The wheel of time churns the disarray dust,
settling on the unstable shelf of my lonesome life.
In the maiming moments of painful perturbation,
truth crumbles in the cauldron of confusion chaos.
My detached mind learns to emotionally disconnect,
cultivates the aspirant ability to evade attachment.
Repulsion frees me from the bond of attraction,
acerbic aversion forms within me a citadel of apathy.
As hard times strikes my private space
the boundless walls of the castle, seemingly impassable,
foil the foray of the outer world to my inner sanctum,
a cocoon of imposed isolation in blissful insulation.
I become a lone prisoner of my making,
captive behind the sensual walls of volatile pride,
find people disappear like mist beyond the horizon,
snap the unseen interaction cords of understanding.
When time comes to travel to the twilight zone,
the instinct of self-preservation dwindles in debris,
the walls collapse with the shattered senile senses,
getting buried in the wreckage of the broken antenna.
think …
of the abyss …
unimaginably, unbearably cold
pressure that turns bones (and flesh) to vapor
eight tons - sixteen thousand pounds - per
each … square … inch …
a darkness quite unforgiving -
blacker than black
and yet …
LIFE …
burgeons in multitudes
otherworldly creatures that create their
own light in rhythmic patterns
fantastic organisms that
are so strange and striking they look alien
such an inhospitable world
yet things thrive …
I …
am such an abyss
intensely cold
a darkness beyond black
deep and desolate and bleak
compressed by encumbrance and a disquiet
that can turn bone to vapors …
pain that has no nerve
unbearable wretchedness … without origin
acerbic tears that do not drip -
they burn … and fester
but …
things live
odd creatures exist here -
freakish beasts of indeterminate shape and ire
that feed on joy … and purpose
they crawl and creep
and shiver …
and wait.
2026-02-12 Write A Beautiful Carpe Diem Poem — Sponsored by Constance La France
I have a butcher’s at sunlight on skin,
warm, tremulous, yet coolly indifferent.
A sparrow scuttles across sodden turf;
its head inclined, inquisitive, keen—
I smile, imagining its quiet thought,
a tiny philosopher of morning light.
The wind threads through skeletal, bare branches,
stirring peat, drizzle, and smoke from hearths afar.
I inhale—letting it suffuse my lungs,
a private liturgy pressed to my heart.
Time traverses my fingers, soft at first,
like river water shaping unseen stone,
then quickens—sharp, insistent in its beat,
resonant within the hollows of my chest.
I taste the acerbic tang of fallen berries,
feel loam yield beneath soles and marrow deep,
and in this fractured, ephemeral morning,
I recognise the miracle not quite mine:
all of this—fleeting, exact, and unbidden—
asserts its plenitude; I am suffused.
Come admiration in lush
The pleasure that make you blush
Of becoming dear to your crush
I need to talk to you
It signals the pit to woo
Which one endlessly pursue
J wish this is to Him your mind
The pleasure breed loyalty to find
No bluff in the faith admired
Think of the panic
That gives in without manic
Even not minding how acerbic
Toast His distress
The holy protection on the cross
That delivers your peace
The deep breath
Which activates salvation's birth
Via his brutal death
What is right
Easy but seems tight
Earn never without fight
Who live without life
Jesus' salvage cum strife
Thrive not without thinking afterlife
He is the way
On which you find brae
Follow on cum grey
He gave out His best
Fight and beat your chest
To never rest till you rest
For there will be no grace
After the earth's race
Hugged by your own trace
bitter
acerbic, unpleasant
sneering, alarming, unwelcoming
acidulent, caustic, saccharine, confection
tasting, appreciating, fancying
pleasing, tasty
sweet
The muddy water creek-ing along pines
meandering, windless scene
absurd, acerbic, honed.
The itch to love
and satiate pride
swallowed too long stifles
breath
without emancipation
A tragic capitulation to self
Pride, perhaps acerbic,
leaves morsels to ruminate
and loves to regurgitate
coy ceramic dalliances
and Venusian masquerades
Masked in smiles
And toxic
This love,
These loose granite memories
Ductile innocents
And hasty lulls
These shining sunsets
And supernovas
Must rest.
Unleash death in all its glory...
Let it bound with clear intent.
To mock my last sup at Nature's passions
With some acerbic argument.
Let it make a case for time immortal
To prison me away
And release me from this wild ride
To send me to my grave.
But who made it judge and jury
And butcher in its lies?
What power thee... was meant to be
To find sweet bliss in my demise.
But if death's desolation is my future
And animus its goal.
I will resist until... it breaks my will
And I'm forced to pay the toll.
The End
the unforgiven are those who reside
in the bliss of resentment
decades can pass and yet
they return to the repetitive accusation
the wind at the door
that never changes its tune
the one the garden rejoices in
when it leaves
the one in the furrows of the brain
where expectations run rampant
in possession of self-delusions
this is how existence should be
forgive, forget, and move on
are steps in the furrows
to heal that within
we learned that long ago from a cross
we were not meant to bear it
we were taught to conquer it
this is lost on the unforgiven
failing to forgive the reflection
where expectations birth resentments
decades devoted to the failure of both
the acerbic conversations of the unforgiven
are the entertainment of misery
for the emancipated who let God deal with it
Oregon 8/23
I will always wonder what sort of love we had.
I was naive and blindly infatuated.
You were seventeen years older than I, and sad.
From the beginning our shaky love was fated.
We had met and I fell, but patiently waited,
a fact for which both of our families were glad.
Even though we spoke with words insinuated,
I will always wonder what sort of love we had.
I wonder if we were a curious dyad.
Was this acerbic love become hate belated?
Only God will decide if this is good or bad.
I was naive and blindly infatuated.
Love faded rapidly after we had dated.
I wondered if I should remain calm or be mad,
I questioned guilty feelings that were created.
You were seventeen years older than I, and sad.
You were time-worn, emotionally armor-clad.
I understand now you would never be sated.
You bore the spirit of an unsettled nomad,
from the beginning our shaky love was fated.
Achingly romantic dreams I had created,
a basis for lifetime togetherness’ launchpad.
Alas, I have become confused and frustrated.
Tomorrow, in a renewed search for Galahad,
I will always wonder.
James Gilray a characterist
with acerbic comment oft did persist
Dubbed the father of polticised cartoon
famous now for many a lampoon
SUBJECTION
interpretation
of
remorse
with
sheer visual
power
described
fluently
evolution
exploded
fascination
subverting
the tradition
combines
the swiftness
with the
completeness of
the reminiscent
&
utterly aware
incidental
&
imaginary
idiom
developed
in
a powerful
line
abstracted
encouraged
to cope
out of sight
in
a
parallel
virtual
nowhere
suppressing
the acerbic
aspect
in a
gathering
of
affectations
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
The changing colors of my mind
at times are disconcerting
wild crimson rage is often there;
along with raw chartreuse;
with its green, bitter tones of jealousy.
Some days, in hidden corners
of isolated lonely
dark brown caves
chanting monks in saffron robes
will meditate deep blue dreams.
Then rapidly dissipate
when watermelon heads explode
to songs of Tangerine Dream.
Vivid acid lemon;
always lurking;
acerbic, sneaky, spiteful
ready to explode,
destroying ever cooling, calm coral.
All soon replaced with moody;
dark,
desperate,
black.
But all these fighting tangled colors
messing in my head,
I prefer
to a boring,
dead,
dull gray.
enter the wood, end of the day
deep deep reverb, everywhere
eerie sound from between the trees
from bowels of earth, around the sky
then chilling stillness, flee or stay?
thump thump! disturb the very air
flurried dance, the following breeze
as yowls of mirth personify
monsters lurk and skulk, hide away
blink blink, acerbic scary stare
belly scales grow knobbly knees
fat jowls of girth, the fleshy eye
children scamper, fierce games they play
beat beat, why curb their merry dare ?
carefree clamber through ill-at-ease
with howls of worth they yelp and cry
fungi feast while dank leaves decay
sleep sleep superb in fairy lair
life poking head, no guarantees
where scowls give birth, when dreams do die
look up beyond where branches sway
squeak squeak perturb the glary glare
past hazy stars, the " Pleiades "
night ghouls of dearth by radar fly
I smiled when the betrayal came
Across your face, the leering burst
As quickly as I said her name
Coldly, knowing she's not the first
You wooed me, once, with your sweet talk
But now you speak of chains and locks
Acerbic tears hollowed my trust
Our love lost in castles of rust
She's not the first; I coldly smiled
When the betrayal came, knowing
Her name, I said as quickly as
The leering burst across your face
So be free - once I take my due
She's welcome to what's left of you
9/28/20
"Charonnet" contest
Sponsor: Charles Messina
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