Best Interferes Poems
EVE OF STORMS
As I look towards the horizon,
Without hesitation,
But with determined yet
Heartfelt trepidation,
And see a distant angry
Storm forging forth
Its spluttering vicious curvaceous
Fearful advance holds my gaze
With historical ageless
Heartfelt emotions,
That sink and dive,
And furl and curl,
Knowing no one may survive!
Poseidon and Neptune take centre stage,
And Eve of storms unleashes wrath,
Tempts oceans rage!
The beginning of time
Is about to meet Mythology
Eternity about to clash
With oceans and Astrology
The mystical ocean gods,
Meet Eve, the beginning of human
Temptation, against all odds!
The reptile has achieved
Its evil aim and intent,
Causing chaos and fear
Alone is it’s content.
The gods call upon God our Maker
To drown the serpent tormentor,
And quell this tidal wave
Ten storeys tall,
About to wipe out all,
This massive water wall!
Eve of Storms has angered God
She had already lost the keys
To Paradise, now interferes
With Poseidon and Neptune,
The gods of seas,
God the omnipresent and the
Only truth sends Eve back to Earth,
Is Eve of Storms,
Fiction, or myth people say,
But to this day
Whilst looking up
At starlit skies
We are no more the wise!
In England’s pleasant pastures amid the free wild flowers
Lie pagan ways the wise ones do not mock
And one adept at harnessing these ancient rural powers
Was Oggwool Fleece, the black sheep of the flock
Oggwool was old, much older than the old oak it was said
Beneath whose boughs the dark sheep’s plans are sealed
‘Twas said the sheep had come back from the other side of dead
With the darkness in that corner of the field.
The farm hands better knew to venture in the oak’s strange shade
Or to the long grass that the darkness gripped
Where Oggwool lurked amid the spells and potions he had made
A sheep unshorn and magically undipped.
Not limited by four hooves in working his deft skill
Unhindered in ambitious sheepish plans
Harnessing the dark elves to do his dark sheep will
Dexterously with little dark elf hands.
From that darkened corner of that English country field
His influence extends itself outside
His arcane woolly web through which his mystic powers wield
Reaching parts and persons spread worldwide
He has extensive vineyards in Italy and Spain,
He has mining operations in Peru
He owns a flock of ostriches down in the Ukraine
(Although he never quite intended to)
He’s engineering world events on scales beyond the ken
He has his hooves in business of all kinds
He interferes remorselessly in world affairs of men
With night-time thoughts drip-fed to human minds
Little green men fly through space in saucers flat and round
On interstellar missions without cease
But on their furthest journey yet, their enterprise is bound
To the ever growing plans of Oggwool Fleece
The politicians spin their words and armies shoulder arms
And yet do not beyond their small acts see
But Oggwool Fleece with thistle skills and other sheepwise charms
Is planning how to rule a galaxy!
~Artistic Touch~
Go down on my thoughts
taste my perception
Touch me in all non
physical ways
I need what is considered
to be the exception
Show my heart colors
in brilliant arrays
Give me artistic
orgasms in multiple
Let enlightenment drip
from my ears
Others may find it to be
incomprehensible
Don't let touch be
what interferes
THE PARADOX OF PROGRESS
Communication has been around since the dawn of man,
It’s evolved from smoke signals and the beating of drums,
Hieroglyphics gave rise to alphabets and the written word,
Along came the inventions of the telephone, fax and intercom.
We had Morse code, the pony express and radio,
Which eventually gave rise to TV,
Homing pigeons used to carry messages,
And truckers would converse on their CB’s.
The world has gotten smaller and more connected since,
The phone was invented by Alexander Graham Bell,
But he never dreamed that one day,
You’d be able to access the internet and send a text on your cell.
Recently, I observed 5 people at a table, having lunch,
So it was quite obvious that they were not alone,
Yet those same 5 people were oblivious to each other,
Because all of them were using their cell phones.
With the continuous advancement of communication,
The population feels the need to always be in touch,
But when it interferes with face to face conversation,
When does texting, facebook and email become way too much?
These days, people bring their tablets and I-phones,
And other mobile devices wherever they go,
With the touch of a screen or the push of a button,
We’ve become addicted to sharing all sorts of info.
Quite often when someone is in the company of other people,
And their device prompts them for something to be viewed,
Their attention is diverted, and they ignore the people they’re with,
And most people would agree this is quite rude.
With the advent of social media technology,
Mobile devices have caught on like wildfire,
But at the same time, it seems that,
People’s social skills are lacking, and something to be desired.
Technology is certainly a marvelous thing,
And it is definitely here to stay.
But while we are in the company of others around us,
Let’s all be courteous and put our devices away.
Why should the mimic apologize?
Where are the cupboards?
Where are the wages?
Where is the tailor? I had
no use for algebra, I knew it-
in as much incognito on a prefabricated track,
in order that....
free thinking then supposing,
til warning for dreamless help provided,
a typewritten treat from this meditative cell on
a bi-directional night, just as incensing this layer, once
shouting, against kaleidoscoped winds...
Will the dubious cartoon walk on top of the comparison?
or will the prevailing keystroke provoke a smashing debt?
Their marriage possessed an alcoholic copyright.
just as the about face twists the rear....
A wizard paces..... surveying the blackboard
just when a scholar stands,
and rocks across a page, so that unless
Some author squeezes, a western dialect,
lest now his leisure violates,
a once welcomed, road of gold on the critical side, in as much until
and even faster still, a projecting spontaneous cricket,
now in a graveyard embarrassed by his wasteful song,
messy thoughts, broken prized belief,
sweeping away the cheat,
disregarding the window from the top,
so that a porter yawns,
outside the offending captor, who wears a wolf pendant,
underneath the inside havoc, if only
the technology collapses before
the funerals, thick attack, talk on top,
of frozen outlines, and a leather sofa cracked,
from opinions changing, as correspondence leaked,
so behind smoke, a fire of desire lurking near the conflicting repertoire,
next to the guilty bystander, raining like a thief, now interferes, who
stirs the sticks... across the crossroads,
Can the music spin the guilty onto a bandwagon until the other staggering strangers advancing,
to the next fizzy, dizzy, bog...
while guides await in order to assault corrupted fantasies,
beside crystal strips, where rusty knights in armor, sitting on a park bench
trying every half measure,
disturbing breezes,
in the haze of memories. Stir these random thoughts and let their impressions talk to you and one another.
Who knows how the mind really works?
(Gail's Note: Reply Email from Subby Conscience is the sequel to this.)
To: Subby Conscience
From: gadeb@zzzsmail.com
Re: Communication between You and Me
Date: February 4, 2012
Why isn't it easy to call you at will?
Couldn't I just Twitter or email you until
You provide the answer in clear, solid terms
So that I don't have to lie in your chaotic squirms?
Instead, you tug at my psyche
And laugh at my logic.
You taunt and tug at my struggles
And sap my dream tonic.
You expose my repression
While disguised as a friend
All the while sneaking around
In my personal REM.
A swirl of feelings
Interferes with the theme.
Makes my heart pound and pound.
Makes it seem like a scheme
To interrupt sleep
And destroy my 8 hours.
To wither my psyche
And sap super powers.
And then comes the waiting
Sometimes for years
Of what this all means
Could it always be fear?
But unknown to you
Over time you are helping
To harness the pounding
And process all my days' yelpings
So that I can function in the AM and more
While you are repressed as
I cozily soar.
Published in PS: It's Still Poetry
Volume II
Some folks love doing their thing
And it brings in money and bling!
Just let me make hay
The conservatives say
Even when it gives others a sting
Do people all have basic rights?
Are some blown away like lost kites?
It seems there’s no end
Of a bad mess to mend
And liberals take on these fights
Author's Note: When the right to make a ton of bucks interferes with other rights that people have--watch out. I get particularly offended by people who exercise their freedom (and by doing so) interfere with my right to clean air and water and freedom from intrusive smells and noise. This argument can be extended to a variety of situations. Where do your rights end and mine begin? This is the tip of a massive iceberg (which could be melting due to global warming).
I have been lied to, cheated on, and verbally abused,
I have been heartbroken and used.
I have been second best when I thought I was first,
Goes to show you how little you're worth.
I have been attacked for no reason by another woman,
Because she was having sex with my man.
I felt like a fool for giving my whole heart,
To someone who only ripped it apart.
Mentally I'm damaged beyond repair,
Emotionally scarred from thinking they cared.
I had many tell me what they thought I wanted to hear to keep me around,
When I was at my lowest point they were the ones kicking me deeper into the ground.
I was depressed and felt all alone,
Still don't understand how people are cruel the reasons are still unknown.
The memories are still tainted til this day,
Wish all of the anger would go away.
I have a lot of issues I'm trying to work through,
People analyze me and criticize me when they don't even have a clue.
Doesn't matter how much you care about someone it's never enough,
Because they just used you as a stepping stone because they're life was tough.
Whatever they can get by with, they will do,
Assuring you that they loved you.
At times I second guess what is real,
Because that's the only way I know how to feel.
It left me feeling hopeless, like what's the point,
My whole body was hurting even my joints.
I was always the only one giving,
While they were steadily taking.
Just never understood how I could be treated this way,
That's why the past interferes with my present til this day.
May 10, 2014
~The One and Only~
Angrily, rain enfolds the insular rise of lawn undulating.
Anglers dream, envious fishermen, inside looking out urging
apostles, who elope within imaginary onslaughts, hooked unburdening's.
Aloft, thunder encounters lightening's insistent taunt, oracles fearsome uttering's.
And still, each fisherman's innermost summoning orchestrates this untoward
atmospheric downfall, each drop induced, prayerful, outpouring is underscored.
Admittedly many envious housebound inmates seek oceans, lakes, unexplored
although, the earthly torrent interferes pitiless, onerous, rainfall unleashed.
Absent the energizing rays introduced by ordinary sun, undone
are these enigmatic men in rooms, oar less, ship-less, landlubbers unconsoled.
Another day encases them indoors mooning over fish uncontrolled.
A trophy earned, stuffed, indisputably shows offerings untold.
Ah, fishtails energetically rise incensed by objections never unabridged
absent their earnest wives, imagination rolls on winds un-curtailed.
People say it's too late for us...
As we get of life's bus,
And travel our separate directions;
But our sparks are disguised as explosions.
All we want is to love but time interferes,
And distance serves as loves boundaries...
It is said love come slow...
And we little time before we go.
If it is to be love will prevail,
But regret will make us fail.
I wish I could tell you but I know not how.
If only you would read this here and now...
Dreamy eyes command my stare
Fingers tangled in my hair
Magical allure
Chemistry galore
Quivering happening everywhere
Lips lock as passion lights from within
Yearning to feel skin on skin
Clothing disappears
Nothing interferes
Causing an all consuming tail spin
Arms and legs sweetly entangled
New positions delightfully angled
Fervent desire
Appetites afire
All senses blissfully jangled
Totally surrendering to blazing bliss
Flames ignited by a sweltering kiss
Relinquished control
Amazingly whole
Drowning willingly into sweet abyss
Wondrous moments triggers trance
After effects makes cells dance
Intense connection
Passionate perfection
Finding match does pleasure enhance
11/14/2015
* Life should be full of passion, excitement and moments that take your breath away, living and loving life to its fullest I will always continue to strive for.
He is the one who walks upon it.
Hallowed...from the sacrifice that passed it on.
Home...from infant life that still reposes
in the body. There, it will entreat
with that fair eloquence the body politic
employs--all torn from old nobility
that blood bears in its stream, enriched
from fragments that the heart
has stored away--the jagged memories,
the tears of those we loved,
the bells that sang from towers
still remembered as the years sink down.
It resurrects the dead, this fatherland
that cries for loyalty; its cunning
tries the patient, trips up the ingenue
who sees what is supposed to be
and not what is. It fosters bravery
and blindness, soars upon the winds
of rhetoric, and casts its stones
with khaki kindness at a world
that interferes.
God bless the citizen who follows
on the highway where the marchers
said goodbye, took up their arms,
and faded in the far-off sky. God bless
his vision of returning...bless the faith
he musters for the heroes nigh
at that far turn ahead,
still washed in that pale emptiness
disclosed across the evening sun.
He is the watcher, still,
who hears the bells, and hums along
expectantly...
He is the blessed one.
~
Blue flowers plucked
Nyona bak chang** moments;
Satisfying rice cakes
By this old fence
Echoes of giggles;
Laughter mocks schoolyard
Road diversion
Roundabout detour;
Long cul de sac
Wedding festivities
Details and stuff;
Final agenda looms
Joy wears a face
Celebration evokes;
Certain gratification
Flame of the Forest tree
Nice shady bough;
Rain drops seeping
This old site
Venue of past demeanours;
Regret and guilt linger
Windy day
Hair reconfigured;
Unkempt spikes
In sure fashion
Nothing stays the same;
Change interferes
Wind howling
A haunting refrain;
Ghostly echoes cry
New instance
Go the distance;
Ply resistance
Do not be
Afraid of fear;
It's just an old gripe
Old apartments
Need a facelift;
Time weathers pains
Leon Enriquez
03 August 2014
Singapore
(Notes: Nyona bak chang** --
The word "Nyona" means a Straits born Chinese lady
with the social graces of a genteel sort, who are
known as a Nyona from a distinct group called the
Peranakans, who have a mixed heritage of Chinese and
Malay customs and traditions. This is today a dying breed.
The word "bak chang" means a cooked food product
made from glutinous rice with a centre filled with
sweet pork meat, spices and sauce, and chestnuts, packed in
long leaves in the shape of a pyramid tied with strings.
Such delicacies are steamed until the aroma fills the
air and makes you desirous to eat these tasty morsels.
The natural tinge of blue colour on the glutinous rice comes
from the "blue flowers" freshly picked for use in these rice cakes.
My maternal grandmother was a Nyona lady who had
a big heart, a warm smile and who loved me very dearly.
I miss her smile though she died when I was only four.)
There is a head game
that none of us wants but
it's there anyway.
There is a head game
that interferes with what we are trying
(in all of our fumbling ineptitude) to say.
There is a head game
that distracts us from quality of life
to
the quantity of stuff for which we must pay.
There is a heart game
that giggles and grins and cares....
I wanna go that way.
Apocalyptic sight
Six pairs of Homeric children’s eyes
Over the tomb of ice gray world
Multiply my infinite sorrow into sins with no eyes or ears
In tangents of nostalgia
I kiss the death there that life suffers lung cancer
Biblical accusation pierces the silence of solitary harp in the Century of Hamlet’s
Four soaked tears eyes
Cannot set in a web of art neither in the depth of tired aquarelle eyes
The old childhood love into triangle breaths depth
Shed tears in salt of survival
In the geometry of continents
Time impasse like me in the Scandinavian saga
Logical mathematics does not capture lines neither feast of hieroglyph tears
The root of injustice divides only parents' pain
Above the European dried moral
Six pairs of eyes and four pairs of eaves accuse
They live autumn of loneliness
Any number does not define emblem of loneliness
Not even a prayer of compassion
Cosine of loneliness interferes in verses and the poetry of human love
And the death doesn’t suffer the reception
because I draw lines while remaining just a number