Readings on the rise i beleive..In twentytwenty
Five.' More demand for books; reads well to
Me.' May it auger well for society.' I guess Richatd Vobes, will be heartened by this vibe
Long may, all collateral fallout, continue to
Thrive..Let Bibles be bought, to be studied at
Length, that Nations be enriched by their
Diverse appeal to each humans sense.' May
Each message be taken deep.' May they light
Every day.' And refresh each students sleep.'
May admonishnent and encouragement build
A new body of Christ.' Where Gods spell and
His promises, triumph over vice.' Let minds
And bodys live in His One True Love.' As we
Await each challenge.' He observes from near
And above.' Now is the moment.!!! There are
Many to save.' Those who have been brought
To your shores.' Who for the Truth also crave
I see it not as an invasion, yet a harvest to
Reap..May the Word go out to them.' May they
Take it in deep.' They have been brought from
The four corners of the globe.' Be awake and
See.. Now go forth.' And be busy.' God will bring Victory.!!!
I pried with a screw-driver driven into a lid
sealed with age, and rust, to crack open a
callous retribution, set aside, tombed over.
I was curious to learn how much remained
and in what condition. Up came the lid with
a gurgle, fizz, hiss, expelled with age smell.
The paint on top, had dried, to a skin, a curd,
a viscous scum of strange foreign color that
did not auger well for its pending redemption.
I poked through the thin skin, scooping it out,
to reveal the paint separated into its primary
colors. Once, thrice stirred, it slowly rejigged
into its original color and form, ready to adorn
marks on the wall, scraped and sanded ready
for a fix, now all's done dusted, and forgiven.
And lo of that wave riven coast
That bounding sea who cries here most
On wind tossed shores where teardrops sown
Yearn to make their passions known
Forever clasped with lover with foe
Whereon? Only the horizon knows
Forever onward hand in hand
Wave tossed sea and battered strand
Face to face they lie
Murmuring their sad goodbyes
Tumultuous wave to scarred shoreline
Their bond no auger can divine
No mortal eye nor wind perceives
Wither that eternal embrace may cleave
For here hath to each other waged
A covenant to span the age
Regrets' embrace stirs past the hour
Ere long after best forgot
Anguished lamentations auger
Stains the shade of envies plot
Follower of deeds most dour
Bears the pall in every wake
Bids inter the tangled flower
Of passion birthed for envies sake
within a pock, a lonely copse
a one-time proudly standing duke
lay collapsed a pearly corpse
strewn, now stretched across a dyke
no mortar, stone or brick to budge
a single chain links an area
no sleeves rolled blueprint for this bridge
it’s not as grand as Knaresborough
growing moss along its course
this felted dew-born viaduct
where mice, voles and squirrels cross
the span, the trickle of a brook
wind savage sword angrily killed the ogre
leaving a gnarled, lost and forgotten auger
Off-beat pulse, echoed heart to part,
Separate slime of sweating art.
Body but a corpus, corporal careless muck,
Limbed flubber army legs lashing ‘gainst the yuck.
Mind but memory in meld with melted vision pours,
Trickles of tickled tactile tethers; ancient sores.
A Gelphling gathers Skexy exorcism,
Against a wizard’s litany of prism.
“Some directions,” says I to me,
“Not much to work with, to be.”
An auger delves in mystic vision,
Against the self or whole of catechism.
Trapped inside a poem’s angle,
Body brakes in bend to show it,
Web of woven thoughtless tangle,
Haunted minds in a wanton poet.
They proposed stabilization
Friction from the augers
Rotation
Caused one to ponder
Would such affect
Those ah yonder
Then in perfect diction
He said it as a predict
If thee surface of this
Slate should pop
It will create a lot of
Rocks
And if these rocks should
Roll
No one. Would be in control
He rethought the matter
A solution was what he was after
Reaching down in his soul
He made sight of stories told
He'd use boulders as a buffer
We're the stones to roll
Nothing would suffer
Everyone loved his plan
They stopped by to give him
A hand
They proposed using an auger to drill holes to
Plant trees crack the mountain side below the
Surface. They also bored holes and filled them
With cement to instantly began the process.
I solemnly received my first toilet auger
As if it were a knight’s well-tempered sword.
It meant I’d passed my ninety-day audition,
And seemed to me a suitable reward.
And so began my tenure working maintenance
In the nasty nitty gritty of a toxic circumstance.
But I’d scored a small apartment, living duty-free,
So, it was time for starting over’s second chance.
A thousand plus apartments needed tending.
When a work ticket printed, I called dibs.
Seventy buildings built of brick and dreams.
I was privy to the skivvy in all those skeevy cribs.
I’ve encountered many silent tribal totems:
Hindu murti, Christian chi rho, Muslim script.
But no matter the religion of the trouble call,
For every useful purpose, I came suitably equipped.
There were feral cats, roaches, and bedbugs
Infesting hoarders’ floorspace wall-to-wall.
I dealt as best I could with the detritus,
But my biggest stress was over-night on-call.
While paying the price of complete independence
I may sometimes have hammered my thumb.
Though I may be a hack in the handyman trade,
I conducted my final campaign as my army of one.
And I came off a winner.
Septuagenarian Serenade
By Sy Roth
It wants to warble a fine tune
It wants to fill the night with a pleasing glissando
Rising and sliding into joyful jig
Instead, the brittle vocal chords are ill-defined wolves
Howling at a laughing moon, a dismal lunarscape
Ripe with lingering pains engraved in time
A dusty bin filled with some dismal memories
Working hard to shake out the motes that were in their eyes
Tearful threnody of movement closer to the door.
It wants so desperately to dance that two-step
A pas de deux of clever invention
But the hip sings a screechy declaration
Voids the temptress to ignore the mirrors
That auger the realities of time
Begs for the release of the agents of calamity
Where upturned carpets, lost spectacles
Dings on the fenders of vehicles long past
And missed names and familiar faces fade.
The song will have to remain in the head
Whirling from broken synapse to broken synapse
And the eyes will have to tell them the story of desire.
Augur Auger
David J Walker
It was all in the spelling
Actually
An e here or a u there
And the foreshadowing’s
Changed in strange
Rearrangements
After all, as a young augur
What was I to the grain
Augered into the silo
And yet if a Crow cawed
From a barbed wire fence
My uncle would turn the pickup
Around
And head for town
Discussing the meaning in
A mid-morning
coffee shop séance
Where everyone partook of the
Smoke and the black liquid
Was it rain or death foretold
in the beak of the blackbird
Everyone had their own opinion
One farmer left saying
He was a Christian
And would have no part in
The dark discussion
He would see them in
Church on Sunday
And just as augured
Everyone went back
To his own filed
Gaging a yield in the
Formation of clouds
I walked the warm sands
earlier that day,
watching the tides
ebbing, flowing,
gracefully like,
flowers swaying in a breeze.
sunlight’s aubade fingers
caressed my face,
lending an air of gentility
to an already blissful morning.
A lone rowboat, wet with ocean saliva,
sat freshly, tethered, near a pier.
Tiny cats-eye and auger shells,
peeking from the glistening sands,
free for the taking, presented
themselves willingly;
I collected them for jewelry making.
I remember daydreaming up a necklace
as a gull flew above me, creating
a tranquil breeze.
There’s nothing quite like the beauty
of a warm, sandy, sunrise beach.
Angel ascended from the ground,
To anger the humans of the world,
Flying around leaving aggers of dreadful sounds,
Using his auger to dig out dreamworlds,
Ancient augurs of Rome predicted his arrival,
But he only grew huger and so ended everyone's survival.
Angel - anger - agger - auger - augur - huger
The 'now' matters...!
May you see and realise life, 'oh' dear,
without a cloak on any form of fear!
Out in the open - nay light and nay dark,
existence alone that is clear and stark.
Influences from the records of past,
doesn't auger well, but tend to last!
Wavering mind needs perennial feed,
portends fearful future from past deed.
'Now' is true - past and future 'a stew'!
in life, as hunters and gatherers we grew.
Say from 'now to now' and every now anew,
attributes beyond gets you only to hue!
Embrace the 'now' and see all dissipate,
taking or leaving nothing at all to fate!
In this theatre that is beyond realms of mind,
be fixed in the 'now', for 'IT' to seek and find!
Changed climate is not a surprise
With drilling for gas on the rise
Where can life forms hide
From carbon dioxide
And methane let loose in the skies?
Neo-druids auger gas wells
And add fluids with sulfurous smells!
Are poisons they've tapped
With their magic wands trapped
Evermore by sorcerous spells?
Votes and news seem not relevant
The unrelenting elephant
In all our best rooms
Is fossil fuel's fumes
And toxins we can't circumvent
He greets the rising sun with a puff of black smoke,
Gritting his teeth against the cold and sending up prayers of hope.
On this tractor he sits all day,
Never to stop unless something were to break.
Swinging the auger out to signal the tank is full,
Bank out comes up full speed and tries not to drop one hull.
All day long this is the scene,
So perfectly timed and almost serene.
The sun starts to set,
But they continue to go, for they’re not done yet.
The painted colors of the sky,
So peaceful and stunning in his eyes.
With darkness starting to settle in and cover,
The rice dust will slowly start to hover.
He turns on the lights and continues his rows,
For until the harvest is finished, he will never slow.
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