Throughout the ages, women born
To face the wicked woes of scorn
Expectations often vary
With those around remaining wary
Conformity is what is needed
Rules to life that should be heeded
For if you try to break the mould
Your spirit swiftly will be told
To fall in line, to not stand out
To fear a God, stay quiet, don't shout
Differences they will not tolerate
Seeking ways to which eradicate
Dunking those under suspicion
Rumours of their own fruition
Whipping, hanging, burning souls
Celebrating life's own goals
Have we learned our fickle fate
When we continue to berate
Those women who speak aloud
Standing tall within a crowd
Challenging our expectations
Often missed as desperations
A different place to cast aspersions
Quantifying different versions
Of how a woman should behave
Be she timid, be she brave
What have we learned, what have we gained
Of destiny still preordained
For women should fit in a mould
To nurture, care and to behold
The rules that govern in our mind
Ensure we stay a step behind
Later than the Witchcraft's wonder
We still are judged and casted asunder
Land of Tacenda
I bite my tongue
I felt the responses churning in my stomach but
I bite my tongue
The words rose up to my chest, my heart beating in anger
I held my bark
The words reached my tongue, my mouth turning sour to the taste
I looked up in your eyes ready to berate
But instead my tail was between my legs
I had entered the land of tacenda
Better left unsaid than argue with a wall
Better left unsaid than start a war
So the land of tacenda welcomed me with a warm chant and a soft embrace
No more yelling no more screaming just once again put back in my place
Asked for a beurre, I berate;
a croissant so flaky and straight.
I got ordinaire; what a nerve;
The dumb waiter threw me a curve!
The sun eats away at the hills aloft.
My thoughts with ease drift off.
I allow to be carried to ventures and dreams a drift
Fangled places diamond oaks a rift
What would the world be like
if i would release these visions a might?
On a world of many limits
that punishes change's herd and those in it
Maybe i flatter myself to great
Maybe i should answer conformity's berate
Maybe i should see myself on a different plain
and believe myself to be insane
Bugging Out
Alone watching the logs burn
Sizzling as my heart after your words
Betrayal as breath lingers and sways
My eyes crackling from the brokenness and the fire
Where does your emphasis come from
To berate me, humiliate and tell me I’m lower than a bug and invisible as the squashing
Sloth- like moving towards the shower always turning the water gracefully on as I hear those uncomfortables
You callously and mimicry throw confetti insults in my face, head and body. But I ducked like a child playing tag
Can’t catch me as I hide behind an insult. As I see , with sadness , you gather yourself , bow with arrow and with no concern, casually aim and release the last piece of me
I was born here in the Heartland,
And the good life calls to me.
And my roots grow ever deeper
Here in this Land of the Free!
Never take us at face value;
There is much we never show
And without us as the backbone…
Well, the country cannot grow!
I was born here in the Heartland,
Hearth and home of all the brave,
And my liberties and rights I
Will maintain unto the grave.
It might not be for everyone
But this is just who we are.
Free and equal under the law
From our roots up to the stars.
I was born here in the Heartland
And it’s here I’ll prob’ly die.
Is there reason for my living?
Maybe I’ll never know why…
But, by grace I’ll keep on working,
And on Sunday, take a knee,
That my children and grandchildren
Will continue to live free!
So, don’t diss us or dismiss us,
‘Cause you’ll miss us if we’re gone.
You might hate us or berate us
But we’ll keep on keeping on.
You can sneer or you can smear us
But right here we make our stand!
We are strong for we belong
In what you call Flyover Land!
The Carrousel of sex
My sister held a party. She lived across the road from us
My wife wouldn’t go; she was not on speaking terms with
my sister, as they often did.
There were many women there, and one was especially and
charming laughed at my feeble jokes, and when it got late
I agreed to follow her home as it was dark and autumnal
We had sex on a park bench, but it struck me as sordid and
I pulled away, said sorry, and walked home.
I was riven by guilt and also anger. This was a trap I, a man,
had walked headlong into. I cursed my stupidity.
Back home, my wife was fast asleep. She had been at the gin
We had breakfast at ten, it was a Sunday, and I was sad
I was still tired and waited for her to berate me, but she didn`t.
In the affairs of the heart, it is better to tell an untruth
because women will only believe what they have decided
to be the verity
Years later, after we divorced- for another reason- she said
She told me she had been sleeping with the man who collected rubbish
every week, and I thought of the woman in the park and my
sister who had a reason for disliking my wife
"There is so much that you don't know..."
That is my sadness, and sorrow.
Carrion, drape about the crow!
River inferno, may ye flow...
O blistered heart, the truth ye see?
Care for a love in fancy-free.
Musician, write thy melody!
O constellation, guide the. sea.
Heaven and Hell, thy armies call!
Go to the battle, one and all.
Autumnal maiden, in the fall?
Tympani, beat. Funeral, pall.
Yellow eyed, young, and wild at heart?
O for the two who now must part!
Beast, pick thy prey. Archer, thy dart.
Melee, mechanic, taut and tart.
Doom, answer well the needs of fate!
Hie from the hinterland, O hate!
Golem and ghast, thus guard the gate!
Small is the mind to bad berate...
Silver as sunlight off the mirror?
Mercury, message. Road, just clear.
Voyager, trickle. Cliff, be sheer.
Doubt and dismay, and dole, be drear.
Rabid as thought in frenzied fine?
Dark fire, thy blossom. Stars, to shine.
O belladonna, be my wine!
Dynamite, explode. Death, we dine.
There once was a little boy,
Whose imagination would not rest --
Cursed or blessed?~ was difficult to say.
Some journeys were only fantastic-play:
Sliding down waves, shaking tentacles
With friendly octopi – but there were those, also
Instructive, like the flying fish, who could not fly --
Sort of on the surface, would just lie~ and cry. Try as
He often did; not one scale would elevate...even
Garnered Gale’s windy' berate. Proud of her churning,
Dislodging force – with that little fish, like whipping an
Expired fish-horse.
Then a trumpet, from an angel on high:
Opened in the sky, a bright, sunny eye. No sense to
Tear, little brother – one added drip to an ocean, cannot
Not change a dip, for more of the same slop – one more salty drop will
not lift aloft a repetitious, soggy flop. Realize, from the top, a new world to see –
Now, will yourself some real wings...as did the crab his legs, and go for eternity!
You anchor your rancor, a cancerous canker,
Not just any mole
Your hatred you hide it, you split and divide it,
It's soured your soul
The women, you bait them, you date and berate them,
You're no kind of man
You're just out for the kill and you spill out your swill,
Like nobody can
Their hearts beating faster, they race towards disaster,
Watch out for that curve
The dark he is seeking, it weakens their beacons,
But strengthens his nerve
They know they're in trouble, his efforts now double,
Not just a bad dream
Unable to match him, they kick and they scratch him,
And let out a scream
He's vain, so he's flattered, they're raped and they're battered
And left there to bleed
In his warped little brain, all their terror and pain,
Will then fill his need
Through hell and high waters, must teach all our daughters,
To stand up and fight
It's horrific but true, it could happen to you,
And happen tonight
Hate me slate me or berate me
call me names it's all the same I don't care
to my mind it's no more than
hogwash simply put just hot air
the proclivities of others
I don't judge
and their predilections
I won't begrudge
I live and let live
as I too do have mine
but tresspass on my territory
there's where I draw the line
tho' non-violent
step on my toes
and believe you will receive
a black eye or bloody nose
I'm a poet
And I don't know it
My rhyme destroys
My pen is poised
To trickle out
Some tale about
A butterfly
Or sunset sky
As sweet as jam
With rhythm slam
Dunk in your tea
My soliloquy
I'm a poet
Happy to show it
So on your bike
As I drop the mic
You may have guessed
If you passed the test
As you peruse
This lyrical muse
That no comp will claim
This shot at fame
My Shakespearean blooper
Hardly 'poetry super'
When the quill is dry
Or my muse is shy
Or the peripatetic
Pen pleads "pathetic"
I turn in shame
When love's words are lame
Yet in hopeful reason
This may be the season
Of drought, no doubt
It may be a good shout
Though my lack I berate
Truth is; seasons rotate
To conclude, I am hopeful
I can re-shape the doleful
Convert all this stressin'
I'm a poet.
(no messin')
Hyperbole hubris
Venal penal
Avarice abyss
Bucolic tonic?
Ironic…sardonic
Or
Vitriolic bliss mate!
Mendacious salacious
Algorithm schism
Audacious outrageous
Vicarious or nefarious
Whatever geography
Clever hagiography
Moderate.. no berate
Generate..venerate hate
Casting various sordid spells
Schadenfreude morbid void
Everlasting..well..it sells well (swell)
But
Despotism urges Nepotism
Surges of Plutocracy
Merges with scourges of Kleptocracy
Purges meritocracy...dirges of Democracy
So
Resist narcissists trysts
Reminisces.. enlighten..persists
Sagacious benevolent gracious times
Redolent without malicious vicious
Murky mucky malevolent mists
Of then,
Smoke of a squandered summer morn
The barrel of a summer afternoon
And the spittle of the soundless shots of the stars within a summer eve
Homeless homage, tainted talent awaits to watch and berate
Wilting wonders to wound a heart the size of a horse
Hoarse to mourn the drowning drought of the mellow monnow
To drown the blessed sapphires of summer fever
With fevor and bloodied weather
And sleep on a velvet throw
Turn these demons and paralysis upon the stars
And stitch and tie and tighten
And wear aware of the consequence
And ensnare the stars aware of the darkness
Pay the fare to the ferry
And pretend not to hear the merry walks and dreary ends of life
Pretend not to tighten without the enticement of and ending life
Pretend not to sleep
Away and away and away
Further than the astral splurges of this
Life
Sleep with the intent of death
So death may bless the creaseless crown of my forehead
And sleep with his singular kiss forevermore
2//5//2025
There is a love that does not speak
But gazes silently on the lover’s forehead peak
It rests in the knowledge that there is rest
In fewer words that remain caged in the breast
In its silence you will feel a calm
So soothing like cologne or a cooling balm
But to others it might seem to frustrate
The boredom leading one to berate
So my dear friend make your choice
A silent one or a garrulous voice
Whatever it be don’t break the vow
Till life is over accept with a gentle bow.
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