Best Disjointed Poems

"Laureate"



Laureate 
speak now lofty phantom
to my mind

guide my hand 
I write I write I write

receptor of communication
things that are not mortal
Luminiferous aether 

sublime 
not normal...

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My distant spirit is dying, 
disheartened, disintegrating and self deprecating.
Defenceless, as hope disappears,
emotionally shipwrecked in deep waters,
yet to be discovered. 

In the sadness of sentimental...

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What is life?

Euphonies, cacophonies and chromosomal anomalies
intertangled destinies and illusive methodologies 

Occurring in obscure dimensionless time
Millenniums fertilized to create the sublime

Perceived by ideations so pure...

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...and the Demon spoke,
its voice deep and mellow like smooth satiny chocolate,
"There is more, much more than good and evil,"
the words thunderously whispered.
The verdant emerald...

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Slowly the curtains parted a head peeps out
Dressed as a small child so lifelike

Can see the strings working the arms
In a disjointed fashion
But the eyes.....
the...

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Where did she go- she left me in a spin,
     with words disjointed- where do I begin?
She took my thoughts held...

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The drip is connected to my right arm
It works, as they say, just like a charm
I'm delirious with joy, must be morphine
Here comes the best...

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We have the left; we have the right.
In the political arena they both fight.

Always claiming to be on our side,
With ferocious rhetoric, opponents they deride.

Vote...

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She sits in silence at the end of day
Beside the fire that barely warms the air
Her mind in anguish, threads that tend to fray
Companionless, within...

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As one grows old, when evening approaches, memories too lengthen like shadows. Now I remember more often my parents wondering how much sweat and toil...

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Opening 
Fourth street and the divide meet 
Near the stream where it's waters Impede 
Five metres walk from the wooden bridge 
A little further away...

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My feet are cold; my tiredness lingers;
My back aches from stooping so low.
Dampened by the frigid water below,
I breathed warmth into my numbing fingers.
Again, I...

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Wilderness is a crowded street.

Silence stings the ears of the hearer,
Cacophony of sound, unheard.
Loneliness turns to solitude,
Converse without a word.

Wilderness is a crowded street.
A passer-by...

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Black hands and blacker hearts,
Isn't that always how the trouble starts,
When the few above,
Govern the many below,
And olive branch toting doves,
Flee in droves,
Silence the mind,
The...

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Through the eyes of one born in 1952:

1950’s TV craze
Muscle cars, blue jeans
Poodle skirts, class ring exchanges
Simple time, grandparents involved.
Girls want to be pretty, men...

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