Best Conflate Poems
My inky echoes conflate,
atop mountains of ivory versos;
Blank pages into whispers,
like the sway of moonlight tides;
Papers dappled by my ineffable,
frays of jet-black cursive swirls;
My best ideas are forever found,
somewhere amidst silent worlds;
'Tis best to search for me right before,
the feathery quill touches to the page;
Arisen from the blotter, my hand held in totter,
but before I drizzle down the tar;
Where my psyche thinks loud,
with the rhythm and the rage;
A battle-ballet of coarse cashmere haze,
only then does my heart think to open up its cage;
Still I promise to always behave like a poet,
one who is the epitome of an idyllic odist;
Solemn ink be my savior, perhaps a mind lost in time,
resonant verse between blinks, my soul in the lines--
March 15, 2016
In a subconscious state of mind
both real and unreal intertwine
and twist each others attributes
into dark Eidolon recruits.
These phantoms perform roles assigned
So well they trick the sleeping mind;
The scripts emerge from deep within
The brain where images begin
To shape and sound then orchestrate
Successive scenes the two conflate
Into involuntary schemes
The conscious human calls his dreams.
Written: February 25, 2024
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A sun sets in the west; oh, boy, he has gone to rest,
Mama grips her breast in an apocalyptic pain quest.
Each diaphanous creature feeds on crimson land,
Grass on city streets—an effusive sight as we stand.
After the juice ran out, the town turned silent,
Silence, a somber speech—no swoon is violent.
Yet, something has splashed up on the beach,
A man who is still alive but too flabby to reach.
After millennia, a desultory one can fathom,
The chimera, an epiphany of root phantom.
Humanity perished—ephemeral rapt by the void,
Lambent nature likes a vacuum, such a devoid.
Earth purged, and no desuetude of amort era,
Ideal and dwarf beings graze on reddish terra.
Lawns on sidewalks are an emollient reminder,
A vibrant town, now conflate on a flow grinder.
Washed up ashore, just a transient figure,
In a post-man scene—an evanescent creature.
His arrival bestows a nostalgic gaze on the past,
A calyx relic from a world that couldn't last.
The town remains quiet—a haunting hush,
As nature reclaims what was once lush.
But a man on shore is a relic of our fate,
A transient being left to contemplate.
In a post-man script, beshrew a world once alive,
But now, it's just a memory, a fading strive.
The man on the beach, a symbol of our demise,
He gazes at the sky with weary eyes.
Apocalyptic distress engulfs us all,
As we witness the closing, the final fall.
But amidst the chaos, a sparkle of hope,
In the transient nature of humanity's scope.
Grass that grows on city streets is a resilient sign,
Cynosure nature prevails, even in mankind's decline.
Cities may be quiet, but echoes of our past remain,
Whispers of the wind and the rhythm of the rain.
clusters tend to blind the eyes
overwhelm and hypnotise
I appreciate how that occurs
temporarily reality blurs
daisies fade and daisies wilt
though Earth remains on its same tilt
constant vase sometimes contains bliss
I'm temporal and aware of this
I watch as time demonstrates this fate
there is no sense asking time to wait
nor comfort in letting time past conflate
with our present or future state
each burst of joy that bloomed in view
was gift in moment and threat in lieu
yet yin and yang cannot accrue
and balance is the resting hue
I'm temporal in the schemes and storms
constants are not truthful forms
though Earth remains it can't contain
daisies if there are no rains
temporarily we pause or rush
I appreciate calm in the hush
overwhelm there taught to rest
clusters tended will manifest
Written: November 13, 2023
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The exhausted soul's speech is faint.
In response to the voice of dream.
When faith lends its way to conflate
The exhausted soul's speech is faint.
Where the bloom faded with berate
lack of mind and frame as soul screams
The exhausted soul's speech is faint.
In response to the voice of dream.
A little smile delights my soul
A little money appreciates my life
A little love achieves my goal
A little care flatters my wife
Strengthening my resolve to perform better
Duties and responsibilities I bear
In my role as family pace and trend setter
In spite of mundane outfit and suit I wear
As through lifetime I educate siblings
Endeavouring to develop their potential
To scale heights, to break through glass ceilings
Beyond the conventional and the unintentional
As I elect and select to reflect on reasons why
At crossroads complications sometimes arise
To conflate faith and pride in minds of the lie
Lost in a labyrinth where to no surprise
Confusion and division estrange sinners from thinners
In the midst of splitting hairs and spreading fears
Among the lost sheep who deem it unfit to hobnob with cleaners
Immersed in verses of gossip as on my face tears
Roll down, fall on my chest in my quest
Into well intended missions that fall by the wayside
Too low for zero as I invest efforts to test
Waters in altars of misconception and prejudice propelled by personal pride
Gone too far to dilute and denigrate the sanctity
The salvation mission entails among fishers of men
Who appreciate Jesus didn’t die on the cross to pronounce sinners guilty
But to save humankind and I from the odious omen
Misguided human lips with little knowledge utter
As they wallow in a sea of benighted bigotry
Where they play God and pronounce themselves better than the sinner in the gutter
Who pleads at the feet of Jesus to send her providential poetry
To open human eyes to tenets Christianity holds dear
Not because I say so or I should denounce the new millennium Pharisee
Whose grasp of the biblical truth swims in turbid unclear
Seas of ignorance where the blind and the benighted can’t see
Limitations and diminutions brought about by little knowledge
Raised to a puny pedestal
Wreaks havoc as it conflates sewage and sacrilege
To decelerate a hallowed harvest and cause it to stall.
Doppelganger, you touched me,
From desuetude tales, with redolent reach,
Raising my halo, armoured,
Beyond all the charm of infallible speech,
Filling my lungs, punctured,
Drawing my breath, vast,
Raising my every hair,
Beneath, this phantom limb’s cast,
For touched, I won’t preach,
A imperfect tense, gorged,
To signify, a world, visible,
And touched, I can’t teach,
An opulent heaven, waiting,
I can’t answer, what was never known,
And in tongues, I don’t conflate,
An epiphany that’s erstwhile,
With the wherewithal of penumbra’s sun,
For touched, I touch Scintilla,
To become pyrrhic, I pretend a halcyon,
My doppelganger, you touched me,
From desuetude tales, with redolent reach,
Raising my halo, armoured,
Beyond all the charm of infallible speech,
Filling my lungs, punctured,
Drawing my breath, vast,
To exhale a world brimming,
I am the harbinger,
I am my past,
You are mine, my tune is also you.
You are the only me in the songs.
You are my first wish,
And you are my last page.
Out of the heart feeling,
You are the only one secret heart.
You are settled in my breath,
and you are mine in my eyes.
Night is mine, my day is yours,
from heart to life you are too,
Say whatever you talk about,
You are her voice,
My tune and tone,conflate you.
You are my Majesty,
You are also my secret,
Those who live in me?
They are my life now.
Flowers are mine and colors are yours too.
In my everything is you are.
In my life, narrow margins matter
Opening my eyes wide
To better perspectives which don’t flatter
Dispensable pride riding on the tide
Where populism portrays norms
To which I don’t subscribe
Despite unusual forms and storms
I ride although I can’t bribe the scribe
Who espouses a culture that departs
From humility to portray gullibility
As a virtue from which servile starts
Gain and regain infallibility
Cultivated into a bandwagon
That bends truth
Into a notoriety nonagon
Gone uncouth against a sooth
Sayer satirized and ostracized
For holding dissenting views
Which I embrace in my italicized
World where I don’t condone crews
Who sail to my North Pole
With wrong readings of latitude
To ride in circles dug in a humbug hole
Spewing and skewing the puniest platitude
Elevated into a golden standard
In ramparts and proportional parts
So incorrectly computed by a laggard
They conflate gallons of unwisdom and quarts
Which in my metric world signify
Confusion and contusion not just on the periphery
But also at the core where midgets justify
Unsubstantiated hypotheses which carry
Out fallacy tests and infer
Conclusions at variance with established benchmarks
Scientific rigour and vigour prefer
To award deserved marks
To theories in which I believe
Sustaining virtues of rigorous proof
Which I declare anyone can perceive
As the essential light to illuminate a rudimentary roof
Although reality at first challenges
The paradigm that devotes more time and space
To fallacy and the supremacy that singe meninges and lozenges
Which metamorphose a bluff believer into an agile acumen ace.
Roman whips of bale and scourge come to death
To spill upon an ancient floor of time
Pilate still asked if he was God, confess
Hung on a cross to die for man, his crime
A selfless burden scribed on scrolls in word
These deeds on parchment read with Priest's conceit
To challenge this Shephard with words they heard
He sat in peace, five loaves, two fish to eat
Thirty pieces will tear and bleed his flesh
And weigh the scales as right and wrong conflate
Behold this cross that milled man's sins to thresh
From husks of man, true God will separate
" Forgive them " " They know not what they do "
Son of Man rose from death he overthrew
3/29/18
Poverty seems like a repellent stuck on the poor
Whose only fault lies in owning no property or asset to parade
Among wealth admirers and worshippers to whom poverty seems dour
In contexts where ostentatious display of wealth cuts the grade
That profligacy and extravagance attract
Robbing the poor of the dignity glitter
As though on purpose fleas of poverty they contract
Dumping ugliness on the poor on whom fruits of affluence litter
Dwindling humanness and affection which wealth simpleton conflate
Into little human worth and warmth
Where spooks of poverty deflate
In proportion to the increase in affluence sloth
Sown, grown and thrown with utter scorn
To belittle
Abject poverty misguided affluence thinkers warn
Amounting to little less than spittle
Poverty peels off humbug and complacency
Exposing deeper layers of flawed humanity
Denuded of perspicacity and sagacity
Sometimes concealed in the deficit of humility
That often mars circles of affluence
Where possession seems to epitomise human dignity
Mistakenly regarded as diluted influence
The poor exert in extolling human unity shorn of wealth affinity and motility.
Cantos Uno Obsessive Eclipse Octavia
Israel is like a mote on mankind’s face
Born on May 14 1948 ,
A host of problems a bloody disgrace
I see two eclipses to change it’s fate,
A lunar eclipse Sept 7 next year
A rotten tepid corpse is Isreal’ end,
Dec 28 2 years away I fear
Which lunar eclipse could fulfill the trend.
There are some partial lunar eclipses too
They are 4 and 5 years apart in time ,
Will these doom angels assure Isreal is through?
Israel gone -time for Palestine to shine
And The last eclipse is to far away,
I might be dead that time who is to say
The first partial eclipse I will be here ,
What doom will I find on the blogosphere
Cancer is on Israel’s tenth house end
Saturn in Cancer a weak place for sure ,
Moon in tenth conjunct Saturn -a friend
The Moon godliness. for Saturn is the cure,
Let us look at the Nakshatra for the Moon
A godly message for Israel -a boon ?
The Moon’s Nakshatra is in the 8th cell
Pushya acts godly as far I can tell.
Cantos Duo: Considerazioni Astrologiche
And Israel’s 7th house cusp is Aries. too
And plenty of foreign disputes to date
And Mars in Leo in the 11th -true
Ready for war that it anticipates
For Israel it is not an good investment
This behaviour just brings resentment
Israel can be to aggressive to some
To self assured in disputes they think they won
But the 7th house is Israel’s allies
When Mars transits the Tenth time for a coup
With the above config allies strategize
Mars nakshatra,Magha great success too
Sun is in Taurus -gets resources from friends
Ruled by Venus in the 9th bucks never end
Wars it undertakes they feel surely blest
Wars it undertakes ,it feels it passed the test
The Sun’s Nakshatra is called Krittaka
The Sun acts like a persona non grata
Envoi:
Isreal civic views are like swine
Eclipses purport drastic change
Warn Israel free Palestine
If you don’t change you are deranged
Take no crap from Zionists too
And they twist facts to thier taste
If we do mankind is screwed
Set them straight else all is a waste
Not all Jews are Zionists too
These Jews think these folk are morons ,
Please I ask don’t conflate the two
No, then you will get a sermon.
Don’t provide a culinary delight
On a gourmet’s table like a goose
Instead, stand up for just causes and alight
Your upward mobility flight of stairs like the Indian grey mongoose
To strut your agility to take on and slay cobras
Which in one form or another your tranquil life attempt to plague
As verbal problems in Algebra
You crack with ease in the league
Where mathematical equations you munch
By the dozen to feed the appetite
That taps and harnesses the curiosity branch
In your bid to develop the tripartite
Arrangement in which your soul flourishes and nourishes to while away time
Productively when from mundane platitudes
You take leave, preferring instead to climb
The ladder of conciliation and reconciliation on platforms where positive attitudes
Couched in genuine concern you reinvent
Curiosity in techniques that slay animosity
Embedded in foibles that vent
Frustrations in ways that conflate religiosity
With mumbling and mouthing nonsense
That the less pious you treat
Like lesser Christians whose sense
Of spiritual uplift you greet
With disdain and reluctance
Although Jesus preaches accommodation
Of sinners and backsliders without grandstanding askance
That salvation mission meets without any standing ovation.
Drain no vim rain in vain
On pursuits which gather you
A blend of strain and pain.
In dreams, I’m where the music plays.
I’m listening to the laughter, like it’s in another room.
My drink is dark, bitter and oaky tasting
and the peanuts taste like soap.
There aren’t any napkins.
Others are lines of light and shadow.
I feel an anxiety that I gnaw on,
like a dog works a bone.
My dream’s conflating memories.
Suddenly Lisa’s there,
she comes up from behind,
“Aww, your tag is sticking out,” she says,
but before she can fix it,
I hear tower bells.
It’s my alarm.
.
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Webster: Conflate: “to blend or bring together.”