Never let Death hold your hand,
My mother used to say.
He'll promise you time's sands
While slipping lethargy into your veins.
His nails will seem of luminous silver,
His teeth of polished jewels.
But when observed without night's cover,
They'll reveal themselves blanch as ghouls.
So should he ever fill your eye,
Or reside beneath your ear,
Best you heed him no free mind
While praying to nether he disappear.
In fountains of birth I laugh.
It's a getter done and a formal wig.
Can't recall the last time I cared.
Can't recall the last time I wondered.
In genuous hills I frollick.
I go like a pyramid: perfectly sad.
How does it work
when your best friend dies,
Don't touch me or act like your brother.,
I sail on waves, I dont define.
Love her or hate her,
it's in the same boat.
Join us now in the fretting tides,
we blanch our eyes
until they go wondering
into sleepful wakes
O zenith, at the apex.
What lives within thy zone?
Zodiac, thy spell is hex!
Zero at the Bone!
Narrow fellow? Let's be mellow.
Mine and thine machine.
No use saying sweet hello?
Yellow, mix with green.
O anaconda empire!
In swampland, what to dread?
Circumstances! Guns for hire!
Butter without bread!
Flame immortal, writhe within!
Blanch my dreams, O Sin!
Deadly venom, scour my skin!
Vicious fight to win!
Lord of greatest house, titmouse?
Ran right up her blouse?
O for those who gasoline douse!
Sycophant and souse!
Young sir, who ought we deter?
Real world, fade to blur.
Mongrel, pedigrees. O cur:
Life goes in a whir.
Hummingbird, wings. O hornet, stings.
Sorcerer, thy rings.
Never mind nefarious things?
Nature's ding-a-lings.
Proofs for equations, elk? Eel?
Antelope, hope. Seal:
What to buy and what to steal?
Gods of death, thy deal...
Android, light a fire!
Melt down metal and stone.
Forge of these a wire.
O hateful, hold thy own!
Hordes of havoc, ride with fate!
Loose thy battle cry!
Warrior, thy will is hate!
Compel these to die!
Sigh, O waiting ladies?
Not readily, good sir.
Look up at the Pleiades!
Reality, just blur...
Automaton, black abyss!
Apocalypse; kiss.
Flock of pelican, fish. Grow, gris.
Serpent coiling, hiss.
Bile and blasphemy, break. Be.
All tomorrow, flee.
Beat of my heart, suddenly!
Vision means to see...
Cold confusion, coffee cake!
Help a brother out!
Vampire, do ye fear the stake?
Dragon, do ye doubt?
Flame eternal, burn within!
Blanch, O fire of Sin!
Scorching heat of oven? In!
What ye dream, begin!
Light of spark and intellect!
Brilliant is thy glow!
Raven of fate, how you pecked!
Necked and tossed below!
Chain unbroken, forge. Deep gorge.
Weathervane, point. Sight.
Unit twenty, thou art corge.
One it takes to fight...
Sacred are the living?
And just why would that be?
Decay, gifts a-giving!
Under the skin to see.
Light, fall fast! Soul, fly away.
Poison, work thee hard.
Sunlight in my sky, shine grey!
Crystals, bear thy shard!
Emperor of ancient world?
Best that ye revive.
Spear in warrior hands a-hurled!
No longer alive!
Doom, claim all. End Times, begin.
How else can we win?
Blanch everything, light of Sin!
Drown it all, O vin!
Wicker man and bickering mare.
Tortoise, eat the hare.
O tornado, on a tear!
Thunderstorms aren't rare...
Warp and woof. The Devil's hoof.
Gambrel, pitch and roof.
Smoke of bonfire, in a poof!
Joker, time to goof!
Hated are the days of man.
Lengthen not each span.
Clock of mankind, how you ran!
Eat, reptilian!
Dread, dream of tomorrow.
O Death, shadow the move.
Sin, thy light! Blanch to borrow!
Sorrow, what to prove?
Weathervane, by lightning struck.
Are you out of luck?
Antlers, justify the buck!
Night, wind, run amok...
Anger, boil within my veins!
Justice, I invoke!
O ye prisoners, break thy chains!
Egg, devour thy yolk!
Torn open, O resting place?
Sounds like a disgrace!
Poison, best to speed thy pace!
Cone, caldera, case...
Autumnal the colored leaves.
Red run roll reprieves.
Corn stalk, indigo, thy sheaves.
He who fights believes.
Gifts of gold and silver?
O riches, where to find?
Ask the huntress! Fill? Fur.
Somewhere the sun shined...
Dark fire, bloom and blossom!
O belladonna, brain!
Pain within us, play possum!
Downward, my disdain...
“feeling not thinking, soul with love linking ~
we attained God consciousness unblinking”
I've been told that I wear my heart on my sleeve
that I try too hard to love others
that I open my heart up to pain because I try
and try again to help others and to love those
that some people consider unloveable
But my question for those that criticize me is
"Why don't you?"
How can you see all the pain around you and do
nothing? or turn your back to what you see each day?
How can you not reach out?
Homelessness, addiction, cancer, food insecurity,
inflation rising so fast that many people can not keep up,
healthcare costs so high that sometimes the choice
is care or food? How can I turn my back when
I have plenty, yet blanch at a $50 co-pay?
Love one another is a command that I hear often,
yet I don't see many people trying to do it
I do love others, and I try every day to show God's love
to those that feel unloved and when I find someone else trying,
I can feel our souls link and my heart sighs
Book by book,
I see the hook,
How about we have a look,
Don't make me choke,
I am with a bottle of Coke,
I hear a creek,
I am not a Greek,
The shrubs are on a bleak,
Glistened by the sleek,
I soften my cheek,
Keep me in check,
For the high-tech,
I smell a stench,
Without a blench,
I learned in French,
I did not sench,
Into a trench,
I'm blanch,
I went on blank,
I did not want to stay submerged,
I on a search,
For a lurch,
That I could not wait for my lunch,
I sat on a hunch,
I go for a punch,
Wait, it is the launch,
I would not move an inch,
That starts with an itch,
I did not put a salt on my stitch,
To worsen the condition of a hitch,
I run away with a glitch,
I am out of reach,
For more research,
Of what I found and searched.
A cacophonic silence,
A mere blanch of a catastrophic faliure,
A maroon in a sickening mirage,
'tis a shade one more,
As a ray one less,
Fairing smiles adiue,
Requiem of a chastised face,
Lay a bed,
O'er wond'rous, to waste.
Where'n freshen lie fast in his daze,
Merry may go his hour,
Time shroud.
However vivid,
a weary slumber ,
Is but man's sorry tire,
Weeping sore,
Once dreaded in languishment,
Once cowered behind the stars.
Not an eye unopened,
Nor a God that sleeps.
The fruit
Apples, grapes, pears
Held in a bowl so rare
Heat water, it is now impallid.
Salad
impallid -verb- to blanch(blanch par boil but also to dip in hot water for a brief period to make the skin turn loose).
Once there was
a tiny tree,
who wished itself
a lofty, wide-spread
oak;
longing to have
on him song-birds light...
to share a tune
to strum some beams
on full-moon night –
but the cat was
about, with a silent
foot...and the birds
knew Whiskers
like they wrote Grimms'
book – so the tiny tree
never got a second look –
but an angel up high
shrank deceptively small
and with a purposeful
stall, settled on the dwarf's
most prominent, yet near
ground branch
introducing herself
as a lost parrot
named Blanch –
and they sang
and hugged all the long day
only stopping at times just
to briefly pray (gratefully pray)
– and the cat,
quite lonely, for also a stray
made a fiddle of its whiskers
drummed with its tail
tapping a rhythm beat
on an old discarded pail –
Back to back we stand staring into the future.
The moon loves us for it is dead-eyed and alone.
Long or brief all days dwindle, while nights row us back
over that vast seas we arrived from.
Faces blur, after-mages blanch,
we both recall the same lovers -
for are we not all ‘I’?
‘You’ and ‘your’ a mere pretense of duality.
Lovers filled our own footprints,
yours came to you weeping, mine left sobbing,
our tears are formed in the same deep wells
of hope and regret.
You are seeking an horizon perhaps;
for a while you see a shadow-man
slipping underneath a sunset.
Don't follow, don't go that way,
tomorrow, if it dawns for you,
will be the gift only you can give
to I.
Wednesday's the middle of the sandwich
equidistant from weekends -- unhitched
Plenty of room for all those toppings
ketchup, mayo and rain showers -- she's sopping
How unjust, other days' inequitable ways
they'd blanch at my nickname of 'Hump Day'...
Alas, ignominy grinds on; the day's not yet over
~ Tomorrow's Thursday, that four-leaf clover
Please remember this is England.
It’s not the many, it’s the few.
It’s not democracy anymore because you’ve given Carte blanch for us to screw you.
It’s not Greensleeves you hear over the meadow grass. We don’t create anything good - that time has passed.
We want all your money and we intend to take it all. We’re happy to see you suffer, to see you fall.
This is now England under Tory rule.
If you think we give a damn about your children’s future or your parents health then you’re bloody fools.
My hat has a gardenia that refuses to behave.
She throws a fit that would make a Neanderthal cave.
I asked what she needed, what helps, what does she crave?
She said she always wanted a close straight razor shave.
But wouldn’t that hurt you as you are made of straw?
She gave me a look that made my heart blanch and turn raw.
A gardenia and yet, she is as abusive as a rabid jackdaw.
I wish my hat had instead a dead rooster’s lifeless claw.
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