Best Seize On Poems
Poor ol’ Pyrrho, he’s the hero
Of my somber poetry:
Couldn’t figure how to pick your
Core beliefs with certainty.
Bold Descartes, he got the party
Started with his Cogito.
Up popped Pyrrho (what a zero!),
Said to think is not to know.
Next, John Locke, he tried his luck; he
Claimed true knowledge must appear
By consensus of the senses,
But just how, he wasn’t clear.
David Hume, an ornery human,
Stripped Sir Science of support.
Just one reason he could seize on:
Custom is our sheer resort.
Kant, the strange one, said, now hang on;
For what’s really real don’t fuss:
Be content to just consent to
What our minds make real to us.
Lastly, Hegel scored a bagel
With his dialectic ways:
Synthesizing’s just surmising
When you have no solid base.
Oh, bewail their learned failure
To make absolutely sure
Of the theories man can fear he’s
Welcomed with a false allure!
As for poor ol’ Pyrrho’s moral,
Which I think we should applaud:
Don’t be blurtin’ that you’re certain—
You are just a man, not God.
After a long week it is Friday,
and that means it’s time to go
to a corral twenty minutes off,
the weekly circuit rodeo.
Get there early ’cause they always have
a barbeque before it starts,
also basic line-dancing lessons
for ladies and their sweet-hearts.
Drifting through the nearby western store
while things are getting ready,
buy a new belt with an eagle print,
it’s both rustic and steady.
In the ring they’re warming up horses,
preparing them to ride slack,
a teenage girls talks on her cell-phone
while perched on a gelding’s back.
It starts off with some nice pageantry,
a dozen riders with flags,
anthem plays to the stars and the stripes,
makes a free man’s soul feel glad.
I sit way up high in the bleachers,
bronc-busters the first to ride,
unbroken horses don’t like the weight,
they buck, they spin ’round, they dive.
The riders always will get thrown off,
it’s just a question of when,
next the ropers go line up to ride,
chasing steers loosed from the pen.
Lassos flicker in stadium lights,
and slowly they scribe a path,
then swoop down low and seize on a hoof,
how the heck do they do that?
Now the steer wrestlers leap from their mounts,
never fails to bring a cheer,
wonder if they put on resumes
‘Am adept at wrestling steers’?
Things slow down, the trick-roper comes out,
spins a line as if born to it,
then pops balloons from a woman’s head
with a swish of his bull-whip!
Then pony-tails fly behind women,
barrel-racers ride compelled,
moving so fast you’d think they were chased
by the damned devil himself.
Finally men, more crazy then sane,
sit themselves on a huge bull,
two thousand pounds of angry muscle,
testosterone flowing full.
One by one the riders are thrown off,
then the clowns distract the beasts,
buying the rider just enough time,
to scramble back to his feet.
But one young man will not break his hold,
he passes eight second by luck,
just enough to win the night’s small prize,
a hard way to earn a buck.
The crowd is drifting back to their cars
as the sunlight settles low,
cowboys and girls I’ll see again at
the weekly circuit rodeo.
There is a bubbling spring, deep below the edge of my mind.
Dark, with glistening waters that are yet blurred,
And indistinct.
I watch it, with some interest, to see what comes forth,
As I am ignorant until words appear. They flood forth,
Ripe, pregnant with meaning (though sometimes, only
I can see what relevance to my life...or yours...
they might possess).
And always I wonder, whence cometh this fountain of words?
And I have no answer (though I blame my Mother…and perhaps my Dad).
Yet others seize on this and egg me on, and I do…I write…and
Wonder, whither it comes and is it me…and what does it all mean?
There once was an assault during the early roarin twenty twenties
In a way it infected the International flow of monies
It could be called the seize on socialization
Using a virus front casting grave patients
For a time being the healthy were required to no longer socialize
When interesting terms distributed claiming safety before someone else dies
Six feet apart, stay at home were marketed scripted lines
That played with the public’s mind
They can’t go here or there
Due to the reality that was a health care scare
Those who listened played into this global mission
Hibernating in one place
Quietly having a concerned face
If communities do not talk
A hidden mental sickness could peacefully stalk
Creating tension
Spreading gossip to get attention
These distrusting acts
Could lead to cool related attacks
To combat the building to these anti-social walls
Answer the honest relationship calls
When socialization returns
Community resident should go out and be firm
Happy hour
Does have its power
That blooms like a spring time flower
Making new friends seeing the old
Assists on defending against rhetoric that is so cold
Economy is a business word for work
When the day ends there is reason to relax by popping a bottle’s cork
Surrendering the hostage taker cough
In a finale proper send off
History books will state the innocent were sent to court
Locking them up in their family fort
Preventing depression to set in
Negativity did not win
Since when there is no longer a threat
Let us not forget
Socialization maybe the enemies fear
Especially when everyone communicates creating a setting filled with cheer
Allow those sunrays
Bypass through the lenses
Compose up my window
Buffing
Agree to those blends
Seize on to my grip
And let my sun
Grant me my limelight
Smiling, blurring
Sojourn!
Don’t swathe my sanity
My guide
My warmth
The exquisite
My Love
You shall by no means
Recoil beyond the pillows
Take and breathe fire
Seize on your desire
Kill the person
Unleash the dragon
Betwixt the vibrant threads of a busy bazaar,
A foreigner's gaze seize on a singular star,
A boy with one eye, an enigma raid,
Their dialogue begins, a journey to trade.
"Your salesmanship shines," the foreigner inquires,
"Does schooling attend you? Or familial fires?"
Orphaned and lone, no kin he admires,
The boy's tale unravel, as ambition inspires.
"English, how come its in your tongue?" the foreigner probes,
Through travelers' tales, the boy's knowledge thorough on globe.
In the loom of life, where destiny robes,
Their discourse unfurls, where curiosity lobs.
But the foreigner, intrigued by a deeper array,
Asks of the boy, his eye's fate's ray.
"Taken away," the boy voice like a squall,
No pity sought, nor tears to enthrall.
"Would you wish for new eye?" the foreigner's quest,
To gaze upon wonders, life's behest,
Boy apprise "I'd rather dwell in darkness, at rest,"
Than with one eye, bear life's test.
Silence ensues, the foreigner's heart sways,
By the boy's resolve, in life's maze,
A cashmere carpet purchased, in a daze,
Their encounter profound, in bazaar's craze.
care and
craft
poet trees...
that leave
words
to seize-on...
thoughts that
flower and fruit
any time of the year...
stans sand
"Autumn in Padded Beige"
Wrongfully writing of
This leaf changing
Season currently
Without knowing or for
Yes for no reason for
Four walls my eyes
Only seize on site of
What sight sees
Completely
Confounded
In confined
Solitary