DO NOT MISS THE MOON, WHILE COUNTING THE STARS
Do not be carried away by the deceit,
Of an oozing chant of a back palm’s stew;
For the meat that source and house it,
Will slip and off it will drift like dew;
So, do not miss the sun,
While counting the smiles of the stars,
Kafkaesque!
Most magic moments oblique,
The conscientiousness to tame,
And the illusionary shadow’s of blame.
Sometimes, I don’t want,
You to know what I think,
That’s why I hide it in a plant,
A tarred bowdlerize wink;
So, do not stay too long....
Looking at the sun, especially her eclipse.
Alas! The jaded aglet corpse!
I have wringed wet maelstroms,
What you have in your palm,
Is bigger than the shadow storms,
So, do not waste hours counting,
Those deceitful stars__
When all you need is the moon!
For this is an overweening;
Err that mar many: a raconteur.
~ Tile
Categories:
bowdlerize, africa, anxiety, caregiving, day,
Form: Blank verse
A heart quite overpoured is mine.
It replicates the breath
inspiring purity and art
with just a piquancy of lust,
expiring endings of romance
and promises,
of wisdom in the dance
that holds decorum back
and celebrates the wilds
of fancy, balanced by
excursions of the moment
into love.
Two natures reach
across the table of my life,
and at the moment they are friends.
They vie for some ascendancy
but give no thought
to final victory; it is a badinage
with no superior but for
the instant flashing of reality,
the fleeting smile of tolerance,
the protocol of dreams.
And then the desert wind comes up
and passion flares. Sirocco dares
to cross the sea and steam my body,
yield, invoke the sanctity of art,
and bowdlerize the arcane glory
of desire. Thoughts of transcendence
intertwine the carnal heat, and I,
aware there are two men
who ride the storm within me,
may relish laughter
in my quest for peace
~
Categories:
bowdlerize, life,
Form: Free verse