic balcony that overlooked the backlot of the multi-dwelling unit (MDU). After a quick cigarette and a look-see at the beautiful sparkling city in the afternoon that lay sedated in spots under shadows and buildings; he descended down the fire escape like a swooping bat. There was some construction going on in the downstairs of the building where all the mailboxes were situated. Bernard could more than likely navigate this annoyance, but he just didn't want to communicate with anyone today; least of all his landlord. When Bernard's feet met the pavement he was back to his incognito persona again, ignoring the gaze of the other people, and looking for alleyways that kept him away from the daily throng as he hustled his ass to the bank. The attic that Mr. Petrov was referring to was the one and only area in the house that was sealed hermitically with a lock. Bernard always wondered about it's contents, thinking a few times of cutting the lock and perhaps restoring it with a similar looking piece of secure metal, but hadn't gotten to that stage yet. He was still in the head scratching pondering stage. Noticing the bulge in Mr. Petrov's leisure suit, Bernard nodded him on as he himself exited through an open window, closed it, and stood out on the damp metallic balcony that overlooked the backlot of the multi-dwelling unit (MDU). After a quick cigarette and a look-see at the beautiful sparkling city in the afternoon that lay sedated in spots under shadows and buildings; he descended down the fire escape like a swooping bat. There was some construction going on in the downstairs of the building where all the mailboxes were situated. Bernard could more than likely navigate this annoyance, but he just didn't want to communicate with anyone today; least of all his landlord. When Bernard's feet met the pavement he was back to his incognito persona again, ignoring the gaze of the other people, and looking for alleyways that kept him away from the daily throng as he hustled his ass to the bank.
At the bank lobby of the 1st Westside Metropolitan Bernard was instantly greeted by the cloyingly oppressive Teller and Security Guard that played the role of Ventriloquist and Dummy with their almost menacing twin pair of crocodile smiles. Like wind-up toys they came alive as soon as he stepped in the room. The blonde security guard was seated in a chair not far from the glass enclosed checkout station, and looked as if she might have been ten years younger than the Teller, but all her mannerisms suggested she was sprung from the same womb.
Security Guard: "Hi there! Thanks for coming to see us today! My goodness, it looks like such a peach of a day out there! Hey we had a bet, and we were hoping a nice fella like you could share the deets...is it mild out there or is it a bit windy? I'm going with windy 'cuz I see the trees shaking the leaves a bit out there, so I'm leaning towards the gust."
Teller: "Now Stacy, you are always jumping the gosh-darn gun! Why can't it be both? Why not mild and windy with a dash of the dreary? (Motioning toward the guard and winking) She's a real cut-up this one! No, seriously, sir, what's the weather like? You can be honest, don't try and spare our feelings."
"It's a bit chilly, " Bernard moved toward the teller, emptied his wallet of his ID and credit card to make all indication that he had no time for idle chit-chat and stared blankly at the Teller.
Teller: "Any plans for this weekend?"
Her eyes were flirtatious but filed down, like a pencil that had spent too long in the cave of the sharpener, plunged in darkness amongst the blades and the gears, and rarely seeing the light of day.
Security Guard: "We're heading down to HollowMan's Grove next to Bush Creek on Stapleton Drive tonight for Girl's Night! They got all night Karaoke starting at 9! Do you like Karaoke? My go to is always Madonna's 'Like a Virgin', but sometimes I do Patti Smith's 'Because the Night' if I'm feeling lonely. Betch'ya didn't peg me for a Patti Smith fan, but I'm pretty open-minded. I listen to just to about anything except Country, Rap, and Metal."
Bernard didn't turn his head to the security guard but he could feel her smile burning into his neck hairs. The Teller was still quite lovely in her mid fifties aside for some black splotches on her neck that only accented her almost reptilian persona. Her eyes glided over him like a frog slyly sizing up a juicy water beetle.
"Oh that's great...I hope you have a fun night..."
When Bernard finally made it back to the door of his apartment he was exhausted and his cheeks ached from trying to imitate the twin simian smiles of the two glad-handing ladies back at the bank. He twisted the doorknob to make sure it was latched but the door came open in his hands. Proceeding with caution, Bernhard shuffled into the darkened room. From the left and right two men pounced on him at once from opposite sides of him and flung him against the far left wall. One looked like a short, bald meatball with red blotchy spots all over his unhealthy skin. He was raw and muscular and looked like he could do a fair amount of damage. The other was stork like in stature with a drooping rat shaped nose and a baseball hat that said the Miami Marlins. Both looked deadly serious and ready to extract some information quick and painful like.
"Where's the goddamned money you stupid sonofabitch?"
Rat Man breathed heavy into Bernard's face, and Bernard could discern he just had a salami sandwich with a couple of Whiskey Sours for good measure.
"I don't know you two jokers from Adam!...What the Hell is going on?..."
For the first time Bernard noticed the crumpled heap of his landlord in the middle of the apartment living room. There were random red splotches that covered the hill of his body. His head looked like it had been done in proper with a couple of calculated rough kicks. The blood on the carpet was fresh, and it had only just begun to set in.
Meatball jammed his knee deep into Bernard's groin, and Rat Stork chopped him on the back of the head as he pitched forward in surprised pain. The darkness detonated through the tough shell of Bernard's skull like the messy ink from a squid. As Bernard collapsed downwards towards the floor he lost consciousness before his face hit the fast approaching catcher's mitt of the rug.
*
Where in the devil was he? The night breeze was at his neck, and Bernard heard night birds, and bats close at hand, a he dipped and swayed with the slightest of breezes. It took him a minute to decipher, but Bernard was flying over the sidewalk of his neighborhood! He was on a mission to find the small church on Locust street, and he was almost right above it. He had passed over two brown tiled roof tops, and then a house that was entirely covered in reflective metallic siding(though he saw no glimpse of his reflection), and then there he was! He could tell it was the church because of it's box shaped roof tops, except for one section that was spired over the front door. Bernard could see a multitude of stray cats milling around the front and the side of the church, snacking on the free cat food that was left out for them in a big ceramic blue bowl by the church's disguised side entrance that was almost entirely camouflaged by trees. Bernard could witness the snoozing birds in the branches of the tree snug in their feathers and huddled close together in their cleverly devised nests of feathers, straw and string as he slipped like a vapor, bypassing the structural limitations of the wood and slate of the church's crown. Passing through the ceiling of the church and finally landing on the floor, Bernard could see a group of people through the big glass windows, possibly of the A.A. group that had just exited the church only moments ago. They were smoking cigarettes and giving each other hugs as they slowly vanished one after another into the belly of the night. Bernard wondered why he had instinctually flown over to the Locust street church at midnight. It wasn't until he thoughtlessly fumbled under the bottom of the big table in the middle of the room, and selected with precision a taped key beneath it which he now cradled in his left hand that he realized that he had been Astral traveling this whole time! What a rush! In dumbstruck awe he walked around in the dark church and paused to touch paintings and a pencil that was resting on a podium at the far right corner of the large room populated mostly with empty wooden chairs. Now Bernard suddenly was feeling a tug that could only be his physical body calling his restless spirit body back home with an insistent sense of urgency. Bernard knew it was time to go, but wanted to make the moment last as long as humanly possible! My goodness, what a bizarre deck of cards he had been dealt down today! With key still pressed tightly in his firm grip, Bernard dashed back towards his apartment in the MDU like a skipped stone that was dancing across the surface of a lake after an expert toss by a clever and carefree child who had slipped out into the mysterious first glimmerings of twilight.
The End?
6/10/24
Bunny Villaire
(Edit #5)
There’s Nothing Quite Like Closing a Record Store At Night
There's nothing quite like closing a Record Store at night...
Serpentine streets sneak up on me from the brink...
Whale belly of the infinite rises and falls out of the mist!...
The Venus fly trap tomb of ancient rites
Decide the flight
Of festive witches overhead that balk as
Night hum haunts my head...
It's an exercise in sound and
Not unlike a dance unbound!...
There's nothing quite like closing a
Record Store at night...
It reminds me of my younger days
Where feet would spin 'til my own sight
Tumbled down beside itself in
Blundered glory without fight...
My brother and I would swim and
Scrape from spot to spot where
Windows gaped...
We'd pop into old buildings and we'd
Haunt them like a song
That arrives upon the chess board stage
Like an uninvited pawn...
We'd slide like needles through the
Cloth...
Our eyes on branches hung aloft...
There's nothing quite like closing a
Record Store at night!...
Hear the echoes of the ghost folk
In the faded moments call!...
The lovers and the others who have
Only memories...
We must not forget their service,
As they've gave us room to crawl!...
It is hard to touch on nerves when
We are out here skipping dreams
Down lakes of gold, as world's unfold
And sprites alight upon us...
No, there's nothing quite like closing a
Record Store at night!...
6/9/24
Bunny Villaire
Edit #3
Consumed By Love of Living Flame
Consumed by love of living flame...
The trail dissolved...
No tracks to name...
Your picture vanished from the frame...
Consumed as swiftly as we'd came...
Our flesh on flesh...all limbs entwined...
With hungry mouths we sixty-nine'd...
Your lush, and glorious juices ran
Like a sweet peach, as Spring began...
And as you cried out, reaching heights
Only theorized in long lapsed rites
I saw the clock just overhead
Turn back it's hands,
While in our bed
The blaze kicked up, and licked us
Clean...
Through fastened eyes you still were seen...
The dance was ours!...
Your view played mine!...
We ran with angels through night grass!...
Down rolling hills...unblemished skies...
One sight stretched far through pairs of eyes...
...And on our Dissolution Day
While darkness fell in wider holes,
And the thin thread that kept us bound
Began to split, as time unwound...
I grabbed for you among the drift
Of crashing waves, and hope so frail...
Each precious curve I turned to touch
Had all but vanished in our rush...
Consumed by love of living flame...
The trail dissolved...
No tracks to name...
Your picture vanished from the frame...
Consumed as swiftly as we came...
...As now I live amongst old stuff...
These remnants of a relished crush...
A chipped cup, statues cast adrift...
The pulse I long to heed has slipped
Into the throat of prominence...
I stand and wait beside my fence,
Until with effort I pass through
To seek the heart that I withdrew...
Bunny Villaire
6/5/24
Night Vision
Futzing round out in the dark…
Tripping wires,
And spilling ink…
Futzing round out in the dark…
Where elbows rap, and
Knees go clink…
Sweeping arms at what’s familiar…
I think I’ve seen your shape before!…
Feel so bold, I reach to hold
An inured fixture I recall…
Drawing close to check the status…
I view a fresh development…
Something wavy…asking questions…
Hanging by my advocate…
This new stink fills me with tremors!…
…Challenges my point of view
In this murky witch’s cauldron
I have met a bugaboo…
Futzing round out in the dark…
Tripping wires,
And spilling ink…
Futzing round out in the dark…
Where elbows rap, and
Knees go clink…
I’ve waited out my parking meter…
The climax of this hour is nye!…
Escape with style…I close the file…
None the wiser…All cards disguised…
At each backdrop that I have chosen
I can’t allow one thread to fall…
Must return where hearts are frozen…
To prop one ear against her wall…
She sees an in and throws a line out…
Red lips, and legs a mile long…
By calculation, I near her fireplace…
My blindness shifts to meet her law…
Futzing round out in the dark…
Tripping wires,
And spilling ink…
Futzing round out in the dark…
Where elbows rap, and
Knees go clink…
Bunny Villaire
6/1/24
Edit #2
This Perfect Day...
A day that lends itself,
And leans itself...
That hangs wide as an ancient barn door,
Creaking and kicking with the Nonchalant wind...
This carefree door allows in all the Sights unseen,
And I'm here standing next to it's entrance
Laughing hysterically because in the distance
I've discovered a series of rolling hills
Of possibilities spilling madly into
The unchecked horizon for miles...
The birds are singing and doing their mating rituals...
I'm hugging my wife's stimulating body close to mine,
And our four year old son is in tow,
And we're looking for fun
With our beaming bright faces like blossoming flowers...
We're really giving this day a full fledging pounce!...
Because we've got our antennae up,
And we've got our noses to the ground...
We are Inspectors of the ancient lost and found thread
Where the World's mysteries rear her head,
And the portals of Nature, and discreet subtleties unravel
Like a blindfold in the dark
When our hearts embark together, everything can,
And will happen...
A day that lends itself,
And leans itself...
That hangs wide as an ancient barn door...
These are the days I adore, and seek out...
Our collective light usurping any enemy or fiend
And shooting sparks as we stay lit like Roman candles...
My son's durable brown eyes probing me,
As he reaches out for his Mama like the sun embraces
The sky in a sunset
That rivals the decadence of Arizona sunsets
That paint pictures of the glories and enigmas
Of life atop the retina of the mind's eye...
Everyday I can spend with my wholesome family unit
Is like lifeblood that ignites the parched and barking pores...
I pray for days like these
Where we can come and go as we please,
Pleasing me to be inside and around the yawning
Grassy thatch that cradles and invites...
This spiritual force that makes us strong and state our case
The vibrant lawn embraces us with baste...
A gorgeous day of clouds sets in, and the universal righting of cosmic jousts
Will now commence!...
We kick our heels up and lay sprawled out in the outer
Reaches of pure love
Within a myriad of blissful things
From buzzing insects,
To reflective pools that help us recognize
The treasures buried in our own backyard,
And draw us out of flawed Impositions,
Whenever they crop up and cast their Serpentine shadows down the snaking Recesses of honey holes and vacant Untold hallways...
5/31/24
Bunny Villaire
Edit #2