Best Excised Poems
When hurt is embedded, so deeply within
how does one remove it, where do they begin?
The decay begins slowly, when a life starts a-rotting
and it cannot be changed by planning or plotting
It's not be chased, nor coaxed from it's lair,
not left to escape and vanish into thin air
It can't be extinguished as a fire with a blanket,
nor hammered into shape like coins with a planchet
It can't be wiped as from the eye like a mote,
or scraped like a barnacle from the hull of a boat
It cannot be pulled from the soul like a cord
or hewn as a rope by the blade of a sword
It can't be excised like a malignant lump,
nor can it be carted away to the dump
It can only be moved with love and compassion,
with time and with care, there is no other fashion
Just Beyond The Gate
David J Walker
There is a road
there is a cliff
there is certain rendezvous
just beyond where
There is life
There is death
There is light lit
By excised breath
There is sleep
Lying in wait
Just beyond a
Final dawn and unknow fate where
There is the low laughter
Of a river
And pasture with green grass
Just beyond the gate
Limerick crochetés: Once Tamil Promotion Director
Once Tamil Promotion Director
Excised wise Japanese co-founder
Called him names like rogue thief
Set himself up as Chief
All Dravidian Tamil Editor
He posed as the Royal Ancestor
Even of the Chola* Emperor
Slave-drove workers in fief
Used savants make belief
Such the Tamil Highness Publisher
He caged talents the Money-Maker
Poised as Conference Organiser
Preyed on Buddhist belief
On Chan and Zen mischief
To lard his own family bunker
Ideas he plucked from the Other
Made as if he put up with bother
Tamils to lead as Chief
No matter what the grief
None see his pen as plagiariser
All helpers rough-rode he the Miser
Shed them shorn one after the other
Damn not this common thief
Just his penchant for Chief
For Tamil knowledge made he Server
[* The Chola dynasty (among other South-Indian reigns) of the 10th to 12th centuries C.E. extended Tamil culture and civilization over the better part of Sri Lanka and Southeast Asia without having recourse primarily to conquests and/or of maintaining colonies.]
© T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
Their numbers drawn, the backwards lottery
Almost none were aware they were playing
Assaulted by the poisons that save them
Hairless children with steroid-swollen cheeks
Feared stigmata of chemotherapy
Daily valiance, heroism unsought
Magic bullets are a relative thing
Modern wonder within the foulest curse
Not many years ago, a death sentence
Now, survival rate of eighty percent
It’s miraculous,
but if it’s your child
Then it’s a slow round of
Russian Roulette
Our own bullet burn unforgettable
Swelling in his eye, excised then regrown
For those of you playing along at home
Regrowth is a very ominous sign
Mucous Associated Lymphoma
Our newest demon, bane of our baby
Based on looks, it’s sixty percent likely
The microscope will have the final word
Sword of Damocles hangs
for six long weeks
As a succession of pathologists shrug
I can do the math much quicker than that
It’s sixty percent times twenty percent,
Probability times mortality
Twelve percent chance he will not live five years
Our sweet baby boy, turned budding young man
A gun with eight cylinders, one cartridge
Facts melt like lead into a bullet mold
Neither dead nor alive, Schrödinger’s cat,
His fate, an unseen quantum paradox
Not resolved until we open his box
And create life or death by witnessing.
Savoring the taste of each day as a
Maddening flavor of infinity
As we wait for a loud click or a bang
Finally the word arrives:
no cancer.
Spared, this fate of others,
no good reason
Not a part of God’s plan for us
this time
5/22/16
© Thomas W. Quigley
a cadaver is laid down on a cold dissecting table;
to study all about life, an anatomist ponders
which organ to be excised for examination without bias
he decided to use a median value of the life
from normal curve within +/-1 sigma area
after a thorough examination of the body
the anatomist who is still breathing decided to excise the heart,
which never was stopped until the cadaver breathed his last breath;
and the brain’s layer after layers of good and bad memories, caused from good and evil thoughts or his behavior while he was alive
inside his heart was contaminated from all kinds of waste
and that’s why it made difficulty in breathing; on the surface,
so many big and small cut outs and stab wounds all overshadowed
by the immorality of the mundane world it makes you want to turn
your face away from it
the brain is no difference, after chopping the skull, the anatomist carefully pulled the brain out, unfolded and examined every nook and corner of the brain. the connected cobweb-like thought’s narrow passageway consisting from all kinds of chemistry symbols; it was, found to be a lump of fossilized DNA so fragile that just a little touch of the hand would make it crumble
at the time when the pulverized fossil blown in the air
carried by a gust of wind, started to release an overpowering
stench so disgusting that nauseates the sniffer; however, as you sniff more
and more, it becomes sweeter and finally enraptured the sniffer.
and after all the mysterious aroma thus becomes powerful enough
to delude you into pretense that you bear a charmed life, thereby
dragging you to stand at the edge of a deadly cliff
if a day of life is entangled with so much oddity and complication,
there won’t be any better and simple life beyond death,
yet the grotesquely structured brain wanted to look into
the world beyond as ever
Flagellum
Penned in broken words upon the pyre of supplication
Embers aloft in deprecated exultation
Hope remains never to be extinguished therein lies my dedication
Hence forth to be laid low no more
In seeking the genesis of the query aloft the embers soar
To the scribe all is laid bare the crown rests gently as those afore
Excised I bid you now to rest and strive not be sated in your cloak
For now crown high fixed upon the horizon a treasured gift of the yoke
Born proudly secure as I travel hence be comforted embers aloft when stoked
In your blazon garb sword and shield banners high glisten with spectacle and flare
Find your way forward never halting neigh relenting forward diligence and care
Undaunted thy be joyful proud forward yet reserved for entrée is precious and rare
Mindful thy shall be of thine vows and oaths sworn
For with them a weight is born
In their absence neigh shall come the morn
Rejoice
Send aloft in supplicated voice
So high now thy flag I bid you hoist
To thy forbearers look and take council and thy will shall not yield
Overlook now thine work upon the field
Salt not the earth nor raise what lays before be sated in what you wield
Regale not for in all shall be whence
Treat it not as valued only a pence
Let it be harvested for seasons hence
© veritatem voluntatem 2016
Rock ...
Rock ...
The dry leaves crackle under our blanket
One of only two sounds that find me
The other is her
Rock ...
Rock ...
Pure and lovely
Wanted and wanting
She is all
Rock ...
Rock ...
Skin against skin
Joy upon joy
We find heaven for a time
Rock ...
Rock ...
There is no pain and we suffer not
There is only Us
Us and the autumn leaves
Rock ...
Rock ...
I can not tell her sweat from mine
Everything is as one
As our bodies
Rock ...
Rock ...
I hear my name on her lips
It sounds natural
It feels right
Rock ...
Rock ...
Her hair dances across my face
It smells of strawberries
Strawberries and Us
Rock ...
Rock ...
I feel it and her body tenses and trembles
I see the passion being excised
I see the pleasure become too much
Rock ...
Rock ...
It rolls over me and I lose control
For a moment I feel one with the entire world
I hear her playful laugh
Her shy laugh
Her dirty little girl laugh
Rock ...
I fall to the blanket
The crunching leaves greet me
With dry and welcome applause
I love her
I love her
I think that she loves me, too
Exotic egos evade exit endings, encompass=ing eccentric
extensive earwaxed essentials/ergo enameled equi,
existentials everexuding extra egg entrenched eyecons,
extricating eerie effervescent
ephemerals. Ecoli epitaths engulfing erratic enticing eras, escorting
electric eel embraces establishing estival estates ever enticing
etiological esrogenic excerpts effecting extracurricular edsel
edacious eddy ecto estrogenic ecstacies---endemic endowments
enervative energies, etheral engagements, ethylolic etudes eulogized
evinces evasive evidenced evil equipped evocative enforced
excimer excised exercised excessed extrapolated, extended, excess-ed
extravagantly exualted enviously extroverted extrinsic extrose
excused excited exclusive evolved evangalized eventualated
everlasting etude estranged estopped etched eternal enriched
enthralled estate established espirited expressed essemplastic
erosive erratic errantly erased equipoposed epitomized eualized
epicured entombed enthused entertained enthroned entitleded
enlightened enlaced enmeshed enlisted enlarged endured.
Enclosed encounters enlist enclaved endeavors. Endangered
empathys em pale emotive embalmings empty emulsions
extricated eleventh elevated elegant elementary existentials.
Elderly ego ejections, elastic executions, egrets. Ecstatic entrails
endorsed. End-demic equivalents extracted.
Beautiful stranger how do you do
Do you really excised
As I step out of the door
With the music that carries me out of the door
Carries me though the day
Your intone with the tone
Blood I don’t know what you’re running from
Is it the mud that covers your new 42s
Running flushing
Mashing though your airways
You’re with the speakers
Airways going to keep you sweating
I don’t know what your running from
You just keep running and running away
This is battles of the airways and your mind
You just can’t get enough of me
Your mind can find that grind to fly bind to solar wind
You’re running on solar
your airway has bloomed
Mind stops blind to what your running from
YOU’RE FREE at this time
And you keep running and running away
Mind is blank with eyes fixed on your goal
Like a rolling stone as you stroll through your own intersection
Cloud 9
Were your worries and sorrys have no more hurry
Scurry with your goal as you legs are in full transition with motion
But yet your mind carries you to the finish
Never stop till the end
As you will never mend to the music
As your nurture shapes your nature
Written with endless possibility’s
Keep running in rain or snow
Or you are not moving
or hiding like a butterfly
Here I am again talking about my feelings about you
A digital diary that the masses can peek into
In lieu of ink blots and eraser shavings
As worthless as the very thoughts I throw into the expanse
I think we've all figured out the concept
Of missing the precious memories, not the person they're about
They represent much of my formative memories
And yet I'm sure we'd both rather die than even talk again
We both think we were right in the end
That our Reasons were the ones worth building a world from
And thus we excised each other while leaving an uglier scar
Battered and bruised, yet alive to see the new year's light
But take a look at the ruined world you left behind
Your absolute closest friends all left after you took a new throne
Where even in the darkest nights of your previous lordship
They'd remain as ever faithful and inexorable
They fled before I did
As rats desperately fleeing a sinking ship as it dove for a whirlpool
And as the ocean's eye dragged you beneath the waves
You stood before God and proclaimed your truths as absolute
And thus, as we all move on to bluer oceans
I realize now more than ever that I was justified in the end
But that revelation doesn't bring joy, sorrow or any other emotion
What good is proclaiming victory if nothing comes from it?
There's no joy to be found in laughing in a familiar graveyard
There's no remorse to be found bragging in an empty bar
There's no solace to be found cursing everything that reminds me of you
Only the ancient memories tether me to you anymore
You and I have found wayward souls in the expanse
Kindred spirits who treasure us as we once treasured each other
But like ugly scars hidden beneath a favorite sweater
We drift closer to the forefronts of the brain more often than we'd like
Justification is meaningless without justice
Yet justice would likely mean just as little if I ever tasted it
For the sixth year that I've sung tales of the summer heat
I surround myself with everything it ever meant.
Ashes to transcendence mid infested holy waters
naught bearing ascertained compassionate divinity,
mad puppet masters fleecing wings in lieu of
ceremoniously exorcised influential malignancy
at the right hand of almightily held hallucinations
strapped over barrels & sanctimoniously flogged,
no show of mercy notwithstanding devoted defenses,
residing within sacredly inventive corrupt corporations
embezzling enterprising riches' dutiful abstractions,
bless them Father for they woefully neglected
the word of all gods' intent and persuasions, serving
no higher purpose than to gild collective repositories
of sinfully en-massed wealth in the name of religion
and the sacrificed blood of Jesus' crucified convictions
written upon coveted covenants' ingrained biblical bluffs,
struck settling false witnesses' far-side excised stonework
And in the well-worn ache
of turning mourning,
there are no more tears-
for all is beauty-lathed
misery, held unswathed,
without fearing to uptake
hope's new sculpted shape.
A changeling exchanged
while flailing naked
in it's abyssal state.
And wholeness excises, to demean
only fruitless shoots, now seen
to sow what has no further meaning.
And in the ague
of restless morning's
fitful, nude, new break
from dim, unsculptured yaw-
fretful feet leave
dark, wet indents in dew.
Old soul trails beneath gift's gape-
heaven's gate, just ajar,
seeps, speaks healing wreathed
in Love- the writhing heart agape.
And thr dry-cried throat
too friction ground to speak,
slakes it's thirst on dew-
Heaven's assuage tempers, cools.
And in eyes' age
of blinding burnings-
forceful, rude muckrake,
there are no more proud airs.
For eyelids pasted shut, caked
in self- molded clay's despair,
felt insightful incision
draw sharp truth's decision deft-
knavish knots excised, reveal
man's Sculptor knows justly how
to grave His image.
And seeing is only believing,
when believing is cleft open
to high insight's slice and sculpt
understood, read, spoken.
02/12/2017
"I want a season that whispers, "Jesus."
Ann Voskamp
'Twas the night before Xmas... No, No. WAIT!
That big X woefully negates Christ's birth ~
A phrase I detest and makes me irate
because it diminishes Jesus' worth.
At Christmas, presents are always gifted
What greater gift could there be, but His life?
Pity, the name of the season shifted
where only joyful merriment is rife.
"X" out Santa Claus from the occasion
and there'd be a tumult of objections.
There's no balance in such an equation.
These are my sentiments and reflections.
I celebrate His sacrifice each day,
sans a tinseled tree or lights on display,
so I have excised "Xmas" as a word
for its use is Biblically absurd.
November 27, 2021
"X" Contest hosted by Constance la France
Once upon a time fairies had tails, feathers and even scales.
This is the true tale of how and why fairies lost their tails.
Well
It all began in ancient times in the age of the dinosaurs
The first fairies were like mini flimsy and flighty Archaeopteryx
With scales, feathers and a long prehensile tail adorned with scales
Fairies flipped their tails to cast spells
But their tails were heavy and misspells were frequent.
Undoing spells was costly, unsure and tricky.
One day the fairy godmother decreed:
"Fairy Tail spells are Old Hat and Flawed"
"There's too many bad spells from miss-flicked tails"
"Fairies need a wand in hand like me"
"Fairy tails be gone!"
With a 'Hey Presto' flick of godmother wand
All fairy tails were painlessly excised
And converted to hand-held magic wands
So now you know
The fairy tale of how a fairies lost their tails
And stopped their misspells.
Today I feel sublime.
In awe, it's my time!
High emotions, ring ding, chime.
I feel fine, you know!
So happy I'm breathless.
Dawn's elation is endless.
Goodness is honed, sharply in focus.
I feel fine, you know!
I've forsaken the half-life.
Excised the nays with knife.
Yeah's and OK's now rife.
I feel fine, you know!
Destiny's equation rewritten.
Now, zest and zeal emblazon
My mood, buoyant with beacon
I feel fine, you know!
---------------------------------
29 April 2018