Best Inks Poems
A clicking clock is a sound warden. A stereo monologue of one syllable. Like an om om. But an om is neither an omega nor a nom nom. And nom noms are said to be as righteous as driving around a drive or a lane with a clear view in sight of a previously blanked out blanket trees. Blanket trees are so very comfortable. Great aren't they?. Loose leaf pillows and a solid base trunk. Unbelievable the sights and sounds of a sewing and knitting course. Click click then but no den made in a duplex pile of material crocheted hems. Cross patch then. Ha ha mr whippet playing with a block of blue ice cream. Ha mangled moöns drying after spin cycle. C v dancing with bodies in a clearing. Clap. Operatic ostriches neighing to ovations. X x x x x incineration z z z z
Form:
As I sit at the stroke of 3
In this lucubrator
And watch the flame of the candle flicker,
I sort through scraps of your heart
On old crumpled paper,
And listen to the hebetude
Of your written words
Promising me
Everything.
I feel a tear drop
From the corner of my eye
And land on the paper
Smearing the useless promises of the ink.
I take a hand full of the promises
And hold it just above the flame,
Boutefeu upon it.
I see the ink bubble
And watch as the paper turn darker
Till finally
Its nothing but ash.
As I burn the pile full of
Promises and dreams,
Written down for all to see…,
I also burn you
And everything you were to me.
For you were all a lie!
Lucubrator- a person who studies by night, or by candlelight.
Hebetude- dullness; bluntness; obtuseness; want of discernment.
Boutefeu- is a French word, and literally means “to set fire.”
In the workshop of my waking hours,
I am the maker of my own day,
Crafting moments with a DIY attitude,
Twisting fate's threads with hands unbound.
At 6 AM, I pick up my tools,
Coffee grounds and ambition,
Mixing the elixir of caffeinated dreams,
Stirring in the alchemy of determination.
The clock ticks, a relentless metronome,
11:11 winks, an angelic muse,
As if the universe has a sense of humor,
A cosmic jest in numerical ruse.
"Make a wish," they say with a smirk,
As if dreams were granted in seconds,
But I'll forge my own destiny, thank you,
With sweat and grit, not ethereal reckonings.
No celestial arithmetic can guide these hands,
Turning the wrench of daily toil,
In the cacophony of self-made symphonies,
I dance with chaos, a rebel in the coil.
Lunchtime, a respite from the assembly line,
Sandwiches wrapped in brown paper,
I nibble on the crumbs of inspiration,
Savoring the taste of self-made capers.
The afternoon sun spills its golden ink,
I dip my pen into the daylight,
Scrawling plans on the parchment of possibility,
Mapping out a future, bold and bright.
5 PM, the whistle blows, a release,
Yet the DIY Day is far from done,
For in the studio of the evening,
I sculpt my leisure, a masterpiece begun.
Dinner is a feast of flavors and reflection,
A banquet of self-appreciation,
11:11 appears again, a cosmic wink,
Mocking the notion of divine intervention.
"Make a wish," it whispers with a smirk,
But I've outgrown such whimsical fancy,
For in the sweat of creation and the grind of will,
I find my muse, not in numbers but in the dance of circumstance.
So, here's to the makers of their own destiny,
The dreamers who wrested the real from fantasy,
In the DIY symphony of moments and minutes,
We find our purpose, our own sweet serendipity.
she is a rendering in darker inks of lighthearted subjects
the eloquently illustrated surrealistic seduction of the heart
demure yet ravishing sexualization
the ideal of beauty offering itself up like a sacrifice
at the alter of some wanton hedonistic temple to gods of lust
she looks up at me from her practiced good girl gone naughty dream
and tells me that she wants me
wants it all to be perfect
like in the paris magazines
wants it all to be crafted in perfumed perfection
near to goddess as human can be
she is rendered in darker inks
but i am captivated by the lovely
entranced by the beautiful
enraptured by the perfection
as only darker inks can be
When peeling a roasted peanut take great care. It is often said to be the beginning if a shell cracks. It is to release. To exact the tension thus administering justice in panned out wisdom cups of cloven joo. A moo can be very intelligent for it can form a six mile circle which a wheel cannot break. Eating and playing doesn't show respect for edibles. But gardening is wise to pull out the weeds in the mind. Creating calmness calling calm. Causing cakes colliding clapping chaos. Chapters in chapels. And a big bap balanced. Gifted are fifty foot breasts on legs who arrive in mini dresses. Now all singing "puck peck baa puck peck baa hugh heeled moo in a very fast car". Tis merely the rhythmic essences then. Ostriches swim in lakes in the moon whilst goats can dive off planets. Question bit a dancing baboon or a prancing pig for both enjoy air and water is often used for flotation processes. Opening opened onions unions d hug egg fried rice xxxx pudding pouting...*** can one light up now. Northerly.....*** z. Illegal indoctrinating llamas. Xx queue ball..*** vaporised visions xx nil.
Form:
Hop skip jump laugh and dance then for fear feeds fragile fornicating frogs. And as spots are squeezed and pus ejected. The falsities beneath are plainly on display. No more hiding in boiled bumps. Serving stewing stakes stairs stained stares. Minding the ever increasing corners of protruding print processions. Flags held high. Over twenty thousand feet. But no boots in sky paths. And no grass coloured cloud could ever play a clarinet. Now before I eat an egg with toast I must clarify one thing. The radius of a fridge freezer is measured only by balancing pillows on one's head and playing monopoly with the cupboard doors. Drawers are excluded. Denied access you see. Due their un orderly ways. It is very disrespectful to the spoons. Hook then a towel. And spear sausages. Goodbye and goodnight. Many eras. Many moons. Many mandalas. Haha candlelit tables dancing in mid air. Haha hows the horse? Hmmm indoctrinated intoxicated introverted ignorant insect. And a beef cutlet wit melon jus. *** institutionalised z a big Z
Form:
Inks
Ahead
up under
The One
we wonder
To Ask
the question
And Receive
a blessing
No Answer
just signs
No Words
just inks
Unspoken solution
A-nnual
J-oy
I-s
E-xpressed
O-nce
L-itterateur
I-nks
L-ovely
A-crostic
Topic: Birthday of Ajie Olila (April 01)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic