(Dark Pool of Light, 2011 original oil)
Acid and Alkali Dreams
Two sides
Of the same coin
Through different filters
Day and night
Pure and adulterated
Sweet and sour
Slippery and sharp
Regular and extra-ordinary
Working together
To keep the balance
By keeping us always
A little off
Neither this nor that
Always some doubt
On the spectrum of possibility
Dancing with the Moonlit Knight
This bittersweet
Specter
Of day
(11/28/23)
He sat in the dark
watched the last wood
flicker off into ash
his adulterated thoughts
swayed back in times
He had just taken a meal
the first and last in the day
cooked in the smokey room
but it satisfied him
not enough to clear his thoughts
Tommorrow would soon come
and his plans were planned
he had no authority
other than take orders
from a boss in a mess
His boss shouted
clean, wash, mend and watch
he had no one to tell
that he was human enough
and he wanted love
The girl he had seen
had melted his heart
she had a heart of gold
and managed to wave at him
but he feared his uncertainty
would he find love?
in the girl he had seen
would the world understand?
that beyond his duty as a servant
was a boy turned man?
who needed love and trust.
He walked in the dark
searched his beddings in the dark
spoke to himself in the dark
life has no balance he thought
as he sank in his cold bed
Neither your gold gleam; nor bright silvery luster,
O moon, pale, you've gone ball of grey-dust cluster;
Rusted iron-plate? Glamour-gone brass-globe-gate?
Adulterated alloy? You're dull, in each rate...!
Your emergence from dark gloomy clouds resembled,
Skull of crematorium gray-dust assembled;
Ghost-like frightening! Like paint-gone grave disgusting,
Like devil standing in darkness sharp nails thrusting...!
What do you try to tell me my dearest pale moon?
Has my life turned like irregular desert dune?
Has it reached the end of eventide despair-filled?
Have all goodness in it, by wickedness, got killed...?
Whatsoever you might impart; one thing I'm sure.
My pains and sufferings have grown far beyond cure;
Wretchedness, like field mouse, has, in me made his home,
While my happiness, as though homeless, seems to roam...!
There's hope, yet, O pale Moon emerged from dark clouds!
Though darkness, like carbon canopy, gravely shrouds;
Just like it fails to conceal your sharp piercing rays,
Midst gloom, Almighty will open for me new ways...!
22 July 2022
Having lived a long life,
and studied enough,
both then and now...to my
satisfaction I can say that
man has not changed for
the better –
Nor has he changed for the worse
Unless, one considers no change
a proliferation of the curse?
Expelled from the garden, a reject;
his genetically modified soul-crops
not fit for healthy consumption –
Such a stern expulsion!
So, did God accidentally make
a less than perfect man? Surely, if so
though hell, itself, an eternity...for
mortals adulterated as we, there must
be an alternative, less permanent,
merciful plan?
for could, an All Just and Loving God
punish forever His Own, Optional-man
...who yet thinks and feels
though flawed his actions
and how shallow his appeals?!
The women bending and pounding in rhythm
was a vibrant bucolic sight. The long wooden
pestles were powered by the human current.
While grinding raw rice,
they stopped to rest, and
to crack jokes, which were
embellished with erotic
connotations, and were worthier than today’s
TV humors. They made turmeric and coriander
powder, when their delightful nasal tunes vibrated
through the powdering
thunder. Chili particles
provoked their nostrils.
Sneezing was soothing.
They crushed herbs and roots, medicinal wonders.
Their minds, too, were muscular. The mortar and
the pestles have been discarded in a nook of the
present. The modern
ladies prefers to powder
packets, albeit adulterated
or preserved in poison.
First published in The Literary Hatchet (issue #28).
I dream a world of contrasts and evolution
Bold smartness and resolution
In so much as:
Flat things are flat for all people,
and shades of gray are not adulterated by photoshopping.
Facts and opinions regain their identities.
Deception is an accident not a strategy.
Trust is earned.
Empathy is respected as a strength.
Impulsiveness once again is the domain of toddlers,
not an asset of adults.
The racial spectrum achieves a balance and cohesiveness
unachievable by Versace or DaVinci or Trump.
Our differences are assets we share.
Ideas are guided by compassion and wisdom,
and triumph when they find their words.
I dream a world of contrasts and evolution
Bold smartness and resolution
Such grief my friend marsupial
Child from wonder born
Fractured in a moments time
No fragment left adorns
Moments burned so carelessly
Confusion wrought a bramble wood
Muddled through another day
When you could, you understood
Madness to persistent lies
Around a corner unabated
Slice of joy to top the day
All of life adulterated
Left with only games a remnant
No pouch of peace remains
All for change no betterment
Flipping dice of discontent
How exhilarating...
this magic spell of you. I'm completely
at your mercy, my love. I wish you knew
Oh, I wish you knew just how deeply
you thrill and seduce me.
Your trace of "beloved" across the chamber
of my heart with your delicate fingertips
The tickling breeze from your blow on
the nape of my neck sends goosebumps
radiating deep down to my bones
Your soft whisper of my name gives me
a tingle up and down my spine.
The sparkle in your eyes and smile
explode with adulterated joy and shakes
the concrete beneath my feet.
Your every touch, goosebumps
cap-a-pie, skin and bones. Each kiss
goodbye, a torturous yearning that turns
my world topsy-turvy; my heart
churning like an angry ocean....
until you return!
Submitted for...
N-A rerun 4 Poetry Contest (Winner: 2nd Place)
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
Date: 12/17/2019
Goosebumps Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Delilah Ventura
Date written and submitted: 11/24/2019
FRAGMENTS 5
Assorted fragments tossing
In the wind-blown gravity
Of being and becoming
Not yet adulterated by time
And mellow beyond space
Yet all-abiding in principle
Where each iota of blood
Gushes in tandem even prompts
Simple harmonic motion hence
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
04 October 2019
Singapore
A fast drive through highway
speeds a country landscape.
Music blares loud, gliding on wheels,
with windows down, worries dwindle.
A fantasy flies in a pastel sky.
A bottle of soda opens
a cocktail of champagne,
to drive off that bridge on to that lake...
to slip over that cliff on to that water.
Grip of steering wheel maneuvers
zigzag chasms of adulterated dreams.
Skidding sideways on jagged stones,
lightless lanes, murky headlights dim.
Rules of traffic and chasing police,
fine for parking and driving wrong side.
Potholed roads in ramp of Life's ride,
Love sits close on left and behind.
Journey of survival is a Driver of Victory,
Rear view and Windshield to see along,
till a Red Light says, Stop, you've won it all.
Dated 14th June 2019
Sponsor Julia Ward
Contest -Driver of Victory
I know who you are,
Your eyes are a witness to my diverse desires
Your ears entertain my words of your mastery
I know who you are,
Your compassion escapes me
Your perception of us is fantasy
I know who you are,
Your emotions are shackled by your fear of my impulsions
Your love is a ghost of my adulterated past
I know who you are,
Your Sins towards me I forgave long ago
Your feelings for me are distant and mine are part of your forever
You see,
I do know you
You are a
Father
Son
Brother
Lover
And most of all,
A man that will not let go
The properties of your denial will configure the destiny of your relationships
penchants for doing things the right way
unhinge the knighted sky shot full with holes
twinkle twinkle little star, you burn so very
bright, where have you all gone? home you say,
dancing the edges of madness’ thin veils
containment slotted through the IS’s of
consecutive sequenced selfs, unawakened
self-righteous indignation, plagiarize the
potential for adulterated emotions
conspicuous lapse of good judgment
right the scales of too much this or that,
the arms of balance form both positive
and always behind the seen, negative imagery
this land whirls the positive insisting it’s
our only reality of expression, negative quivers
with pretence experienced as a landscape
of oblivion ensued from forgetfulness...always is
a this and a that, a hat and a cat, a louse and a mouse.
Always is...
I'm not afraid to die of her smile
because no poison
no fuel, adulterated......
and no betray in her mind
when she smiles deep and sweetly
then I want to swim as much as I
and, of her tears like ocean
i wish I could swim, I can fly of her voice
I love her specifically, since
when we had been strangers for a day
for a night of flowering season
and we had smiled jointly by faced
I recalls that moments by heart and silenty
the beautiful moments returning
with holding her shadows --
she was smiled, that pictures arrived again
Like a baby of smallest ages I play
and the pictures makes me happy
as I feel like the climbing on the peak of mountain's
I love her smile
makeup, beautify herself and
everything of her fashion
and designing, and become natural beauty
i love her like a fish loves water
i love her like a bird loves sky
What shall I do when I can not hide;
And the sheets that I lay on no longer I abide;
Awaken by the storms screaming thunders cry;
I rise
Where shall I go as I sleep my eyes closed wide;
My memory frozen as my brain is fried;
Awaken now my eyes open shut;
Tell tale stories as I pain as I hurt;
What shall I do now that I in reality;
And who will come to my aid the fatuity;
So much adulterated hatred;
No time to be convicted, for I stand acquitted;
I rise
8/7/18
Pillored and adulterated
Innocence flies away
Fearing to be underrated
In slimy circumstances for too long kept at bay
Until to her dismay
Innocence uncovers the mask
Behind facades that waylay
Every question innocence dares to ask
To establish the veracity
Banished so unfairly to confines
Where the truth plasticity
In the sand draws red lines
Challenging meninges
Whose yardsticks fall by the wayside
The day disturbances in sapience syringes
Opt to defend discredited personal pride.
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