Phillipe

See? YOU know how I get when I'm with Mary Jane...

This is starting to look like a High Times column...

Thanks, luv.

Dang - there goes the coffee again!

Probably bonging someone else...

She IS a sweetheart, isn't she? I love giving her a roll...

LOL - you guys are quick studies.

Best Gal in the Joint I've known you for so long, Yet each time we meet you're a revelation. We were introduced by shared friends At a party during a long, hot summer. I'd heard about you, of course - You had a bad reputation. You'd been passed around by my friends And used by them. And yet - I couldn't resist you any longer. I had to at least try you out one time. You were just too seductive, too hot, Too sweet-smelling. I'd have prefered some privacy To get to know you properly But no - we had to embrace Before the entire room. I watched as one of my friends prepared you Gently wrapping you up like a present for me. He gave one last loving lick And then pushed you in front of me. I held you, oh so tenderly at first As I tried to light your fire With trembling hands, I succeeded And put my lips on you in heady anticipation I suckled at you, using only my fingertips To support your almost non-existent weight We spent several minutes locked together As I became intoxicated on your exotic airs All this time, you submitted to me totally If I had so desired, I could have passed you along To another, but I wanted you all to myself. Yes, my love - you were that good. But everything comes to an end And soon, you disappeared. I looked around, but you were gone Only your scent remaining. My head swam from you As the others laughed at me "Now you know!" they all said And I... I had fallen madly, insanely in love.

I'm sorry I'm only human too - I wanted to be a sulfur-crested cockatoo. Don't sweat it, sweetie - we're ALL only human. It's what makes us...human.

Or... My Cat Is Deadly A Philip Noir Detective Vignette The rain smashed into the office window like a puch-drunk welterweight, throwing it's mass against the fragile pane only to pause, catch its breath and then resume its attack. I pulled the Yellow Pages out from under the broken table leg, causing the entire table to lean crazily, like a dame that's had one too many martinis with her flower-club cronies. A balloon drifted indifferently past my open window, the office fan causing it to temporarily alter course and bob up and down like a duck with constipation. I tossed the empty office bottle into the waste bucket. Just another day shot, another bottle emptied. A swell dame came legs first into my office, trailing a scent of violets and wearing a hypnotic green ribbon around her pencil-slim throat. She was a green-eyed cat and I was the willing mouse...

green-eyed cat greets me table leg, broken, defeats me balloon will soar ribbon on floor bucket, turned over, does seat me

Thanks, Rev - you know that now I'm going to have to add YOU into one of my parodies. *humming to self* "Somewhere over Rev. Rainbow..."

I've spent a lot of time in a lot of places like that.

I've also learned that there's never an event so terrifying, an alien so scary or a solar system in such dire distress that there isn't time to flirt with a hot babe first.

James T. Kirk, that old spaceman jock Said to his friend Bones, the ship doc: "'Scuse me while I preen For that hottie who's green" But by then she had run off with Spock!

MAAAAAAAAaaannn, you are good. Thank you for posting these!

Wow - I hope you keep posting your work, because I think I've found a new teacher.

Star Trek taught me to never wear a red shirt when I beam down to the planet surface.

No, Tanka.

History has shown that the bigger (and thus more popular) the faith system the more cash inflow, thus easier survival of the faith. The longer you adhere to a belief the stronger it probably becomes, as long as you constantly test it in the real world. IMNSHO, not as important as some of the other guidelines. Being too intense can blind one to flaws that a less ardent practitioner might catch. That being said, one who only goes through the motions is shortchanging themselves.

Oddly enough, that one doesn't affect me on such a visceral level - maybe because I see a lot of myself in it.

You did all that and more, m'lady.

Poetry, like many other forms of writing, should be a tool not only for making one feel good, but also one for making one uncomfortable. If one is never uncomfortable, one will never seek to improve themselves by self-examination. Therefore, I thank you for making me uncomfortable, since it forces me to re-evaluate who and what I am and what I do.