Paul Moosberg Poems

I’ve got a jingle in my jangle here at Christmas
As my smile runs for miles round to see
I’ve got a jingle in my jangle here at Christmas
As I’m running round to show my Christmas glee
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There’s a poem I want to write
That can’t ever be written
And every time it is in sight
It can’t be seen or smitten
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A single bullet can direct; while it revolves into object
But missiles don’t seem to reflect; the revolutions that effect

Now make the missile spin around, and roll it bout faster than sound
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The last and vast digits of change start to run
In groups it loops seven nine seven one one
The nines can shine that an off pattern is spun
In groups of troops between nine and seven’s son
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Take a look into the light
Within shadows of the night
Cross your eyes and cover one
Sharpened circles have begun
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How true in all time, good people can’t see
How true and sublime, their good could just be
How true in life’s grime, good people agree
How true with their chime, they sing of happy
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Ridiculous redundancies
Here and there and there
So I see them all the time
They’re spawning everywhere
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I spent one day thinking in squares
With roots that times across in pairs
I saw as new pattern declares
Then it was shown within these squares
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I aspire to respire
When my wife’s driving the car
And the lane shouldn’t be shifting
So I scream with panicked scar
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It
Comes to start with, black in heart then
Light will shout the, world comes out light’s
All around the, gold is found to
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