Best Recuse Poems

The feeling is deep inside 
Calling as a helpless innocent guilt
It has become too much for me
Falling down like a cracking mountain
I imagine it as...

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So many people complain when they lose

To gain better rankings, judges they schmooze

And if they don’t place, their egos are bruised

They even use blogs simply...

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My muse blew a fuse
Without excuse fealty did recuse
In jilting fashion without compassion 
Tendered passion did stingily ration
Lofty discourse from pen did divorce
With no remorse...

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My muse did her fealty recuse
My honor she did stealthily reconnoiter
My discourse was grounds for divorce
Finding my writing no longer enlightening
My blithe parlance no longer...

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I need you
To clutch me tight and
Wipe my tears away.
Telling me 
‘I know it looks bad but it’ll get better’.
 
I need hope
To come along...

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THE   CURSE   OF   FOG


The curse of fog
Descended while our boat was  wearing,
Before we had time
To  fix ...

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If what I am doing is called Art
then this must be an attempt
to recuse myself from my own mortality
by leaving a record of personal accountability,
spurring...

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I think of her so often, wondering
if she is real.  I see myself
transcending time, creating
as a god might choose, from some
untouchable ideal, somewhere,
in surreptitious...

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Christmas for stolid, hermetic recluse
Recidivistic mind all sentimentality doth refuse
Token, lifeless symbols; pageantry will recuse
Pawned, second-hand trinkets now in disuse
Barnacled to limbs drooping to spindling...

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His policy views shift randomly
with the ever changing political winds
Whatever he ousted yesterday — 
tomorrow, presto change-o ... 
tweetle de dum, it’s blowing back in

Mirror,...

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Luck.
Not real.
Action made.
That's the real deal.
Luck is your excuse.
You envy others due.
Using luck as your recuse.
Life is about what you make it.
You try everything to...

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Take me with...

Relay the melody in glitter,
I can reach the zenith 
of providence
Our times and steps pledge to meet,
Show me width and breadth to seize
I...

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The accretion of a perfect squall
when claws were out-

scavenging novelties. A lewd
paranoia slains a farewell

in a trench. The chamber has
vomited a mound of gold blinding...

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The sound of water gushes down the big dirty river
beating on the backs of stubborn rocks whose root
is buried beneath the pregnant ground
penetrating the deep...

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Oh Spirit of Love; lost ... far, and apart; away from any abundant freedom, 
genuinely aeolian, without-You, soiled, sick, dying-naked cold alone, this is all...

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