Best Skewing Poems
Oh I love the sound of the rain
a softly spoken spiraling sustain,
marathon runners against the grain
all soon lost within their drain...
One slows down near my eye
a staring contest with a somber sigh,
could it be a suspicious spy?
as my tears match their coasting cry...
It then speeds up again
leaving satiated sorrows within its stain,
for it utters no words to complain
only the remnants of its strain...
Avoiding languishing lanes to leap
where whispering wallows weep,
formless in its kaleidoscope keep
racing down the window to sweep...
Longing lugubrious raindrops skewing
victimized amidst my viewing,
each one in a ponderous pursuing
a dismal deluge in their renewing...
A jaded journey of their repeating
sharing thoughts upon our meeting,
all is dry after their completing
memories once shared now fleeting.
Aug.09.2019
Writing Challenge 1,
August 2019 - Just Write
Sponsored by: Dear Heart
Musical background...
Signs of Nature
Rain Sounds
Stormy Skies
Female Virtual Voice
Placed 2'nd...Thank You
Soon dawn at plum morn
though pearly moon still keeps watch,
for the golden end.
Afternoon's recalled in dreams
adorned in wild color schemes.
Memory Lane sleeps
as orange noon is coming,
after dusk scarlet.
Lemon-lime hours revisit
and bluebird returns vivid.
Pink skies are coming
a jade past is repeating,
since tomorrow's gone.
Time's fallen asleep, at last
skewing the future and past.
A dream broken open left to decay away
Another undoing left to go through the skewing and the scathing
Called raving mad, angry, and sad
As above so below
We are what we know
I won't go away so easily repeatedly
Told eyes of golden beauty to the monstrous reapers keeper
"You will never be anything of what you seek"
"What we have you never reach"
Sad and bitter truth in a world obsessed with outer appearances and disgusted by the thin shell of our bodies crust
What lies beneath should be sook but pray never is
First show us aesthetically appeal, kneel and, never speak against us
Our world is filled with many beautiful things pray we are complex and contradictory to those things but,
Give us wings and we can soar higher then the heavens past the moon
Past now past soon
Pray me an ugly thing who saw beauty in everything and now my scorched heart bleeds to a broken beat and i no longer see those things as I once did
I fled or they hid
Now I run with the sun and the monster they saw I became
Driven insane by the ravenous and perpetual stream of my minds eye
I have forgotten how to cry
Lost amongst the ashes in a time well remembered
A cold, dark, and bitter December but,
My hope though a dying ember still burns and it yearns to ignite
Here in the words I write
In the nights I lay awake and toss to turn my view of this dark abyss of broken dreams into my one wish
I used to wonder what crashing thunder could bring and i would sing so loud so proud of everything and everyone
I was shunned made a fool
I no longer hold out my hand in hopes of camaraderie
Beauty took the best of me it cannot have the rest of me
I keep myself well hidden from the world around me
A diamond unrefined still shines in the light but dims in the dark of night
I will glow when the day finds me and be sullen and cold when the night binds me
Forever golden, Forever frozen
A contradicting scheme of unfathomable torment
A wide river flowing endlessly with harsh turns, rigid rocks, and cold that shocks
At every turn another fall into a deep well an icy hell
This river that twists and turns you that scorns and burns you lasts for eternity
It rages on endlessly
This is my reality
A raging river searching for the sea
Masters of theft
Morally retarded
With devious stealing methods
For people, today they steal
From them, tomorrow they steal
Skewing the popular concept of morality
The execuTHIEVES among rodents
Leading players in series of shocking scandals
With gross misconducts running the gamut of vices
Devious financial dealings and embezzlements
Shall I compare thee to rats?
The societal rats in human clothing
Faithless shipmates, residents of trash heaps.
Even candidates for public offices
Stripped grain warehouses
Eaten entire field of tomatoes
And other vegetables
Waves of tree climbing rats
Have stormed orange groves
And devoured the fruit
Roof rats have descended after the dark
To nip at sleeping children and adults
The then 'holy' one,
So easily stoop to thievery.
Wallowing in wanton moral filths
Manifestoes are less important
You only appear to take a satanic
And moronic relish in splashing thy vulgarities
Into the face of the public
Unless thou anchor thy knowledge to moral foundation,
The ultimate result will be dust and ashes.
Dust and ashes that will bury the hopes
And monuments of men beyond recovery
Fickle moods
swing
skewing the cornerstones
of poetic view
like a ball of string
poets try
untangling
knotted questions
to find answers
which give meaning
to beliefs
I look up and feel the pull of the moon,
It’s setting my blood on fire;
My anger burning below my skin,
Temper running higher and higher;
An inexplicable hate is taking domain,
For no reason at all it’s taking control;
The moon is making me insane,
Capturing my very soul;
I feel it in every breath I take,
As the full moon rises overhead;
Every second causes my body to shake
The minutes tic by, filling me with dread,
This pull that I feel I can’t explain,
My subconscious is slowly breaking through;
Filling my essence with hatred and pain,
Imprisoning my heart, skewing my view.
Thor's hammer-strike sheds
bolts of jagged sparks;
as misty clouds weep,
and howling winds wail.
With thunderous booms
the seared air fragments;
skewing the night skies
with forks of lightning.
The heavens open:
and an outpouring
of torrential rain,
plummets to the ground.
Despite the storm's rage
and ferocity,
amidst the fury:
the Earth's thirst gets quenched.
Raped realities
raw reverberating realms
dimensions divide
expanding echoes entwined
limitless levitating.
5 lines only with syllable count 5/7/5/7/7
...this Tanka can also be read backward...from bottom-right to top-left or top right to bottom left...
Please forgive for little participation in the Soup...recovering from bad flu... :o(
Feb.19.2020
Let the Pens Flow - Tanka
Sponsored by: Jenish Somadas
Placed 3'rd...Thank you
In my life, narrow margins matter
Opening my eyes wide
To better perspectives which don’t flatter
Dispensable pride riding on the tide
Where populism portrays norms
To which I don’t subscribe
Despite unusual forms and storms
I ride although I can’t bribe the scribe
Who espouses a culture that departs
From humility to portray gullibility
As a virtue from which servile starts
Gain and regain infallibility
Cultivated into a bandwagon
That bends truth
Into a notoriety nonagon
Gone uncouth against a sooth
Sayer satirized and ostracized
For holding dissenting views
Which I embrace in my italicized
World where I don’t condone crews
Who sail to my North Pole
With wrong readings of latitude
To ride in circles dug in a humbug hole
Spewing and skewing the puniest platitude
Elevated into a golden standard
In ramparts and proportional parts
So incorrectly computed by a laggard
They conflate gallons of unwisdom and quarts
Which in my metric world signify
Confusion and contusion not just on the periphery
But also at the core where midgets justify
Unsubstantiated hypotheses which carry
Out fallacy tests and infer
Conclusions at variance with established benchmarks
Scientific rigour and vigour prefer
To award deserved marks
To theories in which I believe
Sustaining virtues of rigorous proof
Which I declare anyone can perceive
As the essential light to illuminate a rudimentary roof
Although reality at first challenges
The paradigm that devotes more time and space
To fallacy and the supremacy that singe meninges and lozenges
Which metamorphose a bluff believer into an agile acumen ace.
Beneath a callused skin of light
the hunched and mustered
clap a prayer between a leaking sight.
It is the earth that mourns itself,
whether baldly thrown or loamy laid
the silent soil repaints its sullied shrouds
far beyond any atoning sorrow,
or cooling heart.
It is none but a laboring pity
to lay down the past
as deep as a weeping sky allows
or raise a hand only to tamp down
a new-turned mound.
Restless are the skewing worms
ever churning a blood-born mud,
eyeless they cover the once begotten,
cloak a hard pressed present and loss.
as the missing
deafly retreat beyond our ken.
Hear now the trilling birds,
how they far-fling their buoyant hymns,
see how they hop between their own bones.
What the F***!
I'm an idiot, such a fool
Head spinning in a whirlpool
Like 30 years out of school
And I'm breaking all my rules
So I can sit and dream and drool
Pretend I'm young and cool
With open hearts we duel
Build love precious as a jewel
Lust dangerous I openly fuel
Selfish games are oh so cruel
Acting like a total tool
Hold on stubborn like a mule
What the F***!
What am I doing?
Mistakes I am accruing
Venom I am spewing
On anger I am chewing
Not clearly am I viewing
Disaster! It is brewing
Young love I am pursuing
Mercilessly wooing
Desire needs subduing
Lives that I am skewing
My head is what I'm screwing
Completely my undoing
What the F***!
Deep in self
where thought takes its toll;
Past Determination
where foresight first achieves its goal;
Beyond Compassion
but not always by Misery;
Opposite Reason
laughing at ideals of Sanity;
Skewing Memories
in religious peace, it sees a cultural war;
Fortifying Beliefs
in religious war, hope weighs in more;
Unfathomable queries
is where its minions lay their seed;
Morality chooses
the heroes it will breed;
Constucting sanctuaries
where anyone can cry;
Burrowing tunnels
where courage may lie;
Wild Dreams
a mere nightly place to play;
Adjacent Consciousness
is usually where it may stay;
Imagination-Where the Soul dances with Possiblity
Trump’s not “great,” he IS fat, his morality’s more like a doormat
To Satan than ‘shining’ example of ‘City on Hilltop!’
His base ‘chokes’ on swill that he feeds them, his fascist black ‘Colors’
Would crucify freedom! “Fake News” is called ‘fact’ from “Hate’s Pews!”
Base prefers ‘rape to sacrifice,’ ‘man’s truth’ to mercy, a racist’s ‘sop’
Over responsible living! ‘Base’ steal ‘what poor have’ from their brothers.
Do rich gain more by axes (a harvest of sweat-felled trees), taxes
Avoided by skewing all law in wealth’s favor, deception
More ‘Rule’ than ‘Exception?’ Can Government serve those it’s cheating?
Should wealth be a privilege earned or the cross of those burned
By the bribes of ‘sin’s favored’ found greasing the courts as more rapist’s come?
Voting rights, virtue, the faith of our father’s, their blood, love’s ‘short-sheeting?’
I may doubt ‘Speech’ of sharers, lie too if I label them “Liars!”
Untruth’s not a lie that a speaker repeats with no malice,
All judgment's perverse that my truth IS God’s truth! Does man grok ‘TRUTH’
Or God! Most folks do what we do (which the later they rue!)
It’s in ‘Faith’ we love God, share Lord’s Supper, though childlike and powerless,
Knowing we’re slaves to our egos, to pride, to our health, and deceived youth!
Earth’s diversity tapped ‘Big Bang’s’ love? You’ve divined God’s Truth needs shove
Perhaps? Might a singular Truth be too big for a mortal,
(An infinite depth to it) maybe a portal to God’s smile?
Might all of Man’s Truth be food Christ grokked at birth? Am I rude?
God! You’re Twit! How can God not be God fool? Does man’s birth seem digital?
‘Best’ explanation is clear! God’s ‘I AM’ Sir, not Jew Sir or Gentile!
Brian Johnston
16th of August in 2019
Imagine that someone wants to argue against the existence of air
All the while breathing in air
The Catholics have the Mitered Buffoon
They say Protestants have the “Paper Pope” too
Immanuel Kant said you can’t bring the noumenal and phenomenal together
And it was for duty’s sake that we honor God, or whether
Rene Descartes says I doubt therefore I must exist to do the doubting
Akin to intellectual touting
Friedrich Nietzsche said we can’t give up God because we believe in
laws of grammar
God’s anvil has exhausted many a hammer
David Hume came to skepticism over the induction principle
Bertrand Russell said the same thing
Only Cornelius Van Til could say that the unbeliever is like a child
sitting on his father’s lap
Can reach up and slap his father’s face
It is by God’s common grace that the unbeliever
can sit on God’s lap reach up and infantilely slap His face
The intellectual picture and metaphor
Is in Christ who died for a Whore
Heraclitus and Zeno can consider points in a stream not the same in time
Or arrows that have antecedent range each and every time
Copernicus and Kepler (even Aristarchus) are skewing heliocentricity
Why wasn’t Ptolemy or Lucretius given verticity
All today’s G.O.A.T.’s can buy their fame
They won’t walk with the sheep on the last day
John Lennon said it out loud imagine there’s no heaven
We can equally posit imagine there is no Lennon
The Auburn Affirmation could only deny Christ’s deity
Jean Paul Sartre could only collar the Holy Spirit and throw Him out
Wittgenstein could only show disgust in the ubiquity of God’s judgment
on him
Unless they were breathing God’s air
And it’s the battling against the Holy Spirit’s work that is the unforgivable sin
Matthew asked this author
“How can you hate someone you don’t believe in?”
Within this sad planetary condemnation,
craftily engineered to compulsively survive,
the life of the flesh will certainly die
deprived of a divinely mandated resurrection.
The Day I die my death will die; die and efface!
Then, the agonizing fear of my demise
will join-to my bemused surprise!-
the colossal memory of the race.
-Will my atoms fuse back to the atomic nest?
-Will these tiny particles of what was my body beat within something else?
-Will my thought, still reeking of existence, have need of a face?
-Will I-at last-be freed of my internal hells?
-Will God-at last-become more than a name,
the vilified semantic of an old age spell?
These doubts which I conspicuously question
by intellectual rapture and skewing the aberration,
by entertaining the mind...the fears quell.