Best Actualities Poems
Life, as a pseudonym,
Drags its shadow's shadow, which snarls
Itself around traffic cones and
Streetlamps, tearing at its skin
With deliberate intimacy
To alarm light witnessed
Only through strained peripheral vision.
A lace-stitched veil
Slips through sidewalk cracks,
Unisolated windows,
Cataract smooth eyes.
The flesh of the matter invades
Such as the Red Death
In living color--Vibrant
Cadavers speak the language of Love:
Mortality;
It slides over possessive nouns, sticky
As salivation,
Push and rattle and harbor themselves against
Warm, wet cavities eroded
In the backside of actualities
Sweet Tooth.
Authentic miasma, honest illness.
Any footprints discarded in covers of dust
In which Fear has been recognized
Yield into thoughts by persuasion
Of waves.
Unformatted Giberesh, Making a life for the self, Ultima.
RPG cravings, lett'a letter mode, wha' wha' listen ma' man.
Female atire, a genuis 8-Ball, wha' so ever, news actualities.
Real'mente, Matrix glance, I can breath healthily, wha' wha'.
Get out of the way, succession, livre, libre, you take me to a higher plateau.
The past is over, the future is here.
Wha' wha' gibbbresh.
There they were
Dirtied like untreated cavities.
There on the mirror
Our benighted oblivion for actualities
Somewhere across or below
The solution is not shared to bestow
Nor mercy allowed to freely stand
But only is granted to be banned
The truth gouges our knowledge,
The truth that humans are cavities
Without shelters nor ailments
The truth refuses to gouge our heart
But only accepts to gouge our knowledge.
To be under our sky is to be under their sky.
Thus we are the same people.
Boston Legal raises jurisprudence burdens of proof to a more realistic level
Observant fans of Bergen, Shatner, Spader, David Kelley could be seen as rebels,
Savoring games of assault and battery on real life large and small actualities
Testifying every act negligent or malfeasance and trivial grotesque fatalities.
Opinionated obscure minds, open up objectionable hearts and bankrupt eyes
Negligently embracing the politicians easily spoken but perjured lies.
Larceny lessons from history's changing more lenient laws is unmistaken
Evidentiary episodes expunge the human condition without real exoneration.
Guilty grievances gain feelings of raw emotional desire for monetary recovery
Arresting allegations appealing callous affidavits of due process inspired discovery
Legal litigations of ridiculous actions sequester every man's cross examination.
For - Your Favorite Habit-Forming TV Show - poetry contest
Thank you David E, Kelley- creator of shows like Ally McBeal and Boston Legal. you stinker.
Major elements like the sun and moon are circular
the flowers, the mountains and the skies
have colours symbolic of their identity
be it odours or aromatic matter.
Organic substance or basic scenting beings
register their presence through the sensation of smell.
Here is an existence without shape
to enable the accommodation of other actualities.
It is also without colour
such neutrality shows an appreciation to the births of nature
and not bothered by the luxury of scents
b’cos its long been alive to by-pass such sensation
to get along with all those who are at least physical.
Tasteless, odourless, colourless and shapeless
but it gives out freshness, fullness and soundness.
What else could it be
if not the universal liquid which preserves life.
ROHRBACH CAFE
Intimacy.
A place
of shared warmth, an atmosphere of muted shadows and candlelight,
where
emotions, profoundly sincere,
softly glow,
flare,
then wane
until, fully consumed, they are dimmed
and gentled
by intrinsic breezes of serenity.
A cafe
of quiet murmers, hushed revelations
among tables close,
but afar,
where
evening lit trivialities in crystal glasses
are served,
savored,
and emptied,
only to be ordered again.
And with each new serving history is repeated
in casually spoken laments,
unchronicled
for want of an historian skilled
in seeing the future through past events.
Four chairs, caned and porous
(as truth is known to be)
surround each pedestaled table,
marbled
white with veins of black, ratifying
the Utopian lie of right and wrong
and obscuring the reality
of doubtful tones of hazy gray.
A small red rose
in a faded china vase
fragrantly masks the stalesmoke air
with wisps
of scented empathy and care,
a centerpiece
that freshens the soul with aromas of love,
and sweetens the heart's musty despair.
While ashtrays,
chipped and yellowed, are emptied
once in a while,
as smoldering issues are cleared
for new ones
to repeat themselves.
A subtle lamp,
veneered with dust and
dispassionately
suspended from the ceiling above,
dimly
outlines illuminated mysteries and cloaks in shadow
dark,
unharkened
actualities.
And music,
soft, reflective,
fills the room with flowing undertones
composed
to orchestrate separate and dischordant souls,
point,
counterpoint,
into a sentient, symphonic whole.
* * * * * * * * * * * * REFRAIN * * * * * * * * * *
Problems solved and griefs struck down
in pleasant comraderie,
tranquil smiles from anxious frowns
are formed in the Rohrbach Cafe.
But why are the tables empty,
why are the chairs unfilled?
Why are soulful fantasies,
yet unborn, mercilessly killed?
getting away from here
i will be much sweeter when we get there
right now all the stinky stuff is causing my mind to become totally oblivious
getting away from here
i will be easier to put up with as the miles evaporate
right now all the stifling stress is causing my mind to become very vulnerable
then there are the memories of dog food and cleaning products
then there are the thoughts of goodbye waves and pleasant trip expressions
then there are the images of blueprints to actualities and technicalities
the roads that i traveled were reasons why i am behind this wheel
somehow it has made me a better person with matured common sense
the scars within the memories remind me of what could happen again if i do....
getting away from here
i now begin to see light
the sunshine winks at me through the clouds and breaks free to smile at me before clocking in
totally cleansed am i of repetitious reflections unnecessary and unneeded
i turn into a scene in the new chapter of my new movement
it feels so wonderful to actually have a turn
now it is that 'in addition' that i desire and yearn....AND I JUST FOUND A PARKING SPOT!
*Image of New Zealand at Pixabay.
Actualities
truth
relates
honesty
integrity
realization
be logical
obvious
being
real
2022 August 18
I do believe in everything that you'll find in myths
And fairytales.
They're a great way to introduce wonderful stories
That will stay with a child as their mind begins to
Set sail.
Children drift off to sleep while holding on to the
Bed rail.
Their dreams are filled with adventure, magic,
Bravery, romance, and a lot of different character
Celebrities.
I do believe in everything that you'll find in myths
And fairytales
They have a way of straightening things out so
Right always prevails.
There are new mysterious lands to add to our
Discoveries
That will stay with a child as their mind begins to
Set sail
At a mile a minute they drift off in to the night
With plenty of details
Which during the day the things of the night
Become actualities.
I do believe in everything that you'll find in myths
And fairytales
They never go stale.
No matter how many times the child has heard
Them. You can't change a word or any part
Because they have a knack for memorizing every
Word with their fantastic mental abilities.
These will stay with a child as their mind begins
To set sail.
Their biggest achievement will be reading at a
Higher scale
With a lot of varieties.
I do believe in everything that you'll find in myths
And fairytales
These will stay with a child as their mind begins to
Set sail.
An old world united.
Attributes not known from the peace we campaigned.
Enforced into an unknown war we currently endeavour.
Utmost bower bird tactics, the uninvited dominantly proceed
From above, streams vibrations throughout every sense of our actualities.
Days follow nights accompanying collective conceptualisations.
Wanting correlative wants with downhearted, optimistic, realism.
Will I again feel wind or sunshine rays on my face?
What extant future awaits if triumphant?
Questions of an unrevealed fate retain minds insecurely occupied.
This dark establishment suffocates this uncertain future.
Artificial lights guide our way, breathing air amassed in dirt.
Youthful generations accept their existence as studious to no other.
Below the surface, we crusade to combat & reclaim.
Patience furthermore perseverance.
Determined, we manoeuvre to arise.
A NEW world united.
mania makes anything feel good
what feels good I come to believe
makes feelings fact like the rush should
a careless basis, this good can decieve
Still, easy ups push engaged intensity
with little to no effort, I just go
until I'm in a feel good reality
now you can believe anything as so
and I feel, feel away
I sense everything I say
cause now nothing feels bad
in the made up truth I've had
What feels bad feels like a lie
harsh negatives can no longer be real
it conflicts with this feel good truth I stand by
and its only fact Im willing to feel
Inevitably life comes and disagrees
with these permissable highs that pretend
that undesirable evidence is a disease
since good must be right, to defend
and I feel, feel away
I feel everything I say
now nothing feels bad
in the made up truth I've had
contrived concrete certainties Im addicted to
add cream and splenda, fill a super-sized mug
each sip I approach what to me becomes true
ungraceful actualities I brush off as I shrug
HALF-EMPTY BUTTERCUPS
There was a time of kicked-back comfort and laid-back ease
Times when both butterflies and buttercups were ever blessed by a breeze
Days when wings were anointed and petals pointed to the sky
Times with the assurance that neither butterflies nor buttercups ever die
It was a time which convinced me that kids such as I could actually fly
Back when all I needed was a set of swings to get me high
But swing sets of steel rust and corrupted metal caustically corrodes
And even innocent and tiny tadpoles turn into poisonous toads
Then came a time when swings didn’t get me quite high enough
So I turned to substances that warned me yet I called their bluff
It was a time akin to aching actualities and wretched realities
When beautiful butterflies and buttercups sustained scathing casualties
It was a time when jumping rope brought hope and childhood’s pure delight
And I never sweated no matter how heated the sun became nor how very bright
I needed not to find shade that made me subservient to laughter’s lovely sound
Laughing was my only prerequisite need when the fact of a fantasy was finally found
Suddenly a sacramental sun became a consistently malicious moon
Malevolent nights and evenings that got even with me arrived too soon
A breeze became a winter’s wind that made ease Mother Nature’s greatest lie
When I discovered that children grow old and buttercups and butterflies do eventually die
© 2012........PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
gone fishing as kids meant
follow where train tracks went
and by putting an ear to the rails
listen for sounds of rumbling wheels
the river bank on one side of a bridge
was the only access down the ridge
then finally with baits in the depths
and a dry log on which to comfortably rest
on came a new transistor radio set
to hear our town station all we could get
country and rock echoed loud sounds
to be deafened by rumbling tracks above ground
going fishing now means more for hidden life actualities
innately deeper concepts than those of measurable realities
so while the stereo whispers follow easy relaxations
and listen to mellow jazz piano train tracks
hidden conceptual mechanics rising through depths of mind
become clearer defining life with respect a river called time
stan sand
Standing on the precipice of fear and awe,
We are creatures in wonder and uncertainty.
We make all our heavens and hells.
This edge of possibility, where we search
uncharted interstellar dimensions,
the wormholes and blackholes
beyond our comprehension.
Intelligent maker of such things,
If it is evident anywhere,
then, we are surely too small to know.
Does it drift through space like
an unmoored ghostship or
is it the confluence of
universal consciousness,
the essence of intention?
Is this universe alone, or
just a branch of many on a tree?
Are we here by blueprint or
merely coincidental?
Are we a rough draft, or
Are we an objective?
It is hidden in the rain,
hidden in the particles of pebbles.
Standing on the precipice of fear and awe,
We are actualities in stupefaction on ambiguities.
We fill our voids with heavens and hells.
Yes, we are tireless seekers
poised on the precipice of the unknowable.
the world is random actualities
and
logic shapes of mind are the realities
direction of time is a probability constant
called
the omega of predictable possibilities
it is first and last with respect change
because
gambling by guesswork is of wide range
with chances of failure like walking on ice
its why
someone is chosen for the supervision off-ice
its best that controller have dedication to task
so
the march across time is not pure chance and risk
for that leader to do nothing and not pass the buck
means
they are in irrational self-denial running purely on luck
it is a con used by a child to escape doing a task
or
used by a bankruptcy fall guy whose job is to be last
self-denial is blindness to one's own inexpertise
just
a hidden way an ego does plead 'don't choose me again please'
stan sand