The price of pliability?
We sink into penury
All for a speaking slot
At UNGASS in NYC
They’re at it again
Another talk shop
Deals on the side
We are sold out
They wax eloquent
Mouthing platitudes
Promising data and gold
Doling mining rights
They return, all smiles
Frequent fliers, all
Praising themselves
Lining up for the buffet
bright red ~ reddish brown
my feeder is your buffet~
eat and sing thank you
bright is our color
fun and pretty feathered birds
call us cardinals
What a disgrace, this prison of rules.
Blood is red yet never only red.
I remember a sad face from the past.
Did something happen? No… nothing happened.
They were assembled in a single line;
the world does not hold this many saints.
Your grace lies in your words, darling.
Gestures are not your only forte.
I am lost in such an evening.
Someone roams alone— am I that someone?
They stand still, like walls.
It was wrong to speak, yet nothing was said at all.
That single sound began an emotional marathon.
Is it them you see—or all of them contained within you?
She was about to adorn memory’s wings,
She would conjure the most wondrous things.
This life has shrunk to a mere fleeting trace,
It was meant for a journey of much grander grace.
She sold her sleep to buy herself dreams,
She who even in dreaming slept, or so it seems.
She who can never return was once a part,
That dwelt in the corner of my heart.
In longing and desire’s yearning embrace,
Her innocent light was fading from grace.
What comfort remains in pain now that she’s gone away,
She who once wept so softly is lost in dismay.
In the bird’s eye glistens sorrow and tears,
The hunter’s gun will soon sleep for endless years.
Slow down enjoy the spread
take time find beauty where least expected
tune in ~ feel the harmony
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Tell me, when we meet with a smile,
Tell me of the fondness for love.
The taverns of the city have long vanished,
Tell me if you can bring wine to my lips.
Roses scattered on the paths you can gather,
Tell me if you can piece together the broken me.
Each moment has passed in trembling fear,
Tell me if you can become the final hope.
We usually move ahead without looking back,
Tell me if you can call me home again.
Even your presence feels like a punishment,
Tell me if I still live within you.
This mirror has already shattered,
Tell me if your eyes can still make sense of it.
---
On the road I try each guise,
Today I’ll meet them with new eyes.
Life has left me time to spare,
I bring some idleness to share.
Some may perish in this flame,
I live on gladly, all the same.
A boundless show, yet sweet refrain,
Their voice keeps singing out my name.
Are these feelings just in vain?
Still alone, to them I wend my way again.
The duties are paid, yet restless remain these eyes,
Without my beloved’s sight, in vain remain these eyes.
His radiance softened my roughness away,
Helpless in their watchful pain remain these eyes.
Truth is no healer holds a cure to impart,
Afflicted with the illness of heart remain these eyes.
I cannot accept that another may see,
Slayers of grief and disgrace remain these eyes.
“Bhav” still stands humbled in the endless queue,
Whether love’s confession or death remain these eyes.
In the picture you seemed far more fair,
Only smiling, only there.
Must it always be adorned attire?
Just behold the soul is there.
Not every moment is a dear one near,
Yet in the silence, she stands there.
In love, I’ve become like Huzaifa at last,
She rules the heights, her throne is there.
Peace itself has turned away from me,
Now let it be death or her, there.
I sat apart from life, too weary to live,
Even the breath I owed, I refused to give.
The curse of the world is rightful on me,
I thinned the trees, not the flowers to be.
In the end, the mind grows tired of love’s flame,
I made a firefly my partner in name.
Whatever the cause, it stands as a crime,
I drowned the swimmer in ocean’s prime.
You bartered away the hope of peace true,
And left the heart idle, absorbed in love’s hue.
Death arrives when sorrow takes flight,
Even the game shivers when played in fright.
A wound so strange, a pain so new,
I pledged my soul to the beloved’s view.
I longed for you, that was my claim,
Fulfilled at last—by your leaving’s flame.
For years a lone star graced my skies,
It hides away, yet returns through goodbyes.
What would it mean to have it all?
I lose my reason when things do fall.
Know the strength that silence keeps,
Restlessness grows when complaint speaks.
Cling to truth and let it stay,
The heart grows dim when joy decays.
O my companion, still your fire,
The world won’t burn from my desire.
G-iraffe,
I-n
N-ature,
A-lways
E-ats
S-hrubs,
T-wigs
O-f
C-ommon
A-cacia
D-espite
O-bstacles
©bfa060525
Monocrostic (Birthday of Gina Estocado)
12 pork chops
thick about one inch
make a flour mix
2 tablespoons of salt
ground ginger 2Tablespoons
2 Cayeene pepper
2 T of Onion powder
1 T garlic powder
1 T Paprika
5 T breadcrumbs
1/2 c of parmesan cheese
1 cup of crushed corn flakes
2 C of flour
3 eggs 1 cup of milk egg wash
dip and fry in Olive oil
until golden brown (not done)
transfer to a baking pan
in a skillet
sautee
11/2 cup of onions diced
4 T crushed garlic
3 cups of sliced mushrooms
1 grated apple
3 tablespoons of fennel bulb grated
2 cups of red bell pepper
1 tablespoon of pepper flakes
saute until onions are translucent
add 1/4 cup of lemon juice
1/2 cups of vermouth
2 T brown sugar
4 tablespoons of butter
1/2 c of heavy cream
1 c of veggie stock
1/2 cup of chopped parsley
1 teaspoon of liquid smoke
make a loose sauce and pour over pork chops
bake 350 degrees for about 45-50 minutes
or until done.
THE BLOODY PERFECT BUFFET..
There should be a perfect buffet
A table for men
A happy gathering for them
The murders.... the killers of souls
There should be a table for us
After the long days battle
When the bombs rattled and pummelled the sands
When the sun settles and the cries echoes....
Lets us call for a celebration
Enjoy, enjoy and let evil reigh
With a table of the kills
With platter of the deads
There on the tables....
A plate of pounds of flesh of the dead paletinians
A cup of blood of the slain childrens
Memories of all the victims of his greed and power
Satan should be at the table, Netanyahu should be on his right
Let him drink and make merry, for the deads gone
Let hell rejoice at his laughters, upon cries of fallen souls
For zionism reigns and Islams demise
Let evil prevail, let Zionism flourish
When they sit at the table, to merry upon the bloods flows.
Dreaming of a perfect world, A peaceful Israel
Where honey and milk flows, besides a perfect buffet.
Wired to create verse every day,
it was not a planned strategy.
My soul has wings of poetry
and a burning desire to slay.
What else is really left to say?
This is my personality.
Wired to create,
I am armed with a fine buffet
of words from my dictionary.
With a stacked vocabulary
mixed with loathing every cliche’,
wired to create.
Sub Categories
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