Best Indubitable Poems
In Aussie-land dwell the marsupials
By night they paint the town connubial
They make them a joey
Named Zoey or Chloe
Neighbors jump for joy indubitable
They must have thought that I was brought here to do the numbers....
Ninty-nine's einsteinium square dance razzle dazzle then you shuffle a masque ?
Halloween arrived although ushering in an unknown, mutation towards
These centripetal forces ? Ancient's prophecy to bring into fold of trembling
Foretold standing at their threshold love's thresher; combatant the messenger
If all else shall fail ? Indubitable, unto His heavens as her Angels whom know..
Quietus with hands full of good tidings this heart and a golden marionette ?
Crossing inevitables Mason-Dixon line; cyber space Spirits humanity; poetics Waterloo.
Youth,
Zeus’ thunderbolt of vitality, you are,
The volcanic eruption of vigor,
The very incarnation of liveliness,
Your passion unrivaled
Your spirit indubitable
Your enthusiasm insurmountable
On the horseback of your dreams you
Are galloping
Unafraid
Uncompromising
Unstoppable, to the ends
Of the world,
Overcoming every fear
Demolishing every boundary
Obliterating every division
And
Running always ahead-FREE- with a speed determined by
Your eagerness to
Do all
To see all
To know all
To conquer all
BUT
You are not realizing that you, inadvertently, are
Heading towards what you do not wish for,
Something you so greatly despise,
That your heart abhors and
Your spirit dreads: OLD AGE
However
Do not… despair my young friends
For
The privilege of getting old, is something
NOT bestowed on everyone!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
22 FEBRUARY 2014
MAN’S LIFE
Man’s life:
The jumping out of a plane resembles
Right Into the arms of gravity’s demands
That anxiously pulls him onto the ground
As his prevailing destiny commands
No parachute on his back is to be found
For him to avoid the inevitable impact
So he must soon find a way to escape
Before all his hopes are really whacked
Between the plane and the ground though
A distance, short or long, to cover must have
That definitely indicates the length of his life
That no-one, certainly, has the right to halve
The drama of Man has though just started
As he has no command over his will
But the glory of his indubitable spirit
It makes him stand up and never kneel
He laughs at his own condemnation
And proudly declares: I am here to live
I do not care when my fall is over
Fear in my heart I'll never forgive
He begins enjoying his hastening falling
As he makes plans myriad dreams to fulfill
My works, with all his force, triumphantly shouts:
Even when I go, here they are going to be still
Thus Man victorious of life’s adventure emerges
Having beaten all odds and the fear of death
A monument is he now of wisdom and valor
Since never gives up till his very last breath!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
14 OCTOBER 2013
Life is an origin creation
Death is a final destination.
Someone says, life depends on humans' fate
But for me, life depends on how you to create.
Thinking how to against the destiny
But in the end, you'll need to face the reality.
Says, fate believers have faith like an open shrine
Like life as nice as fine, death as a destined sign.
Fate exists, but it is not indubitable guideline.
Like some spiritually martial I read and saw
Within the operation of the heavenly devine law
Even the best destiny will have always some flaw.
The world is always moving.
The universe repeatedly rotating.
Like strength and weakness are hard to separate
Life and death will eventually meet.
Human is mortal but perpetual
Soul is mystical but eternal.
Both of them are imperishable
As life and death unceasingly cycle.
A Foreigner in a land of chicanery, can't see the forest nor
destiny aimlessly adrift tween dusky skylines searching
'pon comet-like nights, 'neath the shine of absurdity
mistaking stardust for certainty, there was an inkling
once upon a brief interlude 'tween misconceptions,
when the sun ravished moonbeams and earth split
its gravitational force wrenching an indubitable forfeiture,
examining life from otherwise similar sides of continuum's
unfathomable folds, careening beyond askew gradient elucidations
into abstruse significance 'midst hallelujah inferences weeping,
misleading each sway of deceptive constructs yielding complexities'
mid psychotic beliefs, invariably questioning timeless persuasions
DID YOU SAY RESURRECTION OR ********?
Pardon me Mister Sinister Minister
But you are not so much teaching as you are screeching and reaching
While preaching to the choir about brimstone and fire
As I deem you a damnable liar
And a prodigal prostitute who should be destitute
While I remain resolute against your irreverent and irrelevant irregularities
And you raise my ire to a dire decibel
Because I am not a disciple
Nor am I a member of your congregation
Because you are an abhorrent aberration whom I abhor
You unholy whore
Your soul on the whole is the goal of a ghoul
And I anoint you a fallacy and a freakish fool
While you duel with a demon whose semen is sanctimonious and erroneous
And I point to the error of your wretched ways
Until the end of days
You serve an ironic idol who is an iconoclastic and bombastic bastard I berate with hate who makes me irate…..
And whose fate is forecast by the force of a phallic symbol symbolized by the simple minded followers of a fraud
Who, quite frankly, leaves me abominably bored
An impossible imposter who fosters the phoniness of a fake who can’t make a pretender into the defender of the defenseless
Only the senseless hordes of impious who hear and believe the pretense you preach about
And fill me with undiluted and indubitable doubt
Because someone should wash your mouth out with soap
Hang you on the end of a rope
As you grope with grievance for the allegiance of the almighty
Since your facts are based on flightiness and reprehensible rhetoric scorned by the sensible and seen for the tripe it is
Ripe and rife with ridiculous conclusions
And the illusions of illusive, insidious, insipid and all inconclusive information
As I repeat
I am not a member of your congregation
Mr. Sinister Minister of misery and miserly compassion
Whose ration of ridiculousness is reclusive and replete with completely indecisive and indelicate ideologies
And what you preach and teach about is simply old hat
And so Mister Sinister Minister
Take that!
© 2012….copyright..PHREEPOETREE...~free cee!~
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it's really not bad at all, it seems false advertising is the only way i get any numbers despite the fact that i write the truth so well:
DID YOU SAY RESURRECTION OR ********?
Pardon me Mister Sinister Minister
But you are not so much teaching as you are screeching and reaching
While preaching to the choir about brimstone and fire
As I deem you a damnable liar
And a prodigal prostitute who should be destitute
While I remain resolute against your irreverent and irrelevant irregularities
And you raise my ire to a dire decibel
Because I am not a disciple
Nor am I a member of your congregation
Because you are an abhorrent aberration whom I abhor
You unholy whore
Your soul on the whole is the goal of a ghoul
And I anoint you a fallacy and a freakish fool
While you duel with a demon whose semen is sanctimonious and erroneous
And I point to the error of your wretched ways
Until the end of days
You serve an ironic idol who is an iconoclastic and bombastic bastard I berate with hate who makes me irate…..
And whose fate is forecast by the force of a phallic symbol symbolized by the simple minded followers of a fraud
Who, quite frankly, leaves me abominably bored
An impossible imposter who fosters the phoniness of a fake who can’t make a pretender into the defender of the defenseless
Only the senseless hordes of impious who hear and believe the pretense you preach about
And fill me with undiluted and indubitable doubt
Because someone should wash your mouth out with soap
Hang you on the end of a rope
As you grope with grievance for the allegiance of the almighty
Since your facts are based on flightiness and reprehensible rhetoric scorned by the sensible and seen for the tripe it is
Ripe and rife with ridiculous conclusions
And the illusions of illusive, insidious, insipid and all inconclusive information
As I repeat
I am not a member of your congregation
Mr. Sinister Minister of misery and miserly compassion
Whose ration of ridiculousness is reclusive and replete with completely indecisive and indelicate ideologies
And what you preach and teach about is simply old hat
And so Mister Sinister Minister
Take that!
© 2012….copyright..PHREEPOETREE...~free cee!~
Tulips and lilies never smelled
so fragrantly inebriating
by the lake of the half-moon,
I sense the ineffable mystery
of an alluring and serene evening;
remote breezes so unforeseen
and unquestionably redolent
slightly touch the motionless surface
of the silvery and bluish lake so comely
and limpid while drowsy oaks and spruces
sway their long and thick branches...
as if silence were an act of reverence!
In the deserted town strangely
someone sits on the bend of the lake
of the half-moon as he stares
at the luminescent Northern Star
striking the strings of his guitar
with his skilled, young fingers...
suddenly everything harmonizes
with his beautifully played melody,
but he's so amazed by the splendor of the lake
of the half-moon that he doesn't hesitate
to join the invisible nightingales to praise
the indubitable presence of the Creator!
I would love nothing more than to be hers
with a smile that fractures my sanity
i question the need of all medication
when after all she is my cure
and doctors are baffeled by incontrovertible indubitable proof
that my heart beats in morse code
to spell ouut, her name
Thump thump.. thump thump.. thump.... flatline
Now my abused heart can take a break
lashed with whips, it shrivled in fear
too scared to seek the love it dreamed to meet
now without a beat i live
Because, shes has given me a new reason to live
and taken by the wind, i swept her off her feet
and told her that I will walk upon the this broken glass,
for us
take your time, for love is never planned
So I'll be here holding you if and
when you make the decision to stand
i will let you go
but if i am ever so lucky to have you whole
i promise to never to let you go
And make you All-Mines
The world in generality
as to the knowledge of known knower
in between reasons, senses and perceptions
is a matter of clarity
on becoming merry
as oppose to being merry
The matter of worldly parameter
is of dictating representation
of liberating indoctrination
in attaining truth
despite the contingent sublimity
and deciphering the apparent symbols of parables
in order
as if by fashion
to arrive to an indubitable state of merriment
Cirque Calder Family
Lonely this
My restless paint blobs
Absorbing precious air
Risking dehydration
Moisture deprived patience
Waiting atop my platform
Resting precariously upon cut wire
And tapered metal sheets
Awaiting tomorrow's work load
Master catnaps
Sprawled beside more wire and metal sheets
While real cat
Possesses Master's bedding
Her throne
Her mattress
All around
Bright colors crave daybreak
As studio fans drift their meager air
Turning delicate shapes meekly
Their kinetic fulcrums never idle
Other imaginings stand stoical in ring two
While ring one and three
Await trapeze figures
String ropes adrift
Large nocturnal mobiles
Idle patiently
Reflecting unfinished Big Top pieces
Table and floor installations
Galleries waiting
Catching moonlight
Wall doodles and sketches
Tarry further inspiration
Like my inspiration
The indubitable smell
Texture
Emotion
Only my paint dapples
Smeared on his faithful
Monsieur Palette can provide
Of course
Beside me
Always beside me
Tireless Pinch Nose
Holds I'm fay
Tough guy
Pliered twisting and crunching
Bent on convincing me
We're just tools
Says he
Not so
Says the Master
You're part of family
And so it goes
Brief respites
While imagination
Envisions its next
To be
Illusory reality
Remaining child-like
Understanding little of rest
A catnap?
Maybe
First and foremost on the agenda,
would be to locate an affordable,
casual and favorable eatery
tubby agreeable to our taste
indubitable choice without
(any formal dress code),
nor further haste.
Strait away to the great weigh
(or if vegetarian – whey)
station of delectable food
where the exquisite, expertise, and exotic
high steak king a claim on Michelin Guide,
Gayot Guide/Gault Millau, American
Automobile Association, Forbes
Travel Guide reputation good.
Testimony to legendary praise
explaining why patrons travel
for countless days
transforming him/her
into steady state,
where he/she shuffles along
in a dishabille quotidian famished daze
far and wide culinary craze
out of this world wide web, the wispy Lyft
wafts trace steamy filament up braise
our noses,
whereat heads nod affirmation i.e. ayes.
Even before making a glad entrance
(into Restaurant) complete
a host of fresh, enticing,
and delicious aromas serve as a treat.
Delicate, foreign, hefty indescribable
ole factory stimulants delight
infiltrating thru swinging kitchen doors
holding us smell bound,
though thin filaments invisibly light.
Back in day (of ma
mum, and perhaps
since time immemorial)
utterances of physicians
nsync with Staff of Asclepius
pounded against floor,
(which wrought
life to entwined serpent,
whose beady
eyed hypnotic power)
understandably
ranked doctors among
near mythical powerful
Gods, who ought
best not be ignored, thus
(then a young Harriet Harris,
now long since deceased)
felt overbearing heft of
medical practitioners final words,
and subsequently would nought
refute, ignore, nor
dispute sacred commandment
hence would n'er be accused
of sacrilegious immodesty,
impiety, or impropriety
(towards medical institution),
and never doubt voice
most supreme in the universe,
thus she felt caught
against challenging authority
meekly surrendered
her only son, bought
with bargaining chip
indubitable faith
in omnipotent equip
ment with hocus
pocus magic to flip
precious life humming along,
or force death grip
upon a lovely boy (christened
Matthew Scott Harris),
at present lapsed beet hip
pea hooping to stave
off crossing the lip
of LX bracket, there
fore reckons a nip
and tuck (think
prefrontal lobotomy),
asper when just a pip
squeak ushered,
where mine existence
could be mortgaged
with accidental,
(or purposeful) slip
of the knife, while
under anesthetized trip
returning minus a mass of
enlarged lymphatic tissue
between the back of
the nose and the throat.
How like a prison is my cubicle;
A prison,a trap, a cell,a place of fear.
For humans,this is truth indubitable;
We need to roam ,to see,to smell,to hear.
Yet in the bureaucrat realm , we must observe,
The rules laid down by generations gone.
And from their ancient code we cannot swerve.
Even if by rules we are undone.
Did Euclid discover how grave was a bath?
Did Moses fear to see the burning bush?
Did Einstein follow someone’s else’s path?
Did Socrates give voice to utter trash?
Imprisoned spirits are to revolution called.
Lest by Ariel they should be mauled.