Best Mesh Poems
BLUE EYES AND BLACK FLESH MESH TO COP DOPE
The smoggy air was thick atop a Harlem high rise
The only thing out of place was a boy with blue eyes
He was a youth in search of peace not found at home
And so the boy with blue eyes was begotten to roam
He ventured forth into a world of darkness to search
Having long ago been abandoned by school and his church
Neither religion nor education could comfort him so he took to the road
Headed afar from the comfort of his family’s hearth and abode
So there stared blazing blue eyes on a rooftop’s domain
As he talked to a man with a way to ease his pain
Thirty dollars and a smile would send him on his way
And so he returned to Harlem day after damnable day
Long Island had raised him but that island wasn’t long enough
And middle class madness left him with sadness to rebuff
Day after day he’d climb the stairs to where they would meet
A tall black man and a boy with blue eyes trying to be discreet
The black man sold his wares by dollars and a bag
The boy with blue eyes fearing his toes with a tag
Because in Harlem death was an indeterminate threat
And a boy with blue eyes had better pay every debt
Sometimes the air was thinner during winter’s cold weather
Yet and still the two faced fear while huddling close together
Harlem was his teacher and a rooftop was this junkie’s incubator
And writing this poem is blue eyes still with a habit forty-three years later
© 2012….copyright PHREEPOETREE.....~free cee!~
Sometimes it all make sense
The flow. The mesh. The depth.
It's intense. It's painful.
Yet so rewarding.
They connect, and you know why.
The randomness is but an illusion
A trick. An easy way out.
There's a logic, a rationale, that you see
When you ponder. When you look.
And think as you walk in the biting cold night.
The beauty that is beyond of what they can grasp.
But when you try to write. The words mess up.
You want to explain, but don't know where to begin.
You scream through a glass wall into the other world.
What an irony. When you know the why and can't tell!
You breathe.
You think of the world. A million years away.
And then backwards. And backwards.
And everything that needs to happen.
Everything that will be created.
The dots connect. It all makes sense.
You breathe. One more deep breath.
You know what you're to create.
The mesh fashion fit
The shuttle shafting fad hand,
Parading eyes hit.
Way back in September of nineteen-forty-nine
Farmer Jake fell off his tractor in a field of columbine
He remained calm, quiet, and sanguine
Impressing a newcomer named Clementine
She was wonderful, with sharp touches of refine
Farmer said to himself “I shall make her mine”
He was ninety-four, while she was not twenty-nine
This did not discourage him or his plan so fine
Jake invited Clementine on the avenue to dine
They had fancy foods, and tasty white French wine
She asked him about his green and yellow John Deere combine
For she was determined to learn how to convert hay into twine
He toasted her with an intricate hand-painted Germany stein
His optimistic fantasy he had to quickly resign
After he learned of her determined future outline
She was moving to France to farm near the Rhine
Written: Apri 28, 2024
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Sibilant deceit indeed! with a goal to charm,
A melancholy girl fostered by her father.
Never incite with wisdom, pride, or harm,
I owe it to them; cruel deeds are improper.
I cycle as a moon, enthralled by its pure soul,
As it dances its dulcet arms over me, I scroll.
Explore the placid ocean of ripples in my heart,
I learnt to be sincere and abide flaws apart.
When I'm intrigued, my paradox falters,
I'm fascinated as moon rises and alters.
I'll gladly refill your cup once mine is dry,
I starve to rehydrate, but my soul is shy.
I will come back as soon as I decry a skim,
I am a network of kinships, not a whim.
I prize my solid, pure soul in a jocular state,
If my love is you, let my heart elect your fate.
Cherish gloom as pure serendipity in disarray,
I admire your serenity in a mellifluous display.
If you pick another path, I will wait to love you,
I'm a nemesis; you'll be in awe of my vast hue.
stuck to bed
nerves are dead
no dopamine
no vitamin
aching body
weakened, naughty
can't lift a flesh
nor move a mesh
soul in ash
See them looking through the door waiting on the food for poor, they have been waiting on it for more than a week but mercy has passed them on crooked street and the people kept crying out for help as day breaks and reality walks all over the place, it is the other layer of life that is hard to see, it is part of life that is searching for thee and the morning escaped its ugliness.
Everything has come to a standstill as destiny has carved out their pre-determined will, leaving them bare and empty without a solid branch to hold on to, but somewhere in the distance the wind was blowing fresh air and the universe was negotiating for them over here and hope presses on and the people remained strong.
I placed my hopes in a mountain of deal rubber stamped and sign with signature from heaven, with a promise that should not be broken but you have taken the oath and meddle it with dirt and rolled back the stone and led the people astray to fulfill a short live promise that will never survive as the heart battle with its own pride.
Come with me to the top of the hill and allow, me to reason with thee, open your mind and relieve all the burden, caress your soul with the gifts from heaven untangle the web around you and come with me to the island of the divine where faith lives and the people love to sing.
Look at the people over there, there are living in great despair, you have taken away the bread from their mouth and their spirits began, to shout and the earth is soaked with the tears of their grief and they kept crying out to thee; if you listen carefully, you can hear them.
Examine the village at the foot of the hill, their spirit cannot remain still, the people are in severe pain because you have taken their medicine away, they will all die if you don’t do something right away, time is of essence so don’t allow your mind to falter.
I watched then prey upon the heart of weak men, men that have sold their soul for a shilling and pence; they have dragged the dirt upon their head for ages and work for minute wages and that entire region is at risk as starvation is driving them off the cliff, you must restore their livelihood and let them live.
How much longer must I wait for you to come and open the gate,
How much longer must I wait for the dream to come true, the chances are great but the burden is now on you.