Best Functioned Poems
An inner voice is telling me
To take off these headphones,
Yet listening to these songs:
So soothing to my soul.
It's even telling me
To stop looking into this screen…
Oh how long it's been when I first agreed
In having this fascinating world
Be my mindful sanctuary.
I'm left all alone now, away from Home,
If only His presence were
Inside of these mere things.
Delving within what is supposedly darkness,
I feel as if I subconsciously still
Hold the lamplight of Him in my heart.
Tears bring me to Him, I cry and cry,
Yet no longer did I feel a presence
Of Arms holding me as I lay
In all my cries of loneliness.
An inner voice ss telling me to let go
And give my emotion to Him.
He truly functioned our tears
To eventually release
A fleeting form of joy.
It's even telling me
To give up all my curiosities.
Yet all I want is for Him to watch over me
And to be there, to be a forgiving Father.
Posed such, in its formidable array
would guess that all protection in refer
not deem my soul respectively, relay
but from some archway's character of serve!
That guard of my esteem, not turning gray
is from some inner peace, not just of nerve
the loyalty I've bridged by my own stay
now chances not its entry as conserve.
For naught the times, nor beckoning's concur
that shoulder decorated stood its ground,
some rite of passage, measures not impure
or guesses at my fancy, or my frowned!
How steady in some answer of reserve
would guarantee its effort, so unbound,
that resolution's comfort not deserve
or its entailment daily ne'er impound!
Is freedom such an answer, I not need
when life holds such encumbrance up her sleeve,
prescribe me not, in entities concede
but brave begot ~ a childhood of bereave!
The Sentry, grasp the plot ~ remit, receive
to bear it all, a blossom of Faith's core
that from behind, attacks are so conceive
the narrowing's remind, an open door!
The harrowing of purging not refined
a net of undeniable content,
the message straight from cowardly assign
and from its framework, instigates resent!
That Hell be guarded once, and so confined
the nature of the whore that so compels,
is tempting of man's nature, so inclined
and reconciles its effort, "all is well!"
And so it be, prerogative regress
is functioned only lightly to incline
to rob my thought, my enemies redress
and matter less, to only spend my time!
Forfeits agenda, reconciles, climbs
that merit of dissension leaves encore,
all but that host's dimension steeps unbind
revolving with ascension ~ perish more ~
And tumbles its direction ~ out of line!
To be continued ~ The Sentry Rhymes ~ Dangerous times.
Note ~ Guard duty is one of the most sensitive, and loyal of commitments.
Such as that of a noble entity, a queen, an endangered person, or even
a family, spouse, children. Today our protection needs to be more loving,
more personal & caring, not back turning, and avoiding. Our own National
Guard need to be here, at home, on board, with their reason intact, and not
forged from some idealistic, protectionist bourgeois ~ needing to be
everywhere else!
Four dimensions, yet three in one,
Location, space and time,
X Y location, space around, and in time,
We don’t consider an X as without a Y really.
So quantum mechanics stand to floor,
The claim of the atom’s indivisibility,
Because there’s always the atom’s nucleus to consider,
For qualifying it to be the smallest thing we know on earth.
What’s time’s beginning is made of?
Can be minuscule,
That subtle ignition of structure,
Which formed life’s foundations,
Set joy and inclination,
That lit truth’s mandate to do the right.
I was in hell when I was young,
But time was a friend,
Let me speak even when I couldn’t form;
Credibility is on time’s side by time’s identity,
As time’s the only form that can claim credibility,
Without having acted or done, functioned,
Only having been, only having presumed
Because credibility is the essence of that configuration:
That’s why you need to be a friend of time,
Because time’s credible without you,
And time will give you life,
Time will not demand respect.
I have not changed my view of time,
With ages, triumphs and tragedies,
But time has changed its face to me:
More friendly, more gracious,
More amorous.
But I needed people on my side more,
More trust surrounding my disability,
Sociology was not once nice to me,
When time was on my doorstep.
However, I could say it was my fault,
More determination would’ve sufficed,
More belief in two of us, not individuality,
And more trust in asking emotionally,
About anything, the physical.
Time is truly physical, when it’s analysed,
Because physicists inquire into it resolutely,
And so I will always have that friend,
Which I made as a child of recondite contortion.
I knew him before they shackled him to chair
I contend, none knew him better than I
He's tall, charming, quite an elegant air
An athlete lissom, a kite in the sky
What happened you asked, what so deformed him
Crippled his independence, left him ill?
The doctors said osteo-arthritis
But a disease is never its own cause.
I will tell you how he told me, listen
There is a madness meaningless in us.
The happy night I went to sleep, we lay
Like children in each other's arms, snoring
The cockcrow and bird call woke the new day
Fresh air and old love, and life adoring
Shall we breakfast with family today
Or to some lake, picnic paired, wander free
A vehement no, a tone for the fray
I rose for the bathroom, shocked at lost glee.
I would return in silence, let her speak
The calf gets more milk just by being meek.
One step from hallway and into the room
I felt a sharp pain announcing my doom
A shadow from behind a door, a groan
My loins exploded in my head, nothing more.
How long was it, I cannot tell, a moan
Of pity, a kinder hand to restore
Consciousness again. The back crumbled then
Degenerated more and more with time
Things smelling salts and linament can't mend
He functioned well in intervening years
Running, swimming, the ardent athlete
A few interruptions, grimace and tears
For wasted life and love and great defeat
You do not start from bottom starting new
Again, but from a deeper hole of doubt
A deeper fear. It crippled him he knew
Not how, nor how deep the scar remain. Out
Now, you must go; leave the great spectacle
The man who prayed without miracle
And yet still believe this end serves some cause
Some greater purpose than himself. I pause
To reflect, then limped away, the sick loin
Begins in the old sickness of the mind.
What could he not have done, the great lovers
He denied for honor, the high esteem
Of wealth and fickle praise, but love covers
More than faults in the mangling of the dream.
The scholar, the poet, the statesman too
Wears shackle invisible on the heart.
Love measures the height of what we may do
Yet men go all the way in, not in part.
See your great spectacle bound to a chair,
Crippled, defeated ... perhaps, something there
Strangely smiling, beyond the eyes of fear
He's tall, charming, quite an elegant air.
Ma's Sudden Deterioration Broke My Heart
Pa
Ma kids
Papa died
Mama worked daily.
She grew old but still functioned.
Own-way and fighting for her own
Independence still and lived alone doing
All things shopping with Credit Cards, paying bills
Doing her own laundry, traveling to the doctors,
Up to four months ago until a Lucifer said God loves you not!
Then
Like Job
Faith is still tried,
What a blow in boils did
Lucifer gave,leaving off from
Being a son of light, now dwelling in
The darkest places just to catch you out of faith!
Chronic diseases need tender care, but Mama did
Not believe this was truly so and one day she was found,
With lack of multifunction in all areas of life and true living.
Waiting
Praying for
A miracle to have
As God wills, purposes
And plan, no man even owns himself
And what we may plan for another the Lord
May seem to do what ever it is he wants or allows
Man to do to his fellow man, as he watches from above
That each man may be accountable for his own misgivings,
Doing to others as he would like others to do unto him. Amen.
The Mayan Calendar, for all to see
the end of the World, That's when it will be,
Some people say, that God doesn't know
just where He should place His seat for the show,
Earthquakes and storms
every day now it seems,
disasters, disasters
to the doomsayer's gleams,
I dis-remember was it last year
a doomsayer down south,
filled his pockets with money
by running his mouth,
Y2k another prediction
where doom it was said,
Yet computers still functioned
and the World was not dead,
I won't make predictions
for the death of us all,
Might be the best that could happen
is if Wall Street did fall,
What will happen to man
will be seen in the end,
we've done it all to ourselves
that, we cannot defend,
God, gave us this Earth
to do with as we will,
all the damage we've done
and are doing it still,
Man,
the most intelligent mind,
with a heart and a soul
yet, we just cannot find,
And yet, it was written
on tablets of stone,
just how Man should live
It's always been known,
Intelligent minds
driven by lust and by greed,
cannot fathom, the simplest of things
one thing that we need,
To love one another
without malice or hate,
or when the end it does come
there will be no debate.
Dedicated to Man's inhumanity to Man !
Apon are arrival once at times seemed questionable
We were greated by none.
Hawaii had spoiled us to all other airport experiences
Were else could a half hunover yet slighty buzzed madman
stumble from a plane to encounter a beautiful woman in a grass skirt
and cocunut bra once even now made me thirst for for a pina collada.
But in in canada there was nothing to greet us there but cold
As we stumbbled around dressed like soon to be doomed criminals awaitting trial.
Cananda its slogan should have been.
Welcome to Cannada it's really dam cold.
But we knew where to find warmth in this enviroment.
Or for that matter any enviroment.
For we were drunks or as i liked to think of it consistant drinkers
And on are journey into this land of freezing weather maple syrup
and ice hockey.
We had one true goal.
we had come to drink Cannada dry.
No bar would go untouched No bottle would not know are name.
we would hit on many women.
Score with a few and say we had slept with many.
I was a religeous man and i needed to get in touch with with the spirts
The spirts of Canadian mist Jim beam And my old stand by spirt Gin
It was a bold mission for which we had set forth.
Are livers were alredy beaten to almost a pulp but
we still somehow walked and functioned in disquise of
semi normal human beings but nothing was further from the truth
we were writters once ment we were professional crazy people
On a mission to depleet this icey land of its alcohol
an drink canada dry
Stars burning across your garden,
Saturn's shadow chasing my soul
imprisoned within window-panes,
pressing firmly
your hand print
knuckles whitened,
brown eyes fixed through entombed vessels
once a mirrored heart.
Dancing in my darkened room,
your white cotton gown
tattered
thread-bare
transparent,
shrouding your body.
Your brazen smirk,
inked indigo blue
washing my old shirt in hate,
wrapped arms
are you wearing my skin
a sanctuary of secrets--
bandaged hair tied with pinned bones
loosely across a glass shattered back
sipping that damn mint tea,
a Jezebel's cure for insomnia.
cradled with delicate hands,
hands that clutch my spirit
hands stained crimson red
you murderer of memories.
Darkness finds me awake
paralyzed by endless weaving roads,
my presence--
an aroma of the rotting apricot stained lips
the faceless mural on a wall,
life burning away layers of ash
settling the soot on your
black
tear-stained
pillows.
Functioned divorced my body,
wanting you to release me.
She was a force to be reckoned with, outgoing, delightfully assertive, powerful, well-respected.
Her business was human resources.
She was the company expert. We could not have functioned without her.
She matched people to careers as smoothly as seven minute icing goes onto a cake.
She had a reputation as the go-to-person for any and every relationship dilemma we could throw her way, and we threw them all to her.
She caught them and laughed, making mincemeat of them.
She was loving and caring, a brick in the company.
She kept things together.
She kept the peace,
She kept dendrite records that made the paper ones look feeble.
She would do anything to help you, and with the most positive attitude in the world.
She enthusiastically restored hope in people who felt helpless.
She taught people how to be resilient.
She never burdened us with her problems.
She did not talk about herself.
She left them at home.
With her gun,
And her
Bullets
And her
Plans.
A woman
Alone.
Not even
A cat.
She thought we could easily replace her,
But she was dead wrong.
JUST LIKE THAT
Amidst mixed expectations; came the unexpected
It all happened too sudden as was never expected
Out rightly, everything started to moved in the wrong direction
All that functioned stopped to function; the un-functioned started to function
Everything out of everything; it was too much for a surprise
Failure gnashed its ugly teeth at them; they became failures.
High on hope as the preacher made believe
To keep waiting as the adviser convinced
Time after time; our wall clock turned into television
Eyes fixed at every moving second; still waiting on hope
Just at the last hour when our eyes seemed to have shifted from the clock
Success happily smiled at us; we became successful.
Look! We need to talk
I guess I will start by saying that I’m sorry
I never planned for this to happen; though seems still a plan
I thought I was in control of everything; so I thought
As it appeared we have lost control of the most important thing between us
We went on our separate ways; to look for something else to control
With love gone; we chewed silently on our broken hearts.
Just like that...
First man
This first man was possessed of a body in which,
the soul functioned easily than does, today’s the *****,
The third eye we know today,
pituitary body was childs play,
highly developed, mind the soul controlled,
body was connected, all was whole,
know what happens, around the world,
intuition picture, curled, unfurled,
willed body moved by thought of mold,
place to place, by thought control,
when mind controls all body function,
grow new teeth to eat your luncheon,
a hundred times stronger was the will,
to be struck dead by thought, instil,
so weak today but powers still,
animal magnetism grip of the dill,
still powers the enterprising.
Don Johnson
seeds of malaise cultural materialism for permissions
atrial, nothing functioned more than citizens' terms of right
values, possible domains of rivalry
defined, a phenomenal world of functional conditions
great as moaning Rome, livid
women are secured in natural churches rife
locally, rational and relational, religiously riotous
parties are luminous, phenomena explained physicians
permanently maimed, publicly
recognised more properly decipherable reasons
for determining domestic chains
of events differently referred what cunning
tricks warring crowds respect, believing
as needed transferred, predictably changed
two wee lads grew up in the same village---
with their houses only a short distance away
they became close friends at an early age
playing the same sports, both learning how to
play an instrument, stumbling through early flirtations with
girls & even pondering their prospective futures---
theirs was an unparalleled bromance.
upon the eve of their high school graduation,
one of the young men decided that he wanted to go to school for
marketing---
he wanted to go to school to study what he thought was a lucrative field
so that he would
sooner than later
be rolling in the benjamins---
because, with mucho benjamins came mucho power
and with mucho power came mucho women---
this all made sense to an 18 year old who had
only one thing on his mind.
the other young man was passionate
he was far too passionate to take on the business world
or to involve himself with anything
lucrative at all---
he took it upon himself to pursue his painting
with a few pit stops in other countries along the way
scrapping & meeting new people
meeting more new people & scrapping further.
and while one idea followed a distinct plan
with a definable conclusion in sight,
the other path functioned without any direction
whatsoever &
the very absence of expectation
during the whole of his travels
made the way of the second young man’s life
seemingly much more interesting than the
first’s.
over the years the two individuals lost touch as things
go---
the first graduated college, began working for a big firm,
got married & moved out to the west coast---
the second went the other direction, overseas,
never rooting anywhere for more than a bit of time.
years went by
as years do,
and in time the marketing man climbed the ladder---
his dwelling grew in size
his brood multiplied
and all seemed well in happytown.
the other, whose legs continued to cross
borders, but whose pockets never really jingled much,
he continued, without expectation.
the man with the big house &
the large family &
the jingling pockets
had planned every step so succinctly
that it seemed nothing could fail,
as each individual part thrived on the
greater monolith,
working together from within---
but at age 40 he was killed in a plane crash
with the rest of his family.
the second man kept on traveling,
he kept on painting &
he continues to
expecting nothing from this life.
Natasha Romanova, the fair 'Black Widow',
In The Marvel Comis, is a superhero;
Surreptitious, specific, and snake-like deadly,
A one-woman army, when needed, self-medley...!
Adorned with the boundless power of hypnosis,
She made anyone, to act as per her gnosis;
With super reflexes, she functioned lightning-fast,
Saved Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson from bullet-blast...!
like Captain America, the peak strength she gained,
She turned her physique stronger or faster, unstrained;
Resurrection was her grand strange ability,
Getting killed, she soon rose in calm tranquility...!
Like light bats or cats or rats, she ascended on walls,
Midst her marvelous jumps, she escaped any falls;
Like Count Dracula, she could, often, shapeshift,
The mighty Mjolnir hammer she could freely lift...!
Her weakness of guilt or ego could not outweigh,
When her might, like gales or storms, made headway;
She sacrificed her life to save others, stories say,
In the Midwest, in a still grave, she calmly lay...!!!
23 January 2023
Marvel Superhero or Supervillain Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
You invited me to bring
some object of great regard,
And so I present My Body.
A marvelous sensory object
perfect in so many feeling ways
I dare not count
or shout
or flout it through my days.
Unlike my home
where some rooms I like
just as and where they are
and others could be larger
or a wee bit smaller,
and further back or front,
less up and more down
to better accommodate this perfectly aging body,
All my inside parts are perfectly placed,
even my mealtime's exhaustive plumbing space,
I've grown systemically proportioned,
and synergetic'ly refunctioned,
integrally ecologized with marvelous winning grace
and apparent co-relational ease of pace,
although dis-ease does threaten inside grief
as outside gratitude
to leave room for younger climate minds
with more positive attitude;
Who healthy best remember
this cherished
chiseled
rich robust EarthBody.
My garden would be magnificent
if as organically functioned
as my organs
and my digits
and my senses of magical sight
and sound
and tasty touch and feeling
good wealth object-ives for lunch this day.
I mention house and garden
because these objects, too,
I cherish
and yet they feel less sacred,
worthy of awe and wonder from you
than this body
which I usually cover up,
especially when going out for lunch,
unless you would rather that I not?
Perhaps you would prefer
I had brought what's left of my right mind,
to more objectively share,
critically compare;
Rather than leave this gloriously embodied self
wide open
for your most remarkably startled stare,
Which was my original nutritional intent, you see
before you asked me,
To bring a specific icon,
my most noble ancient object
worthy of our admiring subjective glare.
And now in closing
I must confess
this body's shy performance
finds life easier to bear
by imagining your well-seated bodies
in nothing less or more than underwear.