Best Supplants Poems
Under 65 degree starry, onyx blanket
Containment of quarter moon identity
A whimsically soothing song exuded
In muffled taps & Prohibition era lyric
In the distance,
Snow-capped mountains reflecting lunar clarity
Off its tips of freedom
As we lay on recycled steel hood,
Made in 1950s USA, when it mattered,
Her silhouetted fingertips released from my right arm
While insistently looking towards stratosphere’s vocal chord
“Can’t it be like this forever?
Oh, how I want to just make love to the stars.
Become one with Orion while riding
On Sagittarius’s arrow”
“What about our stars?”, he softly questioned.
“I’d like to be your never-ending shooting star.
To ride on blue moon’s comet, by your side”
Cricket whispers manhandled his romantic clef
Mother Nature’s afterglow, upon her ears, fallen deaf
Inherent waxy build-up from illicit tongue,
She pat his shoulders like a dog
Being taught his first lesson
Her eyes, still sky high.
“Sigh, I like how you think.
You’re such a nice friend.
You’re going to make a woman so happy one day.
I hope to meet a guy just like you.”
As her eyes sighed with a powerful lack of substance
Into the arms of Leo,
A slammed car door supplants the reverberation of the car’s V8 engine.
He confidently turns back the hands of time.
Reversal gears become his new tune
“If you get lost going home, follow the stars.”
As he pulls away with majestic, amplified lyrics
Of Whitesnake’s “Here I go Again”
Going down the only road he’s ever known
While she stands in fraudulent gasps of shock,
Looking back up to the stars in blank wonder
As he accelerates into a new page in his book
Closing his chapter with wondrous questions
“Why would I taste your starlight?
When you never believed in our constellation?”
©Drake J. Eszes
It’s good to gaze at the stars and make wishes. But, be careful what you wish for. For Earth has its own gifts…
We met him at the Pride Parade joining all those who came there to unite…
He was wearing a blue denim dress and carrying a flag in colors blue and pink and white.
He proudly waved his transgender flag…a freedom that seemed to give him joy…
We weren’t sure if he was born a boy who knew he was a girl
or born a girl who knew she was a boy.
But that didn’t matter to us…or anyone else who stood there by the road…
we were all impressed with the courage and the bravery this wonderful human showed.
Because today…fear and prejudice and politics have made it difficult by far…
for a transgender human to stand up proudly…and declare to the world who they are…
Which is why we were there at the parade…to lend our love, support and happiness
to celebrate with pride…all the people in the parade…and their unique humanness.
It’s fitting that we are in Cherokee country..because many native nations,
whose traditions we so callously attempted to destroy…
believed in two-spirit people—those being born part girl…part boy.
They gave special significance to two-spirit humans…and welcomed all of them here
believing they had a special connection to the sacred spiritual sphere.
They revered two-spirit humans…who because of their two-spirit feelings
became their spiritual and ceremonial leaders…with special powers for healing
I’d like to get back to the Native Nations way of thinking…
because the only way to make this country great…
If to ensure acceptance, truth and wisdom…supplants our prejudice, fear and hate.
When you think about it who walks in better balance
than a human who can see the world from more than one side…
Which made us proud to watch this young human wave his flag…
proud he knew he was accepted…that he didn’t have to hide.
I believe we all are born with two-spirits…certainly me…and I have no doubt…you…
It’s just some people are more blessed to have a better balance between the two.
And rather than try to shame and humiliate them…I think it’s important that we…
celebrate who they are…and who they were born to be…
Because this human holds onto the hope that one day…our world will have evolved so far…
That a human won’t need to be brave or courageous…to show the world exactly who they are
You indicated I don’t listen.
I respectfully disagree.
I hear you.
I just don’t like what you have to say.
Pretending to ignore you takes tremendous effort.
Quick to dismiss
that which emanates from a source
other than your own lips –
and it’s not like you’re the only one who likes to hear himself talk.
Trying to sleep
never should be undertaken.
That’s why we fall asleep.
There’s no effort.
Fall’s inevitable.
There’s a season for everything.
But this one’s
short lived
and seemingly doesn’t come as often as it used to
before global warming and other major concerns
evidently.
… thinking about our earlier discussion
makes me wish I lacked lips
and that the cliché about going in
one ear and out the other was more
literal than figurative.
I figure eventually this noise will
QUIET DOWN!
so that trying morphs
to falling
and dreamless sleep supplants
the constant drone of something
terribly wrong.
Panic attacks that
neverend
or seemingly seem so
prior to this pillow talk –
a case for a better
container:
containment is key.
It turns out
that my point of entry
always my biggest nightmare.
Big is such a small word.
I wish it was more attentive
of its status as an anomaly –
just a monosyllabic
monstrosity of awfulness.
B-I-G
A word so tiny
even toddlers
master its annunciation.
BIG!
From that which is so small.
If I said I forgave you
it would be nothing but a lie
but you would not apologize
anyway.
So all this talk is trash.
Be the big one.
Say you’re sorry.
Just refuse for another
Pronouncement
of lackluster
underachievement.
My comfort zone.
I’m sorry.
Yet again.
When just a child the poet's mom said "Son
Throughout your life beware the sin of pride
Remember this when every day is done
What counts the most is who you are inside"
At first he thought his mother's words unfair
For recognition surely has its place
In time he witnessed prideful thoughts can flare
When undue adulation supplants grace
The poet took to heart his mother's words
Too many accolades can turn your head
Vainglory flits away on wings of birds
What's left is mostly emptiness and dread
Life immersed in modest exhibition
Satisfied with honorable mention
Written: May 20, 2024
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Siren stunningly sprung a sanguine sway
sailboat sheaths spread, and storms swell
splendid summer shorelines spike
summertime spousal serenade swept
scrumptious, sturdy sibyllic sweeps
silky shorelines settle scrawls
seawater subtly scrubs sewage
skirr is a spectacular sand stronghold
sapphire specks spruce seaside sand
shoreline scoria is sharp
shipmates glide along a sleety seacoast
shivering seafarers' sight.
Straight skyline scaled saddlebow
sighting swallows spawned sibilance
stalls and slumps were scrutinized
strolling solysium soliloquy
stranding Schadenfreude
satisfied spectator
sarcasm serves as a solecism
slanting supplants a sempiternal scintilla
swirl across a snapped soul
supported standout slide
spiraling semantic spondaic species
sweeping synopsis syncope
start to sense surrealism
Sensual, sensuous, slim, and smiling
sits silently staring
sapphire sky sight
the sun casts scarlet shadows
slowly sinking silhouettes
scatter stars on skylines
Sunday sermon supply
searching souls
singing serenade.
Slides speckled sunshine
souvenirs spark strands of subdued shades
sequential surety swelling
strange, scarlet, silky songs
sway symphonic sylphic stardust
store sustained scrupulousness
silver surges spurred the space
snagging scents
step sibilant serendipity
stirred spectrum.
A pulchritudinous creature
Oblivious to the turmoil
Stirred in a young mans chest
Tamed the beast in me
Sublimating me
From my true desires
Quelling the fires
Redirecting my passions
Reemploying my sexual energy
So we partake
Of the socially acceptable
Exercise our creative bent
Until the time is right
That blessed moment
When love supplants lust
And passions flame can burn
FRAGILE HEARTS DOUBLE ACROSTIC
F inally you appeared, right out of the blue
R andom chance that I would ever meet you
A fter all that we've been through
G od knew that our hearts were fragile too
I nstead of searching for love in vain
L ove has brought us here together
E ternal bliss supplants stormy weather
H appiness was found here in your smile
E verything you do, makes life worthwhile
A fter you, there could never be another
R ipples of you will go on forever
T rials and tribulations are in store, but
S ay you will stay with me forevermore
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
F allen victims of tragic love
R esurrected emotions, just to be
A nihilated by deception again
G oes against my will, and common sense
I ntuition tells me not to trust again, then
L ove conquers all of my fears and
E ventually, you ease my pain
H appiness is transitory at best
E xcept when you find a love that is true
A ll you can do, is guard your fragile heart
R efuse to give it away, unless they are
T rustworthy of character, Divine
S o bring down your walls, and let love's light shine
John Derek Hamilton
September 25,2016
Everybody still has bits and pieces that make us human, traits from a time before we became convoluted replicas unwittingly tracing our steps to the grave. We all started with hearts full of desire, souls on fire, the curiosity to explore the universe. So many broken down over time, dwindling away with each day, the urge to survive supplants the love for life. Refuge found in machines like us, like us these machines multiply without knowing why. Too tired to fathom a world of wonder or fantastic change. A race running automated protocols written long ago with no serious attempt to change. Chaos would be preferable, at least then order could prevail but with obsessive compulsion engrained in us all we're stuck in a loop. Nature does not need to be changed, inner or outer, it's priorities and paradigms that must be sorted. From the outside looking in we're a cautionary tale for any presence that wanders by. Within our disjointed leaderless mass we're constantly recoiling and resetting from a blood fued that managed to soak us all in its intoxicating crimson long ago. Broken and battered these new models furiously forge meaningless legacies. Tainted and sick from our own creations, tethered to pieces of paper that have no actual value but the worth that's been infused by generations of greed and neurotic psychosis, if you don't have enough you better get more if you have too much don't share with the poor. This mantra has helped ensure that we don't stray from a system that lusts for bodies and turmoil. It dissuades intelligent thoughts and bold suggestions. I can see and touch and feel and I can tell you what is real but I can't tell you the point because at this rate our species will die. We saw the world around us, decided it wasn't enough and started shaping our own. We made all the parameters and froze in time our modus operandi. Now that we're increasingly fusing a digital reality with a tangible world, we've justified a reason to stop asking why, instead we embrace the healthy malfunction and consume, delete, repeat... consume, delete, repeat... consume, delete, repeat... Warning system error!... would you like to restart?
I amble along paths
rutted deeply
In the life
that I have fashioned.
All pine for sunny days
of warmth and hope, but now
an aura tinged with fugue supplants
and haunts me with its specter.
For in the end, what I desire
simply does not matter. The fuse
is lit; the bomb goes off, and pieces
of me now are lying everywhere.
From time to time the mould gets broken,
And shatters into unspoken pieces. Chaos,
The lack of form, supplants the frozen norm.
Relief is sweet, like breathing out a stone.
Each time I stagger to my dizzy feet and climb
back out of that grinding sausage machine,
opening doors, energy forms, release me
Into a wave of darkness and dreams.
Until, invisible hands, guide me, pull me
Urge me forward, until I can hear
the call, clearly and beyond all doubt,
I jump, I fall, I feel her waiting arms
and disappearing from all, until,
possessed, I am in her hands now.
You can knock on every door but you can't get in,
you can run in races but you're not allowed to win,
you think you're cured ,but then the cancer returns,
memories fall like acid rain and you struggle while it burns.
In the darkness no one sees you, safe within your shell,
in the darkness they all seem to, leave you where you fell.
You remember every moment crystalline clear,
the feelings come upon you yet you still can't shed a tear,
no one knows anymore just what the truth is,
she still says it's her way and he still says it's his.
In the darkness no one sees you, safe inside your shell,
in the darkness there you seem to, live your private hell.
You can be whatever others want you to be,
you can wear the funny mask and it's all they'll ever see,
forever scarred, with wounds that always bleed,
soaking down into the ground as want supplants the need.
In the darkness no one sees you, safe within your shell,
in the darkness there's no need to, give your soul to sell.
The body divided
In undeclared war
Where personal image
Supplants what life’s for
A truth that’s misleading
But not quite a lie
Controlling direction
Avoid the word “Why”
Lofty high ladders
That lead to “Success”
Propped on the family
A terrible stress
A silent decision
I’m better than you
Truth falls by the wayside
It won’t always do
Can a people divided
Survive such malaise
What is in truth
A “Social Disease”
The cancer cares not
For the patient’s demise
Selfish to the end
The cancer too dies
Crushed by the fickle hand of fate:
collapsing dreams crumble away.
And abandoned, to fear and hate,
an emptiness; consumes my day.
Walking blind, convinced I can see:
cascading doubts, fracture my heart.
And challenging what defines me,
anxieties; rip me apart.
All alone and bullied by fears,
lingering hopes, swiftly depart.
And I drown in a pool of tears,
as feelings of loneliness start.
Forsaking promises of youth,
it's like the world is in my face.
And as deceit supplants the truth,
I question why my birth took place.
I've grown accustomed to the pain
of being hurt by foe and friend.
And on the fringes of disdain,
I'm thankful that life has an end.
I
Back home, I walk watering plants
Look to the hills, lifted up by His Hand
Busy painting another make-believe land
The hills, whence Help all evil supplants
The? ?healing? ?silence?
?Prompt from
Mid-american Tragedy. Denise Levertov
The? ?breeze? ?supplants? ?my? ?noisy? ?thoughts? ?with? ?empty? ?susurration.?
Softly? ?lapping? ?waves? ?mark? ?passing? ?time.? ?
My? ?seclusion? ?is? ?punctuated? ?by? ??t?he? ?cry? ?of? ?gulls.?
?
I? ?lament? ?the? ?approach? ?of? ?an? ?animated? ?family?,
they? ?sound? ?the? ?death? ?knell? ?to? ?my? ?salty? ?silence.? ?
I? ?quietly? ?grieve.? ?
The? ?familial? ?explorers? ?depart? ?for? ?new? ?discoveries?. ?
I resume? my? ?isolation?,
and the healing silence.
11 March 2022