Is it enough, the constant
Abuse of words homeward
On all mind and attackers if better
The worthing of my sleepy eyelids
Shantee dwelled eyelids
Of humans assembled against that I alone
Creating terror in silence
Witness criminology from affronted dishonor
Boundary as military parallel and in stilled eye single remorse I'll not review in news
Years begat war none speak of the front lines
All will myself lonely into the trench
As yesterday you will wake up tomorrow forgotten of being past the freedom of a single vote, literally, in time
homeless hopeless men
Jesus appears in others…
light in many forms
(“Enemy of the State Merit Badge”, 2011, original oil)
In The Morning
In the morning the house smells
Of the sandalwood scented candle
I burned all night
In honor of a slain patriot.
I wake heart still heavy
And it just gets heavier
When the news keeps coming in
Of how much his enemies despised him
And how they gleefully celebrate now.
It’s odd to think of sane people celebrating
The murder of a kind and just and righteous,
And may I say, pure soul.
It just goes to show where their hearts are
And where they are not.
Morning dawns on a new day
As hundreds of millions of Americans wake up
To what is now an openly declared war
Between good and evil, liberty and tyranny.
And somehow it feels like 1775
All over again.
(9/11/25)
But yes, I tell my muse, we will be together until the end
She is relieved, having spent so much time fixing me
Correcting me, inspecting me, subjecting me to her will.
I am seventy-three as of yesterday, so I know she was worried.
Wondering if I was done; I am not seasoned, I am old.
I refuse to admit this, dying my hair burgundy, wearing go-go boots.
Poetry is my fourth hobby, but it is a part of my soul now.
My self-inflicted goal is ten poems a day.
I have been able to meet this goal for five years now.
But yes, I say to my muse. No worries.
You will be with me until my hands and head no longer move
And my brain figures out where we go after this earth life.
Take initiative go to the light where the force of darkness ends
A flame needs its kindled source as a sparking awareness mends
Our enlightened energy wrapped in an array of cavernous colors
Ribboned radiant impressions given in vast deepest depths squalors
A shadow self may live dormant and await unveiling the chaos within
When it has become an unbearable journey to live in your own skin
Opaque indigo stones skim over shallow waters in an empty well
Stratas rock labyrinths chiseled lies of neglect in a nautilus shell
Warm sorrel ribbon evokes sympathy in a disparaged tale of woe
A sorbet of violet, green, and tangerine conjure a melodious flow
What is truly a wellspring of a healing rainbow palette renders
We find the key to unlocking magic embers in dormant chambers
Dank darkness may lead us astray from individuality and truth
Take initiative, find the light of all brightest light reaching for you
The cathedral was still lit late at night
dance music played faintly t
the drapes waved gently
the feet spun and floated
the silhouette danced gracefully
the silhouette grabbed a hand and spun
the silhouette spun in love late at night
the silhouette was alone
there was no hand to hold
there was no body to spin it in the air
but the music still hummed softly
the silhouette left
the silhouette let go of its grip.
If it's a harbor at the end of the beach
then just say my name in a whisper
like a boat going back and forth
within its sturdy walls
And if it's a house
then the door is cracked
even though it's battered by the wind
There's no hot tea there
let alone the lonely flower of eternity
only soft eyes that feel different
No, not because everything has faded
but simply because it's over
this body still exists amidst the dusty walls
and you just need to speak
And if everything is gone
conveyed in the coldness of your low voice
then never close that door
let the dust continue to seep in between the cracks
and everything will fade
but not all the stories
that you whispered in the dim emptiness
sometimes i fantasize about
driving on the highway
going eighty
and swerving into oncoming traffic
will that make the hurting stop?
walking somewhere
alone in the dark
and getting cornered by a murderer
will that make the hurting stop?
being home alone
door bursts open
an intruder with a gun pointed right at me
aimed right at my head
will that make the hurting stop?
the medicine cabinet torn apart
four pill bottles scattered around me
all once full
now empty
will that make the hurting stop?
a blade in my hand, pressed to my wrist
finally brave enough
to go deeper than just the surface
will that make the hurting stop?
going to bed one night
head laid on my tear-stained pillow
and never waking up again
will that make the hurting stop?
will the hurting ever stop?
or am i destined to live like this forever?
i'm not even living anymore
i'm just surviving
barely surviving
against my own will
Some stories are said
to belong to the wise
to men who have lived long
and know age inside out.
But my mother’s story
is not bound to sages
it can be told by anyone
who ever saw her light.
She lived a life
not made for applause
but etched in undying strength
written on leaves of resilience.
She fought her illness so long
that time itself grew weary
and though her body yielded
her spirit remained unbroken.
On her deathbed she prayed
her voice was as calm as a flow downhill
Even as her last breath left
she smiled like she is not bothered by death
The sun caressing our skin
summer days come to an abrupt end
~ lingering sweetness turning to memories
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Who would've thought he'd have so few days,
when they'd heaped on him all of God's praise.
For this then, they said, he'd been saved,
though they all knew he was depraved.
The Lord works in mysterious ways.
flowers came today
my heart caressed each petal
my brain threw them out
Always remember to pack the essentials,
Bat, Bottle, Bag, Boots,
Cut down anyone who tries to get in the way,
Don't look them in the eye, it only makes it harder,
Enemy, everyone is the enemy, yes, even them,
Find what you can, anything, you'll need it later,
Get up, you don't have time to rest, not yet,
How have you survived this long?
Imagine a better world, running water, safety,
Jokes are the only thing keeping you going,
Kill or be killed, even when its all over,
Like an animal, lose yourself in the fray,
Most of them aren't even people anymore,
Notice how they don't look you in the eye,
Only you are left, Only you can rescue them,
Persevere, soon it'll all be back to normal.
Quick, you have to run, to escape,
Run, run, doesn't matter to where or why,
Stop and you are dead, run, run,
Today is the day, its all over, you can't escape-
Unless you remember the ABCs,
Very good, recall everything I've taught you,
When the end finally comes and its all over,
Xenial little thing you are, listening to me.
You will be safe from the onslaught,
Zealot of the new world order.
What Coming?
I can’t believe this world. Everything has changed. Why?
Just bad news from every media. Wars, catastrophes, death.
Unbelievable, the people. They don’t care about the negative things.
They live in their happy weekdays. Blindness is the ruler.
Day to day, week to week, more and more, the horror from the news.
People can stop everything. Only together. But how? Hmm. How?
Nobody sees the crisis. Hmm. Oh, happy weekdays and noisy weekends.
People love it. Barbecue, drink, party, night desire. Yeah, this is the present of humanity.
What about the future? What?
They don’t care.
Coming the last time.
End.
The sun will sleep.
Dark clouds in the sky.
The swallow has gone,
Flown away, so has its mellow song
And so forth we go,
into bluer skies—indigo
Tempts drift further till tepid
Southern shades should not bid
Amid its alibi is incidence,
sun shrinks in appearance
Grayest shadows deepen
The first cool breezeway creeps in
Much warmth shall be ebbing,
heralding winter's woolen webbing
I count my blessings
of summer’s endings:
Abundance of sunshine so bright
Zephyrs on a tender August night
Book clubbing with best of friends,
Labor Day weekend marks summer’s end
As Summer ends Fall shall begin,
and what joyful gifts a winding wind
against glistening skin
Autumns kiss of this kind,
an earthly bliss entwined
And when the swallow returns,
no longer summer yearns
no longer summer yearns
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