Best Clarified Poems
Out of nowhere; the lights shattered
Within a moment; the darkness has filled,
My heart was no more; in a mood of lightness
My life has suddenly; twisted and disappeared.
It was like an abandon thunderstorm
Came into my life and destroyed my destiny,
I found myself in an isolated nightmare
Where I was able to define reality.
I clarified it as an empty hole
Where it was filled with cold water,
As a candy with a taste of bitterness
And a war which never made it better.
Though I wondered through years
If the lights will appear again,
It’s like living in a desert
And wishing it could rain.
At last I gave up and sat
On the solid chair of torture,
I’m still sitting and waiting
If the darkness is ever going to departure.
" From the debt of my heart"
The African child
Sat behind the bamboo fence
He was sober and tense
Sputtering and wondering.
He forsook the bush meat
And the gathering under the moonlight
For sobriety and the causes of his uncertainties.
His clothes were like dried leaves
His feet like openings in the eaves
He longed to see a brighter tomorrow
He clarified the causes of his sorrow;
Sins of the father,
Fighting not to make things better
Therefore darkening the weather,
Making his destiny falter and bitter.
Tears exuded from the sound of his flute,
His fears enlarged like a parachute
But one thing he never understood,
Watch and pray, oh! African root
For your foundation is stinky, filthy,
Faulty and guilty...... watch and pray.
Hashish smoke trails her
along a dusky corridor
Aka the hall of fires
where mirage chimeras unleash
Encumbered with hands splayed
her crystal ball lumens
wires ghostly apparitions
mnemonic attachments
What mystery ensues
a phantasmagoria
of horror nudging
the demonic
Sitters drenched
in profuse sweat
fainting one by one
Alas unconscious
their fate met?
Coroners couldn’t ‘ve clarified
Described as an arctic chill
bolting across the sector
through each limp body
claiming mortality
As icy temps rise
Hypothermia responsible!
for the fatality, for their demise
Latter days professing onto
recordings of a gathering that took place
confessing that a séance
performed by a mysterious woman
in a trance—was the case.
The
Moon is waxing
First quarter crescent
The beckoning begins
Nodding, gurgling
Opening realms unseen
to the naked eye
Madame
Mystic, psychic,
a beguiling storyteller
and Medium
Down in a cellar, along with a Ouija
volumes of her writings discovered
delving into société espirita
The Goldilocks of the occults
Esoteric subjects,
a burgeoning interest
Astral travels,
unexplained laws of nature,
powers latent in man
Madame channeled
ascended masters
The Voice of the Silence
The Two Paths
The Seven Portals
"gifts" from the specters
This time Madame stands
to receive between intervals
and only he is seated
Warning him of dark spirits
a dimension outside
of our physical time-space reality
shadowing, making absence
of light a necessity
To invoke them
another nod
Continues unabated
Reveal the truth!
By sacred decree, by order
Behind the phenomenon
details of schemes came to light
Denounced as Black Magic
she was no longer to fright
Marked as a fraud
it all a façade
The moon is waning
Third quarter
Inside is his MIND that's riddled full with mental illness,
Hides intellectually supreme being filled with logic, intelligence and great genius.
His sorrow is that a man, one full of mankind's afflictions, anguishes, and tears.
The subconscience keeps the burden of all the lives lived throughout many hundredstudents of thousands of years.
At his core is a centered compassion, a wisdom, a perception, and the ability of an EMPATH.
He feels the emotions of others, understanding the fullness of grace in each little wrath.
The feelings are clarified in words delivered through the LYRIC and POEMS of his blood pen.
A troubadour is within him, as is all the souls of lives he lived over and again.
Building his temple, with the tools of honesty, forgiveness, and patience that is grand.
A foundation built through pain that's strengthened with in him for his towers that will forever stand.
A conscience that gives mankind a gift of their happiness before his own.
Debilitated mind illness overpowers his decisions by emotions alone.
Contradicting bliss with meaningless aspirations with mindlessness and reasons with uselessness.
His is the pain self indulged by the mayhem that blinds then binds worthlessness.
And still his minds genius allows him to know then learn all that he touches with an ease to maintain.
For he is about the thing you fail within the contradiction of salvation.
There's a story in the bible that should be clarified-
it's true that Jesus Christ was crucified and died
but Judas never hung himself I know he's still alive.
I was doing shots with him down at a local dive,
he was dirinking bourbon and I was drinking rye.
He was getting wasted as I listened analytically
to a story of betrayal he was pouring over me.
He wore a smile upon his face and talked congenially
but under that exterior it was obvious that he
was a raging fusion of covert hostility.
I sat there and listened through several shots of rye
until the conversation faded and then it finally died.
He paid his tab in silver and as he staggered off outside
I sat there on that barstool completely mystified
as to when he'd finally kiss this relationship good-bye.
Judas is a friend of mine but I want all of you to know
I get very nervous when he stops by to say hello.
With boldness untold
She bared me her soul
Confiding in me
Her very humanity
A gif of herself
So courageous and free
It clarified for all
The direction from thee
On a beach in the moonlight
You showed me the way
For goodness and grace
Now I see it today
A gift divine
So crystal so clear
That forever in this life
Will I know what is dear
I pledge to her again
My heart and my soul
For it is in her arms
That the story will be told
Should I falter should I fall
I beg of you now
Give me the strength
To climb this high wall
In this life we’ve created
I vow for her my best
I’ve climbed the high mountains
God put me to test
He gave me the vision
To continue to see
That in this life
There is only Susan and me
Vow I take, triumph I foresee
Verbal promise, clear-cut, precise
Volition has my guarantee
Values changed, new contempt for vice
Virtue's purpose is verified
Vision refocused, clarified
Vacillation is absentee
written: June 4, 2018
Joseph May's contest Pleiades Poetry
It's almost Halloween, and parents
afraid to let children go out?
First it was drugs in candies, then razors,
then predators, it makes me want to shout!
You know what the boogeyman it is this year!
Why COVID, of course, how we love living in fear!
Even though the numbers have been clarified we
love the inaccurate ones, of course.
Fake News keeps posting inaccurate numbers, so
how much of living fully have we all lost?
Plenty, I say! Lost wages, lost time with friends
and family.
Blue "Pampers" on our faces?
Such a ridiculous, inhumane display.
Of course time to cash in, masks in polka dots,
leopard or lush pink.
No wonder people are not only on drugs, but
also, the heavier they drink.
What does a mouth or smile look like anyway?
Muffled words, no full out laughter, gives me
vertigo and brain-sway.
Churches locked tight, but a city, fine to burn?
Casinos, Costco wall to wall people, but of God,
or to sing in a chapel?
You are forbidden to respect, honor and to learn.
In the USA, the right to assemble peacefully is
hardly a joke.
But Portland has had over 100 days of rioting...
Are these folks on coke?
I don't know if the freedom I once knew, will ever
be allowed to be?
Just masks, social distancing till I die, and the sad
part is....I will never be free!
September 15, 2020
4pm PST
Time does not change --
distance and consciousness
does. Things can work for
entirely different reasons than
thought. Man has many grafted
bibles. To some, Science is a
truer messiah. Love, then, par for course,
to the same mindset, is a mere figment.
Man conjuring up what he believes he
needs – thinking what he imagines
he cannot exist without.
My well-searched opinion,
Love is not Love until it is clarified, rendered
a unifying reality. Released from the palm of
Ego Driven Grip. Freedom, a double-edged sword.
Possessing both lengths of good and evil.
I had my 65th birthday on Monday.
Here are some things that were clarified for me by friends.
I hope it is a sign from God that I can still learn!
False, "erectile dysfunction" isn't a labor dispute at the
new high rise they are building downtown.
False, a "persistent vegetative state" doesn't send
representatives to the U.S. Congress and the Senate, it
does however describe the U.S. Congress.
False, Dr. Neil Clark Warren doesn't have the answer to
everyone's dating dilemma. He had a wonderful
transvestite, necrophiliac, faith-healer lined up for
me, but I got cold feet...................Imagine.
True, the only media entity getting lower ratings
than me and my poetry on PoetrySoup, is MSNBC.
False, Chevy Chase isn't one of the tracks they visit
on NASCAR's Sprint Cup Series.
False, we don't subscribe to the theory that premarital sex
will make you go blind. At my age, it is called "Pre-
Interment-Sex" and I wear bifocals already, anyway.
True, I was really feeling a little low about turning 65
and all, but then I saw Hillary Rodham Clinton on the
tube. Now, I feel like the King of the World!
True, there will never be a clear winner in the battle of the sexes.
True, if you woke up on the wrong side of the bed
this morning, you still "woke up." Be happy!
True, I will never write any of this opinionated drivel
on PoetrySoup again for fear I get banned. If you
believe that................
Happy April Fools Day Soupers, don't take ya-self too serious
Her reemergence into my relatively reclusive reality
was tantamount to the scary sensation a victor perceives shortly prior to victory,
the feeling that you could prevail if time would just evaporate suddenly,
extinguishing the crowding curve that an opponent may still win,
the situation wasn't that dire,
Nevertheless,
Embers became fire,
flames transformed into dangerous desire
and wishes remained whimsical,
we began by ignoring the unpreferable past like it was dissolved ice
that watered a now open and fertile steppe ready for horses liberty,
she spoke vaguely, happily, and with a young athlete's hubris,
I clarified things comprehensively, I was encouraging like lost songs heard within,
Aleksandra said that she was in love with life itself,
I mentioned that I was in love with survival,
seemed to me that there was a compatible appraisal,
one who loves life does so because life appears to them as a kind beauty
a perfect preachment that exists for their edification,
one who loves the survival of life perceives life as a pitiless perfection,
a brutal beauty endured with dignity for a fiercer freedom commitment,
we each received relic epiphanies from the echoes
of our elastic hopes & heartaches which suggested risk is a ransom of romance,
cute chance,
briskly, like a chill of the dusk,
we ended the endeavor of escapade,
the dictates of our friends, families foes and freedoms would not finance -
J.A.B. 2007
He had do fight all odds
A man of unbreakable idealism
Alone with his ideas
A mysterious death at high sea
The truth will never be known
--------------------------------------------------
Gegen alle Widerstände
Ein Mann mit ungebrochenem Idealismus
Alleine mit seinen Ideen
Mysteriöser Tod auf hoher Sea
Die Wahrheit wird niemand erfahren
-------------------------------------------------
En lucha contra todas probabilidades
Un hombre de idealismo irrompible
Solo con sus ideas
Una muerte misteriosa en alta mar
La verdad nunca será conocida
Note: Rudolf Christian Karl Diesel, 1858-1913, was a German engineer and the inventor of
the Diesel engine. He spent his youth until 1870 in Paris and surroundings. When being
extradited after the start of the German-French-War in 1870, Diesel and his family left for
London. He as a child travelled alone to Augsburg, Germany were he lived for five years
with his uncle and went to school there. He started studies of mechanical engineering in
1875 in Munich and applied for a patent of a „New and economical power engine“ at the
Emperial Patent-Office in Berlin. From 1908 on he developed the first functional model of
his engine with the financial assistance of the Krupp company. In January 1898 the first
factory for Diesel engines was built in Augsburg, Germany. A Diesel Engine Company was
inaugurated by autumn 1900 in London. The first motor vessels with a Diesel engine were
built in 1903. Diesel was at a state of bad health due to numerous patent-lawsuits. He was
not a good businessman and lost his complete fortune. On September 29th Diesel boarded the
mail-vessel Dresden to cross the Channel for Harwich to participate in a meeting of the
„Consolidated Diesel Manufacturing Ltd.“ in London. He seemed to be in a good manner when
he was last seen on board of the ship. On October 10th 1913 the crew of a Dutch
government pilot ship saw a body drifting in the water at heavy sea. As the body was
highly decomposed, the crew only got hold of some personal belongings (a pastille box,
purse, pocket knife and a spectacle case) which were later identified as Diesel's
belongings by his son Eugen. The real cause of his death was never clarified and his
dependants never believed in suicide, but in murder to steal Diesel's ideas. So his death
is still remains a mystery.
Illumination
radiant light
shining, glowing, brilliant
colorful, gleaming, glaring, reflecting
clarified, elucidated, clear
lucency, intensity
Nova
Illumination Contest Steven Henderson
Ralph Sergi March 26, 2015
I took a trip to the florist,
This past Christmas Eve morn.
And happened by a homeless man,
Who seemed lost, and forlorn.
He said: “Good sir, I need your help,
I don’t seek to deceive,
I need some roses for mama.
For it is Christmas Eve.”
“But they act as though I’m not there,
These florists must be blind!”
He handed me his change and asked,
If I would be so kind.
He’d saved enough for three long stems,
Not much of a bouquet,
But cheerfully he shook my hand,
And then was on his way.
Convinced that I’d done my good deed,
I bought some for my wife.
Two dozen beautiful roses,
For the love of my life.
Driving past the cemetery,
I saw that homeless man.
Kneeling beside his mother’s grave,
And so I parked my van.
My heart was broken by that sight,
I knew not what to say.
I mindfully approached the grave,
Offering my bouquet,
He said: “You meant those for your wif
They should not leave your hand.”
I said, my wife knows I love her,
And she will understand.
I placed them on his mother’s grave,
As tears rolled down his face.
And I was lost in the moment,
Suspended in that place.
Then from behind, a man inquired,
If I had been a friend.
I told him “no, I’m with her son,”
He did not comprehend.
When I pointed at the roses,
The homeless man was gone.
The stranger said, “You’ve seen him too?”
Was he putting me on?
He said, “I believe your story.
For I’ve seen him as well;
On Christmas Eve, six years ago,
A tale I rarely tell.”
He said there’s something I should know,
And quickly clarified.
“It was back in nineteen ninety,
When this homeless man died.”
He came here every Christmas Eve,
Until his final breath.
It’s a practice he’s continued,
All these years, since his death.
Sometimes it takes a miracle,
To make someone believe.
Mine came with roses for mama,
One special Christmas Eve.
A summer evening rarefied
An elder spirit clarified,
Made spare and true, the ingenue
Long bid adieu returned anew
To walk with me and disagree
On wrong and right then reunite
In love's accord our faith restored;
Late magic hour to endow her,
Naught overcomes such sweet power,
Wise crone to some, yet my flower.
January 24, 2017