PICKING IDEAS OFF THE GROUND
Lusting
Can the painting sing?
Then why not a heart?
Slamming in the stomach of discontent.
As the desire to caress
The point of views
Change within dusty minutes
Placing a lemon, sour
Where once was sweet.
Wrinkles tell tales
Wind carries names
And we, all set to become.
Can the painting sing?
Then why not a heart?
Slamming in the stomach of discontent.
As the desire to caress
The point of views
Change within dusty minutes
Placing a lemon, sour
Where once was sweet.
Wrinkles tell tales
Wind carries names
And we, all set to become.
Rebirth
Inclinations dictated by your temperature.
Discovering your vestige cast
In the cream of puristic pastels.
Worshiping your benediction.
Blossoming escapade, uncanny as the moon.
Celest!
The star, a guiding light.
Against the kisses of gooseflesh breaths.
Wash the spirit in the veneration
Of vernalization.
Inclinations dictated by your temperature.
Discovering your vestige cast
In the cream of puristic pastels.
Worshiping your benediction.
Blossoming escapade, uncanny as the moon.
Celest!
The star, a guiding light.
Against the kisses of gooseflesh breaths.
Wash the spirit in the veneration
Of vernalization.
Solstice
Juxtaposition of January
Resisting the new year like water.
Forlorn February falters,
As a muddled March begins.
Left to sip, chilled slop
Through skin stretching cold.
To sustain, while the sky
Stays as blank and dirty
As the roadway slush
September
Sun-line on trees waning
Shadow rising gently below.
Branches sway goodnight.
Sweeping breeze
Chill Setting in
Subduing their heart's warmth
Of Summer.
Congealing sap
Once free dripping
Sunlight
Tints leaves
Foretelling golden sleep.
Asperity of Evanescence
It hurts to kill.
Even though it is dispatched with purpose.
Carrying the mightiest
In our peaceful palms.
Modern conflicts leave to no comfort
For antiquity.
Fortified by the novel.
Engagements are settled briskly.
Today, assassination is performed by
The press of a button.
Click, click, executed.
Dismissed, defeated, destroyed.
Order brought to the intangible mass.
All antagonists are slaughtered.
In the exploits of accomplishment.
Walking the scene of contention
Celebrate victory by
Soaking fingers into the blood
Of the expunged.
Spread their ink across the eyes
Scream the war-cry for redemption.
Prepare for the next struggle.
Because there is no piece for a poet.
Gather the wounded.
Smear their holes with a salve
Rich in adjectives.
Wrap them in the pages of a thesaurus.
Healing scars will prove the purifying process
Of editing.
Reception
You are a newborn poet.
Welcome to the world.
Fresh and uncertain
You require time to grow.
Find nourishment
Through the poems of others.
Marinate in their milk.
Let it absorb and
Guide you as you
develop your own
Voice.
Always be courageous.
Don't ever become complacent.
Writing and dreaming are living.
Learn to control.
Maintain the path
That rests between shit
And gold.
Understand your Muse.
On this you can flourish.
Consume it, to make it
Your own.
POET
Carry this brand
Within your hand.
Hold fast the pen.
Never let go!
Continue to scribe your song.
As long as you write,
You're never wrong.
Muse
The sadistic Matrix.
The aroma after the strike.
My Hell-Cat of fury
Who forces the pen.
My medley
Of torment and pleasure.
And I beg for more.
She speaks to me at night.
The perpetual pushing
Permanent.
Ingrained, Engraved, Inside.
The story is my Sabbath.
The paper and pen, my communion.
I call myself a writer
But only others
Can call me
A poet.
A title that must be earned.
The sadistic Matrix.
The aroma after the strike.
My Hell-Cat of fury
Who forces the pen.
My medley
Of torment and pleasure.
And I beg for more.
She speaks to me at night.
The perpetual pushing
Permanent.
Ingrained, Engraved, Inside.
The story is my Sabbath.
The paper and pen, my communion.
I call myself a writer
But only others
Can call me
A poet.
A title that must be earned.
UNTITLED
The blood and the loss
Of the everyday
Makes me want to vomit.
I wish you could too.
Simply purge yourself
Of the pandemic.
Confusion and fear
Just so we could sow.
Exist in the moment.
The moment
And the unattainable.
The blood and the loss
Of the everyday
Makes me want to vomit.
I wish you could too.
Simply purge yourself
Of the pandemic.
Confusion and fear
Just so we could sow.
Exist in the moment.
The moment
And the unattainable.
What's It Like?
Tightening a clamp
That is already closed.
With red eyes weary
And knowing the night
The shift bids again.
Into a sacred sanctum
A lunar loft.
Melodic melodies strengthen
Open locks
That lead to puzzles.
Under cerebral cracking
A rising from the pit.
Tightening a clamp
That is already closed.
With red eyes weary
And knowing the night
The shift bids again.
Into a sacred sanctum
A lunar loft.
Melodic melodies strengthen
Open locks
That lead to puzzles.
Under cerebral cracking
A rising from the pit.
Seasonal Effective Disorderly Writing
I am an old soul.
I watch late in the day.
I feel my body breaking.
The clouds race across the sky.
The stars peek out only to hide again.
The hair on my face has grown long.
Emotions disintegrate in my sight.
Temporary ink on futile paper
Runs refusing to absorb.
I am losing touch with the eternal song.
I am on a path into dark woods.
I am constantly cold.
I am an old soul.
I watch late in the day.
I feel my body breaking.
The clouds race across the sky.
The stars peek out only to hide again.
The hair on my face has grown long.
Emotions disintegrate in my sight.
Temporary ink on futile paper
Runs refusing to absorb.
I am losing touch with the eternal song.
I am on a path into dark woods.
I am constantly cold.
A Warning
Take shelter my friend!
And make sure that you are
Awake.
BEWARE!
The poets are gathering
And they travel in their Sleep.
Reciting lines of Rhetoric
That they refuse to keep.
An odd collection they are
Crucified,
Brilliant,
Damaged,
Luminescent.
Who share beyond
Their ideals.
If you find yourself
Breaking words with these
Shepard's of Emotion
Be sure to keep
Your mind and tongue.
They are those who Dare
To rouse, the sleeping.
Poking and prodding it
Until it complains.
Stealing its streams of golden
Truth.
To then lay them out
Bare
And shared with strangers.
The naked word
In an orgy of Ideas.
They present truth
Without judgment.
And this is meant to lure
You in.
The rhyming siren wails
Ripping the aorta.
To an acrid and saccharine terrain
Become the metamorphosed.
Here there are no more
Clouds, or stars, or moon.
Instead
Lofty billows among allotrope
And a singing loon.
I could never tolerate it any other way.
Take shelter my friend!
And make sure that you are
Awake.
BEWARE!
The poets are gathering
And they travel in their Sleep.
Reciting lines of Rhetoric
That they refuse to keep.
An odd collection they are
Crucified,
Brilliant,
Damaged,
Luminescent.
Who share beyond
Their ideals.
If you find yourself
Breaking words with these
Shepard's of Emotion
Be sure to keep
Your mind and tongue.
They are those who Dare
To rouse, the sleeping.
Poking and prodding it
Until it complains.
Stealing its streams of golden
Truth.
To then lay them out
Bare
And shared with strangers.
The naked word
In an orgy of Ideas.
They present truth
Without judgment.
And this is meant to lure
You in.
The rhyming siren wails
Ripping the aorta.
To an acrid and saccharine terrain
Become the metamorphosed.
Here there are no more
Clouds, or stars, or moon.
Instead
Lofty billows among allotrope
And a singing loon.
I could never tolerate it any other way.
The Process
A man walked down a path.
Or perhaps he strode.
I am not sure.
Maybe he rode.
What if it was not a path?
It could have been a trail
Or a rail.
Where was it that he traveled?
Maybe a pass
I do not know.
Perhaps it was even a lane.
Was it even a man?
A mortal?
A mac?
A hack?
It could have been a butch or a bloke.
What is it that he saw?
A bee?
A key?
A sea?
A tree?
A wee-little elephant drinking some tea!
Or was it me.
A man walked down a path.
Or perhaps he strode.
I am not sure.
Maybe he rode.
What if it was not a path?
It could have been a trail
Or a rail.
Where was it that he traveled?
Maybe a pass
I do not know.
Perhaps it was even a lane.
Was it even a man?
A mortal?
A mac?
A hack?
It could have been a butch or a bloke.
What is it that he saw?
A bee?
A key?
A sea?
A tree?
A wee-little elephant drinking some tea!
Or was it me.
Forfeit
I admit my life’s total delusion.
Place my mind into seclusion.
The time has come to pick up the tab
Lick the wounds and scratch the scab.
Lies were truths and truths were lies
Reality wore a dream disguise.
Forced to sit and drowned in drink
The empty glass makes me think.
Words left to chew upon my mind
Echo through my skull all the time.
Every day I caress the scar
Remember words you’ll go far.
Faded eyes drop a tear
Dream-ship wrecked by simple fear.
I will drink and wait out the day
Until it all just goes away.
I admit my life’s total delusion.
Place my mind into seclusion.
The time has come to pick up the tab
Lick the wounds and scratch the scab.
Lies were truths and truths were lies
Reality wore a dream disguise.
Forced to sit and drowned in drink
The empty glass makes me think.
Words left to chew upon my mind
Echo through my skull all the time.
Every day I caress the scar
Remember words you’ll go far.
Faded eyes drop a tear
Dream-ship wrecked by simple fear.
I will drink and wait out the day
Until it all just goes away.
A.D.D.
Refusing to retain
In order
Instead vacuum
All around.
Collecting in the brain.
Swirling in agony.
As perfect chaos.
The mis-structure
Can cause pain.
Being different
And separate.
Definitely not temperate!
However
There are joys
That are found.
Realization and emotion
In every sound.
Unlike the normal
Mired in the ground.
Working hard.
Making yourself usual.
To accomplish
The expected.
Once it is achieved
It happens again..........
“Ooo Look, something shiny!”
Refusing to retain
In order
Instead vacuum
All around.
Collecting in the brain.
Swirling in agony.
As perfect chaos.
The mis-structure
Can cause pain.
Being different
And separate.
Definitely not temperate!
However
There are joys
That are found.
Realization and emotion
In every sound.
Unlike the normal
Mired in the ground.
Working hard.
Making yourself usual.
To accomplish
The expected.
Once it is achieved
It happens again..........
“Ooo Look, something shiny!”
O'Lunney's 45th
Bound muscles flux.
The clement flush of a drink.
The peace of a laughing crowd.
Music cheerfully wafts, the rafters.
A chill peals the atmosphere
From an unfolded door.
Carved wood adorns.
A vodka martini
Plays the key.
It unlocks the gate.
Allows me to see
Truth and People
Shells stripped away.
Alcohol brings truth
In an sobering way.
Bound muscles flux.
The clement flush of a drink.
The peace of a laughing crowd.
Music cheerfully wafts, the rafters.
A chill peals the atmosphere
From an unfolded door.
Carved wood adorns.
A vodka martini
Plays the key.
It unlocks the gate.
Allows me to see
Truth and People
Shells stripped away.
Alcohol brings truth
In an sobering way.
There is more too come!!!