Best Its Business Poems
Day dawned dank grey.
Sky pre-washed to ashen, cuddled in.
Cats on tippy-toes dipped their toes in puddles
stalking prey, huddled to pause, slumbering in.
Birds ruffled dew drop spots from feathers,
distracted to pause their prattle tattle calls
by the gloom of low slung clouds engulfing the din.
The dank cupped hands of horizon clouds
called for hush in prayer
to say grace with the morning gathering, all misted-in in fog.
The dewy gossamer mist turned to gentle rain,
almost embarrassed
to fall with pitter-patter plinks and plops
echoing from puddles, leaves and panes.
The shower done with its drenching, quenching drizzle,
passed overhead
and curtain-called the sun to get up,
to stand to attention,
and to herald the day
to get on with its business.
I passed a squirrel
on a two-lane back road
that a car had run over
Some rule was broken...
Its front legs scratched and scraped
at the pavement but it was stuck
like glue, flat on the asphalt
Its head was bobbing
up and down, side to side
(Surely there was no pain?)
Damn it ALL, you little...
Slammed on the brakes
skidded to the side of the road
made an illegal 3 point turn
Returning to the scene of the crime,
I crushed the head of God’s creation
turning it into fresh buzzard food
turning it back home to its Creator
This creature did not have it coming
This creature did not deserve it
This creature was as good or better
than me or any other human being
God's child minded its business
God's child never hurt anyone
God's child of Nature's symphony
might have done the same for me
God's child had no clue
it was crossing a road
or even what a road was
but I did…
The dark continent; a place of extremes
where the sun rises early and surprises me with its intensity.
In between can be found the stuff of life at every level,
whilst beneath my feet the red soil heaves with life
as the insect microcosm dashes about its business,
before the white heat commands them into the shadows.
All around, the vegetation stands tall and proud,
as if trying to be the first to touch the sun
and birdsong fills the heavy air
perfumed by the breath of exotic spices.
How can this be the dark continent
when every sight that blesses my eyes is brighter,
bolder, painted with brushes not of my earth?
yes, the skins are intensely black, blue-black
But when the smile which adorns every beautiful face
grins – and bursts open to reveal two perfect rows of pearls
the infection is passed to the viewer
who now sees only brilliant light
as the soul is finally revealed.
These people, wearied by poverty and bowed by blind politics
nonetheless walk tall and proud
as if trying to be the first to touch the sun
standing head and shoulders above
our stiff-necked dissatisfactory lives.
If Africa is the dark continent
then I am suddenly in love with blackness
and I fear for the dimming light
which bathes my homeland.
Waves crash on the rocky shore
Beyond the dunes there is moor
This land knew both peace and war
In ironic and insipid clash with calm on ocean floor
Is storm on the land in full fury
But it will blow over without becoming truly angry
It will give golden fields of grain
Much needed rain
Standing like a beacon on a hill
Is a large windmill
Nearby there is stone ring
Build by some ancient king
In the center of the meadow
Casting a shadow
There is birch tree
Who’s subtle leaves project mysterious majesty
The tree is testament to time
And the whole island is defined by time
It stands alone in vast ocean but not as vast as time
It is also forgotten by time
But what makes it sublime
When you watch birch tree you can almost smell time
When you remember it as a small shoot now a tree
And on the mainland how things have changed you see
But here noting is different than before
Windmill still stands upon the hill nearby rocky shore
The coral reef still ornaments ocean floor
Stone ring replaces calendar as it did millenniums before
But there is more
Time here is different than on any other shore
Defined by orb of light
It is longer than in any other light
Time is absolute
Everything in it its business will execute
But number previously absolute
Here will grow for this is light’s attribute
And previously absolute number will nourish like a rain
That falls on the golden grain
It will nourish the neural flame
Whose status timeless became
In time everything gets old
The tree the windmill the grains of gold
But in stone ring flame will not dissipate in time
Because it is in cahoots with very time
Wisdom can be contained in a rectangular prism
but if summoned it commeth forth surpassing any intention
making its limits endless when it starts it never is finished
and all against it is defenseless hence it handles its business
to go against it would be senseless since it thoroughly mentions
its vengeance is intensive to the point where no one can vent it
and it replenishes itself learn and you'll be a witness
to its insintive couse wisdom comes from another demintion
and its cousin is Knowledge but not the Knowledge of college
a knowledge that's polished with logic that can only be solid
it's like a wallet full of dollars but is not of the pocket
and it's fondest of surprises but its prizes are promised
to be diagnostically honest on whatever the topic
diabolical Know it all an argument is uncommon
acknowledge that like its cousin it can not be abolished
only wisdom can mock it also know that wisdom is wisest
Love at Any Rate
Love at
any rate
Can make you
Feel low
Down
And dirty
Shame
What happens
Next a neuron
Fired or quit
Working right
Then and there
Went the neighborhood
Where Sarah Belle ummm...
Lived but for
Got
Why
Memory
Jogging
Or refreshed this
Time
Is up
And running
Up and running
Up and
Run for your life
Went on
About its business
Casual
Tea is empty
Ness that dragon
Loch and cay
Puff like magic
And it's gone
At any rate
it came along.
This Life's Journey
One day it will cease to continue.
The lights of its streets will turn off,
And the sounds of its business will vanish.
Wether you will be ready or not,
It Won't matter, your clock will stop
And you will rest, eternally!
All that you have worked hard for
Will be left to be shared
Either peacefully or violently.
Food and drinks will be served
And tears will flow with broken hearts;
It will be an end of an era.
Live the moments, cherish the memories,
Tomorrow is just a day that may never be
And you may never know.
Statues of Darwin
David J Walker
Cayotes claim what they can of
The daylight hours hounded by the
Windblown November sun
Below the Mesa
No better than the
Blazing days of the summer
Only colder
Every rock looks the same
Every plant a chameleon
Every insect a meal in a race for
Its life
Here the world is cruelly honest
About its business and
Indifference to death
Here, life is recycled
Without ceremony nor prayer
Language needs no interpretation
Reading is seeing and reacting
And each species erects its own
Statues of Darwin
Five Shades of Anthracite
Triads of black white and grey in the middle colour in above and out within
Five silhouettes a passion play mix shadows dancing in the moonlit night
work art and framework on the vertical horizon of ecliptic thought’s array
Alchemy casts precious golden sculptures in the feeling fondness wisdom’s
mind tending to its business slow and fast evolving rainbow’s kairos white
Five shades blend into one reasoned action intuited perception truth reality
embodiment beholding earth wind fire water aired in carbon gilded nuances on
the journey’s crested prism’s holograms when three plus two engraves infinity
They overtone refinement’s overture into the pentagon from anthracite to gold
by way of any tinted tingle unadulterated quintessential and concerted meaning
13th September 2016
The moon has its own itinerary
Going about its business
As if I don’t exist
Within this world of exhaustive
Pieces of a whole
Just like the moon harvests
Only full but once a month
Eating away at itself
It moves along with grace
Unbeknown to the reality
That the sun
Only has so much to give
And will on day expire
Leaving the moonlight to die
Within its own desires
To be on its own devices
Russell Sivey
Authors Note: Warning! If you are a serious person do not continue reading this. If you expose this poem to direct sunlight it might remain the same or become a little warmer. You have been warned.
Too heavy for the sky
Dirigibles collide with clouds
Filled with bricks, concrete in nature
Crazy birds walk home having missed their flight
Still alive, dreaming of reality
Why waste time on thinking?
Why are there no traffic signs in heaven?
Why is there so much blue in the sky?
If people were meant to fly they would not
Sleeping in the park is much more rewarding
Ask the pigeon perched on a statue of Lincoln
Doing its business like a religion
I sit, at night, on the concrete pad laid before my door.
My buttocks chilling through the fleece of my sweats,
My knees and hips aching from a day well traveled,
sitting at the threshold of the second half of my century here.
The moon is elsewhere, involved in its business of
Gaining on and fading from its apogee.
Dragging deeply on my cigarette,
I stare up and out, into the mottled sky.
I see something to my right, I adjust, but it is not there.
I see something to my left, I adjust, but it is not there.
Right and left, left and right, the stars dance truly only
In the corners of my eyes.
Now I know.
My undiscovered love is like movement in the dark.
When I search for him, when I bring all my focus acute on him,
he dissolves.
One day, perhaps, he will saunter up, and I will see him,
In the corner of my eye.
I can at last see EVERYTHING,
In the corner of my eye.
Being disconnected..
A disconnection of everything
A spark of electricity along with its juice..
Makes a connection..
Wires are all connecting to different connections..
Sparks are flying everywhere..
A perfect connection ignites..
Feeling disconnected..
A disconnection of people, places and things..
Bombarded by faulty wiring..
Perhaps my inside wires are not able to ignite..
The wires are not doing its business..
Once there was juice..
Once there were sparks flying everywhere..
A need to mend my faulty wiring.
To apply a band aid to the painful disconnection..
Will it cover and mask the healing process?
Healing the wounds of disconnection..
A broken disconnection needs mending..
As I ponder in the moment of what lies ahead..
A visualization of a massive connection..
With all of my entire being..
A high jolt and charge of electricity..
Captured and stored within myself..
An act of empowerment in visualization..
I feel a Incredible charge of empowerment..
I shall indeed connect the wires .
Juices flowing..
It ignites
Sparks are now flying everywhere
Faulty wiring shall cease to exist..
Healing rises..
Connected I am..
I have risen..
Risen to a massive connection..
The feel of mud oozing between my toes
Watching an ant going about its business,
Bizarre ideas crossing my mind are those
Causing my brain to spiral into dizziness.
I am captivated by silly, mundane things
That no one else would think of trying,
Like writing a poem about guitar strings
Or feeling elation when a mouse is dying.
I need no affirmation for small trivialities
Merely recognizing that they do exist
Acknowledging my need for frivolities,
I could mention a few more on my list!
Things that captivate my full attention
Are those things pricking my imagination
There are far too many to get a mention,
Making me exclaim, "What in tarnation!"
Written October 6, 2022
I am guilty
I know
I killed a spider.
A miniscule tiny aspect of life
moving about its business
in my space.
It fled right
it fled left
it jumped up
it came down.
My godly presence
was everywhere
like a black night.
I smashed its plastic skeleton
its fluid internals popped outside.
The poor thing
just curled
and retracted
like a coil spring.
Then tears
rolled out, from my iron heart.
I thought;
Was it worth
whisking away life
to protect
this insensible fear?