Menacing clouds, with faces black,
fierce thunderbolts that roar and crack.
Strong howling winds that make trees snap,
Wind-driven rain that windows slap.
The storm that fills our hearts with fear,
gives way to skies, surreally clear.
The calm belies the peril posed
by the fierce storm that ‘round me closed.
It makes a fool of frightening fears
While howling winds assailed my ears.
As pranksters’ tricks can make me squeal,
the calm clouds a fear that was real.
The calm that follows a windstorm
Should our impatient hearts transform,
the storms that at times roar and rage
prepare us for our life’s next stage.
But if we do not pass the test,
We sure will miss life’s very best.
It is National Happy Cat Month (September). Please consider adoption.
Cat: An incomparable companion that smoothes the bumpy road.
She looked at me with somber eyes
enchanting with her wily guise.
Hesitant love became her stance
as she wondered at her sole chance
by blinking lovely golden eyes.
Living life with abuse and lies
never knowing what love implies
cautiously observing askance,
she looked at me.
Asking only for warm allies
and love that her bearing belies
hopeful that this is no mischance
and she may enrich and enhance
my cheerless life with loving ties
she looked at me.
I came upon a windup toy.
He danced a jig to bring me joy
because I was feeling low.
My name is Pinocchio.
I'm no ordinary boy.
I told him I was made of wood,
He said that he understood.
The pleasure he could bring
radiated from a spring.
Soon, I was feeling good.
The sadness that his jig belies,
which I detected in his eyes,
was eased as friendship brings
a boy with puppet strings
in a plaything's disguise.
“Fear of death is fear of surrender to Infinity.”
~ Adi Da Samraj
In my fevered state, I sought the godforsaken
sounds of the gossamer strings of the harp.
It was hours of grave thoughts before I would awaken
to the ghostly groaning of my mind’s steep scarp.
Grief-stricken, I lie staring through closed eyes
listening to the beat of my heart echoing from the
silent monitor, praying the future that it belies
pushes me toward the gate of undefined infinity.
God knows what grand or ghastly fate awaits
my soul, with grim gargoyles adorning the path
down gnarled gardens toward and through ornate gates.
Will this be my entryway to salvation or wrath?
Over tech connected; drawn to a life infected'
The moot is now mute' bad is the fruit.)
War on lies.? Square root..'
Much belies.' I read divide..Divide.!
Up to the truths, full inversion.'
Hate will grow, to genocides full immersion.!
A man's existence is a weighty mantle,
worn with a strength that belies the toll.
His heart: a labyrinth of calculations—
a maze of endless thought, where love is the goal.
His eyes, two lanterns burning bright with foam,
reflect the turmoil, as his soul resides
in a realm of selflessness, where sacrifice is the norm;
a 100 percent selfless heart, that beats to provide.
He is an Atlas, holding worlds aloft,
a rock, unmoving, yet crumbling beneath the fault.
His exhaustion—a silent scream, that echoes and implores—
a weight that presses, crushing, yet unspoken.
His success is celebrated, but his sacrifices ignored;
his efforts, a never-ending sea, that ebbs and flows, unseen.
He works to make sure everyone is okay,
but no one knows if he is okay.
His heart beats like a drum—a lonely refrain—
a reminder of the weight he carries, the burden he sustains.
I sit and stare beyond what's there, besides
"The oval window, a portal to another dimension".
It drags the moon's eclipse off the sun's circle
to show an ellipse with twin foci, in two dimensions not one.
The tension woven into its shape shrouds a duality,
a flip-flop state, steeped in,
and reeking with ambivalence.
An oval coracle holding on,
rocking in choppy seas.
Therein lies a worm hole,
where logic warps to both sides, here and now, together,
where light bends, twists refracts to an oval rainbow,
where time stands still, then back-tracks
to before, to way, way back when,
and on to now and then.
An oval belies uncertainty,
spiraling like sand,
down in an hour-glass
down the plug-hole, down into the sink below,
collected in an oval coracle,
an egg yet to hatch.
I see the terror in their eyes…
of those who seek to paralyze
their lives screaming persistent cries
of sorrow and grief that belies
the turmoil and angst of disguise.
I see hunger, the ache within…
of those whose vain lot is cast in
hardened iron cuffs locked fast in
glum humanity's calloused skin
oblivious to kith and kin.
I see conflict and all-out war
amidst communities that are
in stiff battle for cross or bar
or power or god or dog star,
perplexed by illusive devoir.
I see a world where I will be
forever in a swirling sea
of hope and an unanswered plea
to God who is said to shield me
from all the horror I now see.
I only hope when I am born
I can survive the world, war-torn,
praying peace from the crown of thorn
begging any who with me join
to comfort others, yet unborn.
Our life as
c
r
e
a
t
u
r
e
s
of the land
belies the lie,
that we land-blubbers be.
For the blood and fluids
within our bodies
are derived from the
primordial ocean that
we carried with us as we
c
r
a
w
l
e
d
up the land
on our bellies.
Life originated in the sea, which still bathes all our cells.
For water is the hub of life, its our mother, matrix,
sustainer and maintainer, here on Planet Water.........
No more though I pine, may I rip from breast and thought
This blind obedience to kind that claims all that is naught
What tranche belies and thus survives divided from the whole
Ere natures heart must thus depart from customary roles
As fleeting breaths do evanesce in splintered harmony
Bids archeus farewell to dwell in brief obscurity
What balm may stem the march of time, what plea redeems the day
Who dares conspire and thus oppose the gyre of Sedens way
This may come unspoken
dismay is mostly taboo
This count feels endless
discount refills the queue
This trust I lost in God
distrust found in the pew
This stain runs too deep
disdain sets in like glue
This dress shows all flaws
distress perfectly fits you
This gust left a whisper
disgust in what it blew
This pair of nuts lost out
despair one couldn’t screw
This missed the G spot
dismissed as nothing new
This solves all our questions
dissolves the answers too
This illusion belies the hurt
disillusion because it’s true
By
David Kavanagh
Cold choice, listen to the voice!
Waver filleth all!
He who suffers Sin annoys?
Blanching light, thy pall.
Hated minutes of each day!
Flickering in time!
Doubt belies all disarray!
Drop and drop, O dime!
Slickened hatchet, cudgel black!
Blood along the back!
Stuff the world down bitter crack!
What then profits? Stack?
Weather, winter, splinter!
Shredder, call the storm!
Brutal blight, art beginner?
Blizzard, keep us warm!
Swarm of locust, come like frost!
Hie, O holocaust!
Bargain devil, get me Faust!
Nil regard the crossed!
Ghoul of ancient story;
Where will this dark tale go?
Morning, hast thou glory?
Walk well behind the row!
Yellow king in city vast!
Hang then all from mast!
Rule of law, thy just repast!
End Times, fast! Ye hast...
Comfort belies not upfront, where the bright glare blinds,
But in the glowing lingering embers of the afterglow.
In the afterburner of the karaoke sing-along song.
Humming the back-story concoction of memories
Translucent and phosphorescent.
Tarrying perchance, in a happenstance dance,
A wake, lingering long, along into the night
On the back-burner, dimmer set to simmer.
ONE WAY TICKET
Am I really swimming in grief
And no prospect of any relief
And this situation belies belief
It wasn’t so bad in recent days
But how such shifts can amaze
Tell me if it’s sunlight up there
But then, I always had assumed
Any such attempt was doomed
As buried riches rarely exhumed
Was I just following some craze
With a whole shipwreck to raise
I’ll shrug and say C’est la guerre
For this deep dive I was groomed
Despite knowing a storm loomed
As by greed, we were consumed
I was sent to where danger plays
Regret at how my pride displays
But was more than truth or dare
I kick arms and legs to no avail
My oxygen supply will soon fail
With no-one left to tell the tale
As down in these depths it stays
It’s a great loss in so many ways
A treasure so valuable and rare
Survival is now a pointless task
Resigned, I’ll remove my mask
Quick and painless is all I’ll ask
Never again to see a sun’s rays
My blurred vision is just a haze
As of another world I’m aware
Often
words that
condemn
offer salvation
Their
juxtaposition
the blink
of an eye
What starts
to indict
turns into
redemption
The turn
of a phrase
their meaning
— belies
(The New Room: March, 2025)
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