Poems on this page.

  1. Russian Women.
  2. Chinese Women.
  3. Badness in the City.
  4. My Love is Free.
  5. Mathematically speaking.
  6. Cyber Brain.
  7. Reoccurring Dreams.
  8. You and me.

Russian Women

 Russian women of the Ob.
Parlay Francais in the border ring.
Write a character of disorder.
Look for future kindly mortar.

Russian women on the Ob,
cash box or vote box, ballot ring.
Hang my dynasty on the call.
The count is in the choice is small.

Chinese Women

Chinese women in the hills.
Yangsee waters and Ming pills.
Recall your vows
in the church of the Kings.

Chinese women in your home.
Life giving but silent phone.
Chang voices and Mao’s book,
the phone number and the server shook.

Badness in the City

We need the crazy
to keep you at work.
Threatening your lifestyle,
by being such a jerk.

Sure I am singing nonsense,
about being on the street.
Working and retiring early
was never so neat.

A job to fall back on,
when your being harassed.
You have never had a girl friend,
but the lovers change fast.

The bad men who are drinking
are worse than the freaks.
But when the law comes
they all go free.

There’s been peace in my life,
until I played this song.
I used to write programs,
now I listen to gongs.

You said you had free advice,
but the singer says no.
Your looking for chicks,
but what do you know?

My Love is Free

I do not want you to go.
I do not want you to go.
I need you here in my home.
I need you in my home.

I always love you.
I always will.

Baby you are gone
in a blinking day.
Baby you are away
up the frost hill.
Baby you are still
in the frozen ground.
Baby your heart pounds
up in my ear.

I don't want another women.
I don't want another women.
I need you girl.
I need you girl.
I need you now your grown.

I always love you.
I always will.

Baby open that love
in my soul.
Baby change that coal
to warm me.
Baby let love be
what is in my dream.
Baby do not be mean.
Let our hearts heal.

I want your love back.
I want your love back.
I hold the door open.
For our love is broken.

You walked with me.
But my love is free.

Mathematically speaking.

Learning tradition
and solving self esteem.
Proving nothing and all,
but the boss is mean.

Choosing is true,
but benefits are goods.
Adding it up and seeing...
I can't go down to the woods.

Typing and spelling,
and pushing buttons,
it's a silent solution,
for Miss Sutton.

All this action measured,
and noted to move,
in keeping us apart,
the numbers will prove.

Ethics seem right,
and in cases they're true,
but blinders I wear,
in this populated view.

Now we have five,
but we must have six.
So I'll flow with my pen,
but not hit with sticks.

Cyber Brain

Relaxing in cyberspace,
not sure whom to trust.
My chips are edible;
my computer will rust.

My synapses fire and I see
the infinite possibility.
I focus and stretch my body,
getting caught up in psychology.

I command one machine,
and coffee and cigarettes.
I inhale and soon,
my memories are silhouettes.

Proving my keys work and,
pushing forward in my chair.
My typing is my pride,
and reading it again is fair.

Reoccurring Dreams

I write them down in the morning.
I see it as an opposite of boring.
This free entertainment.
This method of fiction.
Of course it doesn't write a story.
It curves space and is gory.
My real life reflected in vision.
And always a car that I can't drive.
It goes out of control.
A lazy dreamy life on the dole.
I would rather have the rare dreams of cycling,
Which is how I myself drive.
But no this reoccurring car dream.
In the morning I'll drink coffee and cream.
And always a house,
where something happens in the dream.
And a house that was once my real setting.
My real life: dice without real betting.

You and Me

Your heart beats a song.
I love you in sound.
I hear your soul.
Your tounge screams.

I love you more.
Your fingers on the fretboard move.
I fall in love more.
Your truth is my mood.

I feel afriad of death.
Your breath is dancing.
I hear your durge.
Your place in days.

Your life is living.
I am working a little.
Your truth is love.
I find you I like.

My heart is yours.
You see my hair is yellow.
My eyes see the yolk.
You see I am yours.

Copy right by Peter Timusk
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