Raymond Jimison Poems

The Benz won't start,
the regime fees are due,
the markets are down,
and the jeweler's gonna sue.
...

We write of sophistry, hegemony, and things that go bump in the night.
There's sullen mumbles and angry grumbles and turning toward the light.
But, editors slash and turn into trash, works we know are fine.
Screaming, 'This can't have worth or be held dear...it rhymes! '
...

It's dark, beyond black.
A warm breeze drifts in.

Sparks crackle as senses mass at the gate.
...

The hot sun brings forth her generous bounty.
And, as the warm rains give us so much,
her winds caress us with such a gentle touch.
...

We got jewelry in the attic.
We got diamonds in the ground.
We got perverts in the park.
We a nice little town.
...

(Apologies to Mr. Poe)

Once upon a hillclimb weary, as I pondered speed and gearing,
over a pained and worrisome saddle sore.
...

Pete and Gladys were a sight to see.
In their raccoon coats...the bee's knees.
She danced the black bottom, he played trombone.
They were meant for each other, how their light shone.
...

The shadow comes, a ghostly shade of pale.
There's a darkness close behind,
where gentle spirits will prevail.
...

Age has no value in merit or worth.
Mortality does not in time lie.
...

I am ashamed.

Those I chose to do my bidding
Have wasted days posing and flitting.
...