I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately.
—Henry David Thoreau
In all his scheming, the wicked person arrogantly thinks,
“There’s no accountability, since there’s no God.”
—Psalm 10:4
Cat Woman in Vapid Dissolution
I ceased to hear the birds, not
because they aren’t there, but
the tweeting is on repeat.
I ceased to see the magnolias,
gardenias, and daffodils, fooled
by the rolling reels on repeat.
I ceased to see the glittering snow.
It has disappeared. It’s too late
for this year. I shovel serials.
I ceased to see kindness and mercy,
seated on the Almighty’s throne.
Basking in my goodness - worship me.
I ceased to be a human being; stronger
than that. I make the rules, don’t follow
yours; incompatible except with the cat.
I ceased to live my life; I bask in hers,
on the screen-scripture; I know nuances
of her lyrics, every curve, lingering gossip.
I ceased to be
I don’t care who I am
like the cat
At ten til two, some lie awake,
Attending too sighs we ruminate;
Ten and two, love drives to where sunlight hides and waits,
Yet in pursuit, nights erode of what chance may make.
Amending truths our tomorrows wake,
And then the soon borrows the hours late.
Despite red moons raising tides like fate,
Attentive proof reminds of the coming breaks.
We can never know of what tomorrow craves.
Certainty can speak with gentle lips, for words to slate;
What more can 2026 be other than its falling flake?
Rationality adores the harvests they slickly take,
And arrogantly still, I feel tomorrow's grip ought to be sold a bit too late.
’Tis but another tomorrow that hides among many tricks, where ideas apprehend our stakes.
It’s with hope that follows the light that empties their mix, so plans can lessen the opaque.
While tending to sleep to grow the want to wake,
Let this be proof to find of what I may create; I can shape.
The new year is all but a day, and with love I plague every chance I’m given to make new mistakes,
And of the new choices yet to decay.
2026, I have hope for your ache.
Dear vanity o dear vanity
How silly do I look to thee
Arrogantly parading across Main street
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Silent is the echo as pride shouts
selfishness causing pouts...
self-conceit triumphs over jealousy bouts
self-glory reigns with discontentment clouts
self-reliance wavers upon attacking doubts
self-pity maneuvers toward false humility-routes…
The echo returns not indeed...
as self-sufficiency does arrogantly succeed
self-exaltation declares me-I-my-mine creed
self-inflicting pain midst guilt continues to breed
self-denial actually hoists covetousness and greed
self-love matters most, not recognizing God with His deed.
You are still in your pajamas he arrogantly said
You bet your cheeks I am I replied to Old Fred.
This is day six for these bad boys, never say die.
I love being retired and this is a big reason why.
all automatic alligators arrive arrogantly
barely behave beautifully but brazenly
carousing with creepy cruddy crocodiles
desperately denying despicable wiles
effectively expediting expediency
forever forsaking fruit flies who flee
glaring at grazing gritty grouses
hijacking horrific herbivore’s handy houses
igniting ingenious iguanas in I-o-Way
jubilantly joining jerky jaguars along the way
kibitzing kinesthetic killers from Zion
lollygagging like lively luxurious mountain lions
marvelously marking multitude of mini monkeys
notoriously noting nefarious nodules of displease
ostentatiously opening overt outages in Oregon
providing panda putrid prey Paul just spit on
quarrelsome quicksand quail
rapidly reading registered mail
saying sassing sentences swiftly
turning terrific tarantulas toenails thickly
utilizing underwater undercurrents down under
verifying valid villans' voluptuous plunder
with wild willingness and witchy wonder
‘xacting ‘xactly ‘xtreme ‘xestentialism supreme
yelling youngster’s yips on front of the queen
zinging zealous zealots into zebras galore
end of this abcedarian poem, there is no more.
tuxedo cat’s eyes rose up like a pregnant woman
I had caught him with the expensive vodka
the one we only bring out in December
Is that my cigarette? I give him a stare down
He puts his tail up and arrogantly whisks away
knowing who is in charge here
Every poem I read these days
Be it love or pain, long or a short one
Leaves me numbly amazed
By how poets use the robot hand.
When praised, filled their hearts with pride
For an expensive tour on a free ride
Boastfully and arrogantly they will say
They frame the words and lines their way.
I stumbled upon one just the other day
Forced rhymes and commas in disarray.
Blind to the misstep, pride led him astray
In the summer rain, his thoughts did sway.
Every poem I read these days
Just reminds me celebrating a grade one cheat
Like winter's brilliant moon rays
Glitters at the dark of the night.
Half Alpaca, it spits if I dare kiss Cathy's ruby lips.
It plants a jacked-up rhubarb stalk,
a stiff stalking walk
if I dare roan hands over
my lovers compliance.
Cathy’s cat is much loved by itself
and also by the silky paws of its owner.
I think it may be transforming into a Burmese python
or something more slinky, sneaky, and lower.
As for I, it shows its one scorning pink eye
as it struts away
tail up, exposing a cool distain
as arrogantly possessive as any ‘fork you’ flag.
Grief comes uninvited, like a marauder,
like a one man army charging,
he makes an unexpected onslaught.
A thief in the dark who comes stealthily,
without pausing to seek permission
and settles in the heart like an intruder
His stay is long and tedious.
He eats away our vitality,
sups on our vulnerability,
sucks our life sap and fattens on our gloom.
Like a tenant who hasn’t paid
a single dime as rent, he invites our wrath!
Even under threat, he would never vacate
It is at night, he revels
and makes the most fierce onslaught
He snubs out our sleep, disturbs our calm
Wide eyed, we have to watch
the nasty antics of this tyrant
He drives out all hope,
battles with our cheer,
evicts all positive vibes,
and invades the entire space.
Weaving sticky gossamer threads
to ensnare all happy thoughts
which come our way and like an ugly spider,
he arrogantly dwells in our heart!
__________________________________
Sept. 11.2022
~ Placed First~
Pick a Title, Vol.32. Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Edward Ibeh
To wake each day, alive and whole!
Verily a gift for all to behold.
We assume, we will see another day?
Anything can happen, petition....pray.
Going to bed and not thanking the Lord?
You are here now and were spared Death’s sword.
It takes but a minute or two, to be humble.
Cease thinking we are mini gods, who just grumble.
There truly is only one great poet!
We forget we are not Him, and arrogantly show it.
Remember, do.....our days are numbered.
Think seriously on this, before you slumber.
6-21-2022
Deceitfully lurking
in the guise of nostalgic surge
s e n t i m e n t a l i t y
arrogantly lingers
along perceived sensible reminiscences...
Persisting to dominate
over carnal mind*
s e n t i m e n t a l i t y
poisons thoughts
in defiance to reality
yet, such is denied with hypocrisy's pride …
Afflicting soul
with gloom ---
s e n t i m e n t a l i t y
leaves soul lamenting
midst loathsome guilt
feasted upon by despair and hopelessness….
By the Saviour's grace,
now triumphantly praising the Lord
spirit in fervent communion with God
prevails over and above s e n t i m e n t a l i t y
for functional memory-reverberation
beyond the mockery of the foes: self, world and the devil.
*Romans 8:7 Because the carnal mind is enmity against God: for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be.
May 27, 2022
Edited on January 16, 2023
9th place, "Arkham Asylum" Poetry Writing Premiere Contest
Sponsored by Robert James Liguori; judged on 1/14/2023
The ancient stones stand silent
As they have throughout the ages,
Keeping their seasonal assignments
As the world around them changes.
Thousands of years pass
And old stones become forgotten.
Modern granite slabs arrogantly carved
With lessons of what should be learned,
Instead of those things best observed
Through spirit and nature, unadorned.
Stoñehenge steeped with ancient wisdom,
Georgia Guidestones misquided modern whimsies.
The one God who took me away,
One God who has bound me to screenplay.
The secret God of a so called atheist,
For it no God goes me against.
Sadly the distance is everyday increasing,
I loudly laughing and silently crying.
The traveler I went
In the opposite direction, arrogantly(?)
Not at all ... it is mistakenly.
I thought I'd catch her in a circle,
But alas! I didn't know that miracle.
She truly ran after me behind!
Without God who can be such a kind?
Did I learn to dream so much, dear?
Why didn't you call me near?
Though I know it is very rare!
How can that be,
Why God can run after an unknown priest!
I have learnt that none is really an atheist.
When our paths crossed for the first time
you behaved arrogantly hurting with me
I found you wore a mask to hide secrets prime
us on the same page I knew I would never see.
Our paths forked for I found you rudely shrewd
as I traveled composed down the memory lane
your veritable valued self-respect I misconstrued
the mistake I learned to own up with mental pain.
I set my self-centric life on the right course
became prudent with infusion of tolerance
misunderstanding was erring impulsive force
failed to glean latent truth at the first glance.
Facade of seeming bearing can be deceptive
the contours of real mind it may not define
not to be overly critical is a cathartic objective
for if a bit less judgemental life is so very fine.
January 26, 2021
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