Home » Poems » Lady Labyrinth » What Lesser Mortals

What Lesser Mortals


What lesser mortals? 

What lesser mortals
than Rimbaud
claim themselves 
a poet within 
another self, 
for there is more 
than just one self

depending on the
time and day 
and nothing 

is as it seems
at first, 
we are born 
from abstract 
firmament to the 
Infirmament

arriving 
planned and unplanned 
in the in-between

swaddled in skin, 
a nude shade of blue
turning pink 
and revolutionary
the most sincere
we've ever been

we are slapped to 
make loud noises
to prove we are alive;

we are small noises
for the most part 
of our continuum
as we evolve 
we reveal our 
true colours

our different dimensions
bleed like water pastels
we are shades 
and shadow of each, 
easily morphing into
the will of others

less than 
and more than likely
just to keep the peace
or challenge 
subterranean night crawlers
from their obligatory big sleep

silent scarabs 
black hats wearing 
white hats 
guarding gates
of ruined castles
like red caps

pacing the watchtowers
like laughing hyenas
for their better
bleached masters
who are small noises
for the most part

(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)









“As I was going down impassive Rivers,
I no longer felt myself guided by haulers:
Yelping redskins had taken them as targets
And had nailed them naked to colored stakes.

I was indifferent to all crews,
The bearer of Flemish wheat or English cottons
When with my haulers this uproar stopped
The Rivers let me go where I wanted.” 




“And from then on I bathed in the Poem
Of the Sea, infused with stars and lactescent,
Devouring the azure verses; where, like a pale elated
Piece of flotsam, a pensive drowned figure sometimes sinks”

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Frederic Parker

Date: 2/26/2023 12:17:00 PM

as the sands of time move in and out we dither on the shores of our garbage like seagulls fighting over what we have created, our thoughts tell us we are more than what we are for we claim wisdom learned, though our feet are planted firmly in the garden of our destruction where we become gluttons from the fruit we have grown

Lady Labyrinth
Date: 2/26/2023 12:23:00 PM

try Gaviscon....failing that a stiff toddy.

Frederic Parker

Date: 2/25/2023 7:32:00 PM

"if there be nothing new but that which is" there is nothing new under the sun, only that it has been discovered in a wilderness we have explored, we are like a grain of sand on a beach filled with sand, yet have convinced ourselves we are more then the grain of sand, we know very little, very little, like all things we too will be gone, but where or what?

Lady Labyrinth
Date: 2/25/2023 8:45:00 PM

The sands of time move in and out with the tide, to revisit other shores, some over and over again, perpetuating lessons, rebuilding sandcastles, and bringing messages, like the whispering ocean voice carrying secrets from seashells, the notes written in ancient languages in glass containers for translation. The sands of time wash in and out, the drag pulls the shoreline out from under our feet. And there we are in the swim of it all again...surfing, dumped, yet we get back up again, and again. Our choice. This freedom.

Frederic Parker

Date: 2/25/2023 1:58:00 PM

our own thoughts and emotions born in the never regions of the mind convince us we are more than the stuff we are made of which is the same stuff everything else is made of, nothing more, nothing less...more likely less

Lady Labyrinth
Date: 2/25/2023 3:01:00 PM

dust to dust...ashes are for anointing. Sonnet 106, but then again, I quite like this...55, and 59.