Best Guised Poems
" In titanium haze of love,
truth is but a mere lie,
never unlocking gold vaults
of feelings, for,
honesty weeps somewhere
in perfumed odes of
inkless pages,
hidden in our forlorn fate..."
If twilight roses were
reincarnated angels,
they would carve
a zillion destinies
with feathered letters,
flickering beneath
butterfly glitters,
adhering glossy
wings of rosemary,
like a balm to
invisible scars
and encasing
my soul in a
hundred hues
of blood.
But, I never knew,
the secrets of
nebulous-cloaked
vengeance which
infused in
nightingale's
forevermore fortunes,
echoing eerie whispers
in elora moors of
scarlet jasmines,
at the jinx of
midnight's omen;
for thou emerged
as a lover in
ninety-nine novels,
but a guised
killer in the
farewell fantasy.
As I float by,
in the swan lake,
losing myself to thee,
I wish upon
defrosting your eyes,
that got submerged
beneath icebergs
of betraying harbinger
and bleed my soul
in frosted heart's
snow-sealed
milky ways,
as these flaked
clayey leaf
pamphlets of
sakura scents
aren't enough
to erase thy
fingerprints from this
poisoned chalice,
that sung sinful
serenades in
deadly paradise
of Eurydice
and sliced my spirit
to sooty shreds,
in this diamond dungeon
behind sage valleys.
Laced in
ash grey lies,
I'm a corpse
enveloped in
crimson croons
of confetti,
whilst lips
soak acrylic
dewdrops of
melting roses,
that once
blanketed our
eden in the
arms of heaven,
with starlit petals.
So, as Nymph,
in the orisons,
with hemlock
fused heart,
be all my sins
remembered.
For, love is a
smoke raised
with the fume
of sighs, demising
to sacrificed
meadows, where,
this kismet tale
departs in the
very ecstacy
of cradling mist,
and thus,
with disoriented
twilight's kiss, I die.
you think it's easy
maybe your heart
doesn't bruise as quickly
maybe your mind
is a bastion of confidence
thick skinned indifference
maybe it's easier for you
could be true
As for me? Well…
I like to stay clear
"once bitten"....20 times as shy
the reason why?
it's not so easy for me
this survival thing, you see
takes a lot of hard work
and my heart is replete
with burdens and cares
my gut wrenched poetic wares
only incite unfeeling stares
the reader unaware
apathetic animosity
guised in hilarity
isn't for me...
No, it's not as easy for me
to pretend I don't care
when my soul I bare
so I don't dare
let anyone come back round
who has ground me into the ground
once before
well….not now
not anymore
it's not as easy for me
so just.....
just please….let it be.
Eileen Manassian
The crowd dots the cavernous hall,
colorfully scatter like a box of fallen jujubes,
a virtual confetti of humanity
with hoots and catcalls, the ruckus roar.
The politicians venture forth unabashedly;
prancing and pandering for chump change
like circus bears on their hind legs,
drool running from the corners of their painted mouths,
captured on camera.
Well-worn platitudes slide through the ether;
wrapped in the crisp new cellophane of twenty-first century jargon
thinly guised in the aroma of hot buttered popcorn;
the moronic masses roar,
behind the orange flames
of plastic lighters.
* The Nader convention Green Part canidacy 2000 Radio City New York.
POETRY
it is me
with thee
upon this page
sharing
a moment
of mine,
now a moment
of thine
co-joined
unspoken
yet real
somewhat
surreal yet
for a while
here
understood
peer to
peer
no,let imagination fly
to..
exits of the ordinary;
let ambiguity cry
where..
hides the paradox;
let enigma lie
unsaid..
'guised in masquerade;
let euphony whisper
breaths..
of symphony;
let assonance
show..
yet,not dwell;
let our verse
show..
but never tell
so
Will
you take my hand
and voyage with me
upon this ship
discovery;
Will
you come aboard
and sail a sea
of uncharted waters,
fancy-free;
Will
you explore new sounds,
discover a place
unknown,with unique
imagery;
Will
you close your eyes,
let the canvas unfold,
and imagination pen..
poetry?
POETRYSOUP VOYAGE
it is me
with thee
upon this page
sharing
a moment
of mine,
now a moment
of thine
co-joined
unspoken
yet real
somewhat
surreal yet
for a while
here
understood
peer to
peer
no,let imagination fly
to..
exits of the ordinary;
let ambiguity cry
where..
hides the paradox;
let enigma lie
unsaid..
'guised in masquerade;
let euphony whisper
breaths..
of symphony;
let assonance
show..
yet,not dwell;
let our verse
show..
but never tell
so
Will
you take my hand
and voyage with me
upon this ship
discovery;
Will
you come aboard
and sail a sea
of uncharted waters,
fancy-free;
Will
you explore new sounds,
discover a place
unknown,with unique
imagery;
Will
you close your eyes,
let the canvas unfold,
and imagination pen..
poetry?
Trumps Wall
He boasts
Walls he shall build
With his generals
More weapons for the King of the Hill
Sowing hate and creating
Fascist dreams
He divides and demeans all those
Who share not his vile power dreams
I have news and its foxy news too
He can have his walls, and his shiny shoes
Hate and fear will never triumph
Trumps wall will stumble and fall
There is a secret army
Hidden under his little hands and pudgy nose
This army will defeat any wall
No matter how big, and no matter how tall
These little soldiers come from here and there
They shall stand up, were sometimes adults stall
They shall make the wall
Something Trump hadn’t thought of at all
A place to rally, a place to dance
They shall write their messages with
Love and smiles, inked with paint
They shall embrace the world
Walls and all! No giant can stop them all
Notes: He (Trump) sounds a lot like a cave man I know. Ha ha
There is no such thing as racism; we are all ONE race the human race. Racism is simply hate guised under another name.
This poem is dedicated to Kids United and specifically to the song
“On Ecrit Sur Les Murs” which means “ we write on the walls “ Even if you don’t speak French or cant read at all for that matter, the video carries the message. On a completely separate note I found a spelling error in the New York Times. Oh my! LOL
I encourage all to listen to more of their songs.
Watch me creep upon your virgin abode
without a husbandry humping request
to take what is mine from no/mo/mojoe months of
exsocietal solutiservititude of sexlessages unimpressed.
Finally, the the universaladity of our fauxphysicosexual spirits melding
into a one promiscus misspromise delegated by past powers
at be to a false fulminate the sexual prose prowess that we hide
in the nether neath of neutral neuder nuisances hopefully negating
turn raging torrent treasures into mystical monument molecular
memories into that never non-known nil complacent coiture of everpresent
For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge destitiute desires, drearily socialsoft
shifting freefall forever orgofaked fawned populace pleasures deso
designated by an eager ego-stential ergo everpresent freudian fliked flaked frail fixed feverent list of lost lucid loveless latent ladies and gential guised gilded gentlemen to go gonad gender hide a post penal predisposition to pissed off passionate penetration for the sake of wifeful wishes and mistress missed moments of heretofore hideous hiden and psuedo sexual seek/sought preluplentitudes to the other side of a risky/retro recreational ripe respite religiousness that alter states the sociosick
sanctioned **** covert severences, residue that fecal foments our current agast crestridge a----ffairs.
The TimWeiner takes all is fair in love and Warr-----anties;wishful textinking.
E X tendedness will costco create yr penalpussypoliticoplentypiousness. Third party poster plates plenititudes procrastinating???
Fair and balanced banalaties beliguered by biased bigot blogosites. Get Real and How love stinks?
Halloween Moon Crabs
A tide rises to leave behind hundreds of tossed colourful halloween moon crabs to stroll
Craving social connections like homeless souls furtively hunting their unsown roots
Celtic calendar hides matronly lunar freeing guised children and bodiless souls
Five more years for the halloween moon, till then crabby purple claws in orange suits
October10, 2015
Contest: Halloween Moon
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Form: Quatrain
Question my mannerisms, do you cause me
Kindness, should be shown to no friend
Reciprocation, will their beliefs differ
In vain, will all my acts become
As if trust, can be nurtured by none
Relationships prove worthless
A resident was my heart, of yours
Care, did you show little
Every deceitful word you spoke, your actions I forgave
Though limitations, are there to all
My temperament had I subsided well
Anger, had you extracted by force
Help another, was I prepared
My time to you, did I devote
Though ungrateful, you proved
To wound me through blame, you chose
Fall did I, at gravity's feet
Your eyes unmoved, by my downed sight
Potential, did I try to see in all
To be a good samaritan, I had tried
Though it is with humanity, that humility is eradicated
No matter my attempts to encourage
An ant opposing a boot, will I always be
My disappointment, have you only proved
To be a fool, I strived for you not to be
Your success, did I crave to see
Though chase my own tail, did you force me to
Exerted all my energy in runs, you showed no care
My belongings were not close, you manipulated my belief
A fool of me, did you purposely create
Murder as I watched, would be of no pain
The bullet I would provide, for whoever wished a shot
Though my eyes, saw little through the opacity
Your sharp hands, had your touch guised
In my fellow beings, was my faith strong
Through your blade, was it all lost
In humanity, was my faith a sight to behold
Though anger did you only ask through disappointment
To make a fool of me, your unseen blade chose
Through the mist ...
vision blurred by the bias of our views
clouding our reason
unable to walk in another men's shoes.
Blinded by the fog ...
thoughts offered by signs in hand
daring others to cross
convinced we are right, our dissenters lost.
War is declared ...
the air thick with opinion.
Battles commence ...
destruction of all that is held dear.
Guns blowing smoke
Swords red hot metal forged
Wrapped in the rising haze of heat
Voices raised dirty the streets.
Nowhere in sight ... clear rationale
no time to hear; no effort to see.
Air, a toxic mist, release the inner pain that i feel
eyes blinded by tears - no more chances, my friend.
Through the mist ...
no one hears.
This our reality when ideas supersede our fellow beings.
Through the mist ...
I see no love - hate guised as ideas.
Oh if they could see through the mist...
That is us on both sides of the street.
18~12~2014
Maurice Yvonne
Fate’s Game
by Odin Roark
Like innocent spray atop a tsunami curl,
You ride your controlled serendipity,
Delivering surety in an unexpected twist,
Destiny’s setup for drama that follows.
Never satiating your alacrity,
You fish-oil-coat your barbed cunning,
Slipping lathered lures easily
Down gullible throats of anticipation.
For you,
Making another landfall
Is just another layer
Added to your flotsam-beach theatrics,
Designed like playful foreshadowing
For a planned second and third act dénouement.
Oh how you chortle
Amid your game of certainty,
Bedding the unsuspecting like a predestinate,
A loan-out reality guised in wet dream duplicity,
Arousing our trust,
Yet never awarding a curtain call
Of our own choice.
Quandary persists.
After all,
Like nature’s often sardonic casting,
You are fate,
The ever-floating understudy,
An ineluctable wave-curl in waiting,
An unrevealed power we know not of
Until…
As my finger, triggers the sound
My heart ululates, in intoxication
Remembrance, is a gift in itself
Indescribable feelings, leading me forward
Being described, through each line I hear
Nostalgia, a joyous feat
The world's halt, is known
My feet, the only moment shown
Care for those who see, denied by the symphony
Where profanity bears no existence
A freed soul, does possess me
The understanding; mutualistic
Each word, mine as it is theirs
My mind, so accustom that copyright is forgotten
Add my own, I try
Though they who brought fame, made it gold
Treasures, will I never relinquish
A reprieve from my pain, offered through their show
Adrenaline, does it move me so
Motions, are they mine to control
My clothes, never asking to leave
To love, a possibility told once more
As they speak of great loss
Findings do resonate, in my being
The group, one with the groove
With pride they express, not chasing the background
Their voices, not guised by theatrics
Their arrival, a grace to my ears
Excessive sales, a want at most
To empathize with the listener, their only goal
Their personal lives, unquestioned
Hope is all I desire, from their shared experience
Never met, but always a friend
When others left, standing by in grief
Maybe my art, unmoving to them
Their art will remain timeless, to me
With my pain, have they empathized
A resonating nostalgia, plays through their timeless words
My findings, a cure to a cause
~Keshan~
Shadow’s Passion
by Odin Roark
A child’s imagination holds light’s oft guised presence in wonder,
As adult recklessly consume its flame of spirit and heart.
Left behind are ashes of once conscious pursuits
Now reduced to icy coals of ignorance
Once the far off enemy of reason.
However…
Our innately wired candles
Desperately protect the threatened glow,
While ravenous hunger continues insatiate,
Stretching, invading, smothering
Life’s illuminative entitlement and privilege.
As the nescient pandemic rages
Nature’s glimmer fights back,
Casting ever faithful shadows at first,
Preparing for revealment,
Inviting children with dreams to enjoin as companion and buddy
While unsullied conscience finds continuance
And its rightful chance.
Fortunately…
Enough will discover light’s natural purpose
Its perseverance in gradually presenting epiphany’s overhead moment
When the undeniable becomes a singular reality,
When shadow’s invisible passion is embraced,
Even as adulthood’s arrival often threatens imagination
Into an acquiescent and shadowless landscape.
What is oration --? To the speechless
As poet the pallet's still whet,
a quill in hand, her word reaches,
surely the rebel is not dead.
Some thought -- lost was the speechless
tongue,
And must now beseech her pardon ...
The Artist, lent voice through their eyes
As silent oration un-guised
Traveling in painted words for them,
Reaching the core, feeding it;
Her pages spoke in volumes heard,
Another mind opens and turned
The canto is quite atractive,
in comparison's blended prose
Within hearts, as kinships now rose...
In bed, I confessed the most
agonizing pain ever hidden
I kept it for so many years
whirling through my head
and guised as laughter
for all to see, but I couldn’t beam
with pride at having not
outperformed my weakness
You were not asleep
and I found a chance to spill it out
from my chest to yours
that I could put it to rest
Soon, silence fell against our will,
but I did understand a thing
The pain has been released,
shared for the very first time
Ah, I never remembered how
tearful I was last night
and who cares? I don't, ‘cause...
you were accenting,
warm and a good listener
rightly suits a troubled son