Behind the glass, a ticking god of brass,
Who waves a withered palm of fiberglass.
The neon crystal bleeds a bruised magenta hue,
Dispensing plastic tokens, counterfeit and true.
“Your wish is granted,” the solenoid sighs,
While servo motors calibrate his glowing eyes.
He sits in a paisley vest and a gold-wrapped head,
Proclaiming: “Be happy living, for you’re a long time dead.”
Drop in a copper, hear his jawbones creak,
The algorithm’s gospel is the truth he’ll speak.
He shuffles fifteen fortunes from a secret slot,
Telling you of money, love, and what you haven’t got.
A silicon swami in a cedar cage,
Selling sudden adulthood on a printed page.
For twenty-five cents—or a swipe of your card—
He dictates the future of a weary backyard.
But if you feed the Deluxe Cabinet every spare dime,
He loops all his blessings in a paradox of time.
A timeless automaton, forever programmed to please,
Dispensing our destinies on tear-off degrees.
We have a day like this
To celebrate workers deeds
What shall we celebrate
When welfares aren't well calibrate
Between the retired and working ages
How great our nation has honoured the sages
If nothing is to be happy of
Lets celebrate our perseverance despite the tough
A time will come when workers will jubilate
When wages will inflate
May be to that of the senators
That's isn't greediness or some stutters
It isn't good when we have workers
As professional competent hawkers
Happy labour/workers day to the world
Be grateful when to us the table swirled
I sink my telescope
into dew-heavy grass
and prop it up against
the inky black night
bathed in quiet
swirling with stars.
I'm hungry to map the celestial bodies
that dot the sky.
to chart the constellations
that let me get lost in them.
to see
and be seen.
beside me
you're silent
your own optical instrument
unused.
I've realized it's futile
to bring my telescope to your eyes.
it cannot sharpen wonders into view for you
the same way it does for me.
some stars only appear
when we tilt our eyepieces
so we must adjust our settings
calibrate our lenses
find a shared focus.
right now
we observe different skies.
it can unsettle me
and yet
I still want to sit with you.
to try to change my perspective.
to trust that
I'm not the only one
making sacrifices.
to have gratitude
for the gift of knowing you
existing with you
letting go of the future
letting the present hold us
as we are.
Generation, slide like land?
Fall into the sea?
Toil, tamarind! Much is planned!
So then, file my plea!
Weather, looking bad of late.
Volcanic my hate!
Cross the world or just the strait?
Better set the date!
Thunder, roll above us all!
Floodwaters to rise!
Fate and Fortune, fill the hall!
He who seeks the prize:
Here is one last riddle!
Nothing is to last?
Play, O second fiddle?
Goblin, ghoul, and ghast.
Yellow as the sky on Mars?
Get them when they come!
Flicker, harpsichord! Thy stars!
Deadly beats the drum!
Wall atop the northern waste?
How bad does it taste?
Nighttime women, staying chaste?
Turkey, long for baste?
Calibrate! Do not be late!
Suffer from it first?
Garment white as powder! Bait!
Plans of foemen burst!
First, remove the eyelids—
they hold too much fiberglass.
Grind streetlight into gunpowder,
cut it with gravel—snort the cocaine dusk.
Take the sidewalk like heretic communion,
metal-flake wine, asphalt host.
She blinks razors.
Stars break in her clavicle.
You don’t touch her—you calibrate.
Banana fingers, bruised and humming,
plucking vapor off the fencepost.
Storm-laced teeth.
Voice as hinge,
breath as cordless vacuum
throat tightrope over a cheap
motel dirty sink.
We lit the penguin rodeo in her Glacial ribcage.
Called the roots collect.
Spoke in wire glyphs.
The cancer slept in our gums,
soft, radiant.
I opened her chest
found an IPhone
still blinking,
still ringing,
with no one left to answer.
First, remove the eyelids—
they hold too much fiberglass.
Grind streetlight into gunpowder,
cut it with gravel—snort the cocaine dusk.
Take the sidewalk like heretic communion,
metal-flake wine, asphalt host.
She blinks razors.
Stars break in her clavicle.
You don’t touch her—you calibrate.
Banana fingers, bruised and humming,
plucking vapor off the fencepost.
Storm-laced teeth.
Voice as hinge,
breath as cordless vacuum
throat tightrope over a cheap
motel dirty sink.
We lit the penguin rodeo in her Glacial ribcage.
Called the roots collect.
Spoke in wire glyphs.
The cancer slept in our gums,
soft, radiant.
I opened her chest
found an IPhone
still blinking,
still ringing,
with no one left to answer.
As energy accumulates,
It also creates,
Operates,
In different states.
Obtaining traits,
Learning to propagate,
Designing a substrate,
Continuing to circulate.
It starts to vibrate,
Concentrate,
Learning to duplicate,
A code to translate.
A way to activate,
And begin to animate,
As the air mutates,
Into shapes that fascinate.
Molecules starts to migrate,
As they rotate and calibrate,
Delegate and designate,
Into something great.
One able to captivate,
Encapsulate,
A being to dictate,
How its energy will create.
Calibrated Calendars
02 4 2025
David J Walker
Celebrate
The day
the month
the year
The way
We calibrate
our calendars
In gear
For another round
Around the sun
Another day
A week
A month
Is gone
Another year
I fear
If fleeting fast
Beyond the
Mornings cast
Of sun rays
Along the path
Of life in ways
We will never understand
As we stand
And demand
Answers
We will never understand
And then
again
It’s gone
I only worship at my own altar
I do not even go to nightclubs
I do not even know the Kaaba
Or kneel for a word of prayer
Not even a chant in the stadium
I do not even like talking to others
When I do
It always comes back to me, Karma
I feel stressed to see a banker
Its even worse with doctors
Unless I am dying, Nirvana
and my lips are all chapped
That's when I call for mother
To heal me rebirth me
Madonna, Miracle worker
What kind of man? I wonder
But my poems are a way to reach ya
Hold your hand, touch ya
Share myself, appreciate ya
Show my dirt, entertain ya
Heal your heart, medicate ya
Share my thoughts, Liberate ya
Make you like me, Imitate ya
It is always with love, I seduce ya
And when your are lost, Calibrate ya
So without going Further
I do this for you with care
If you find it in you return a favour
For an Antisocial Humanitarian
I push the gate- each year elate,
ending my wait to replay fate.
My roots await to drink, hydrate
and fully sate for full growth rate.
Stems push up straight to levitate
buds that dilate as leaves abate
and calibrate- blossoms create
to activate each full-bloomed trait.
I am your Spring- your loved upswing!
Each tree, a king as branches string
to a wellspring of verdant bling.
I share with zing, my season's fling.
Aft Winter's sting- while lovebirds wing,
our couples cling- soon worshipping
as church bells ring, good wishes sing.
All this I bring- my name is Spring.
February 22, 2023
Contest: In Bloom Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
Form Requested: Personification
(Internal Rhyme and Monorhyme added)
“Time moves faster than life, but death will stop it”
Every second that moves can alter and destroy life, we all have patterns of reflections that moves through time. Sight tells a story that is remembered, hearing is a warning for pleasure or fright. Touch can be love or an injury it may also cause a broken heart, we can taste what's sour or sweet. A roses fragrance is pleasant where an outhouse is pungent, leaving only our 6th sense which is only known after death. We touch, smell, hear, see and taste as a human there is only one sense left, I believe it is the soul and spirit within us that gives us our thoughts about how to calculate and calibrate this life we were all born in, only to die. Time is not a gift from God it is the destroyer of life as we know it, God's gift is our 5 senses to live on this earth and learn about life after death.
We are all children on his playground wondering and creating for our own needs,
once you have grown, he will take you no matter the age. all look at death as the end which it is, you have run out of time meaning: You have escaped the destroyer of life.
Which is Time
I am seduced by words and enchanted with melody,
I become absorbed and engrossed as if I were under a spell.
Parchment and ink place me into a trance as I ravish writing.
Delightful and beautiful as I calculate and calibrate words,
Longing and wondering if they will attract other thoughts.
When finished,
I submit and then it appears right before your eyes,
My thoughts have now entered your mind.
NOT FOR CONTEST
Shipping mountains of expanse it gains the above,
a smooth sheen of aphotic immensity
gate-crashes the sky.
We watch as a vast inclination to be enormous
break free of the tenebrous deep.
It has now a ribbed and scalloped identity,
it is the depth made manifest.
I can no longer calibrate my mind, as the booming whale
surges past my physical insignificance.
That night
I could feel my fingernails growing in my sleep,
my thickening backbone stretching to crane upward
into an arching leviathan flight,
while my own shriveled and shed skin
sinks downwards to become mere morsels
for soft-mouthed bottom feeders.
This play of attraction and repulsion
plays out within the realm of space and time
wherein free will may choose resonation
with vibrations of divine love sublime
Slowed down vibrations in our waking state
enable us to calibrate our heart
that by abiding in stillness sedate
we recognise all are one, none apart
Fixating attention in the vast void
we relinquish control by surrender
throbbing with rapture, by bliss currents buoyed
beholding our soul ascent in wonder
Thought rested, love suffused silence the way
Through day and night, to rhythm of God sway
21-December-2021
how still is our silence, hermit
if we yet calibrate merit
searching, discerning and seeking
inadvertent acts, soul stifling
far cry yet, tranquil calm perfect
12-July-2021
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