(1)
ugly grey banister
language stung
all the
subtle Belgian
bursts of
grainy blue Gina's
Bengali grain
triangles
(2)
a high-
strung bus-
y arbiter is
bustling a-
round in
search of in-
tegral gris-
ly Istanbul
bytes and
guilt-free wry
rung climb-
ers of the
Liberty Tree
(3)
singularly rusty
syringes some-
how re-
main de-
void of dust
You do not beat the Devil
By hollering at him, punching
Him in the face – that’s what
He is, violence, physical and
Spiritual discord. You do not
Beat the Devil by heated protests,
He feeds on your discord, relishes
Your fevered pitch. You don’t
Beat the Devil by binding him,
Throwing him into flames – He
is flame, pain and suffering. He
Joyfully savors every lick and
Subsequent ash. In fact, you do
Not beat the Devil, the Christ
In you must be risen to bear
Righteous arms. Take the battle
Upon yourself, make yourself
Arbiter of the Lord’s justice
And you will lose – He will
Defeat your lesser ego for that
Is his inlet and base of operation.
Shut Him out, do not give him
Any power for presence – and
God wins. We all win…. As my
Dearest Friend said, "Resist
Not evil."
cloaked in a cover of kindness, my kindred conceals
conniving, colluding: their kiting of attacks
armored afar, yet still arduous against the arbiter
artful at-large he is, with his argumentative farce
mounting malice upon the mournfully mild or mundane,
masquerading as the meek and the moral
trust in the avenging nimbus, avowing its subsistence
my turn will come
Time
the unrivaled
arbiter
— of right and wrong
(Dreamsleep: September, 2025)
Time
the ultimate
arbiter
of good and bad
Time
the final judge
and jury
— of right and wrong
(Dreamsleep: August, 2025)
CANINE KING
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He was a dachshund extraordinaire,
a canine king with a luxurious coat most fair.
He ruled our neighborhood with nary a care,
his tail wagging wildly, his ears flapping in the air.
His little legs moved swiftly,
patrolling the streets quite deftly.
He sniffed and snuffled with a curious mind,
chasing the squirrels with harmless malign.
He barked at strangers with a fearless din,
growling and showing his teeth like a sharp mandolin.
He ruled the streets with an iron paw,
protecting and serving with his loving, doxie law.
He licked the faces of those he knew,
reigning gently while enjoying his doggie chews.
He was a master of mischief with his charming ways,
nudging with his nose, his way of begging you to stay.
His barks were music to my ears, his wags a delight,
dancing and prancing with a carefree spirit, light.
He was a dachshund extraordinaire,
a neighborhood hero and loving arbiter.
Time, that silent betrayer of dreams unraveling at dawn,
Like an unseen knife cutting deep into the flesh of lost memories,
Speaks to you without words, a master of crimes hidden in shadow,
Raises palaces of hope at sunrise and buries them in the silence of graves.
It forgets its promises in a blink, turning "forever" into "once,"
Burns vows like paper, never looking back at its footsteps,
Gives you the whole world, only to watch it slowly fall apart,
Teaches you hope, only to mercilessly steal it from the depths of your soul.
It forgets your pain when you smile, but returns with cold and heavy hands,
Haunting you in the quiet dusk of thoughts lost to the wind,
Time does not destroy you, but watches as you silently shatter before it,
And when you plead for mercy, it answers only with endless, cold expectations.
Do not speak of traitors with hands stained by blood and regret,
For time is the master of endings, merciless and cold in its eternity,
It never forgets its place on the grand stage of unlived life,
An unyielding arbiter of stories that remain forever unfinished.
"Whose discernment is correct?!"
"They read but don't watch for Me,
So simple truth turns knotty:
Captives in a doctrinal fence,
Their interpretations lack sense,
Their expertise a mere pretense.
The truth originates with Me,
My illumination lets you see:
Your eyes see what I've planned,
Your ears obey My command,
Your mind will then understand.
My people will be purified,
My enemies will be petrified:
My plans - fully carried out,
Erudite prowess - a cop-out,
Dogma of men - a sellout.
The Scriptures are all about Me,
So seeking Me first sets you free:
The arbiter of truth is not man,
You must trust Me and My plan,
I will finish what I began.
My answer to you, 'Just watch Me!'"
I wished once more
and once again - until
greed became guilt and
guilt became shame.
Who, pray tell, is the arbiter
of my insignificance -
the keeper of my
contemplations...
Does my conscience bear its weight
upon the souls of others?
Petty impertinences ... that
pile one upon another, until
they're no longer petty -
instead, a pity party with
no invitees nor RSVP's,
just the echoes of
yesteryear's resolutions...
It can be your greatest friend
A wonderful gift
There till the end
Repairing the rift
But sometimes it carries
A devastating weight
Fulfilling its role
As the arbiter of fate
Spent the right way
It's the key to your growth
Wasted each day
Die quicker than most
It waits for no man
Woman or child
Will never be tamed
Forever running wild
Stand at its door
To be another slave
But take a step through
And a soul will be saved
It may never change
But changes all things
The master of the masses
Over gods and kings
"Affirmation without discipline is the beginning of delusion" - Jim Rohn
You believe
you're much taller than
everyone else
when you're standing next to me
on your tippy toes.
It's no secret you weave
a glittering tapestry of lies
every so often,
yet you anoint yourself
as the arbiter of truth.
You still believe
that your reputation
is unimpeachable, despite
your litany of improprieties;
come back to reality!
What would happen in the absence of my presence? I directed my gaze towards her, resting my head on her lap, and met her eyes. The depths of my heart would consume itself, seeking to alleviate the anguish caused by separation. Subsequently, my mind would assume control, becoming the sole arbiter of all emotional experiences. It would sense a profound sense of betrayal and transmit this message to the cells, causing them to agitate restlessly, unsure of who would facilitate the circulation of blood through the vessels. With the heart absent, the mind irrational, the cells frenzied, and the nerves severed, it would only be a matter of time before a fleeting and ominous thought infiltrated, whispering catastrophic conclusions. The heart, unable to quicken its pace to instill fear, the nervous system incapable of perceiving pain, the mind preoccupied to the point of neglect, and the cells having identified the body as their adversary – all these factors would culminate in my loss of functionality. Ultimately, in my state of non-functionality, I would cease to exist.
Faith …
the capacity
to believe
Belief …
the odyssey
of proof
Proof …
the embodiment
of reason
Reason …
the arbiter
of truth
(Beaupre: October, 2023)
silence can be
proverbially golden
when cracks appear
patina can seal the fissures
and cradle what is left
once speechless bubbles
make reason and sense
until the arbiter of emotion
glows from the dark
peace emerges
from quietude and honesty
as alchemy turns falseness
into precious verdicts
little birds start talking to a rainbow
in between picking at the worms
of time and growth
the albatross is set free
Hearts on fire
Over heads that sire
New couple on the double
Every action becomes triple
Yearning for each other's hand
Maneuvering who has a better hand
On truth or consequence
Or Games of the General
No arbiter is allowed... just being real and literal!
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