Authors Quote: "Trust in His power" he said, I was lost like doubting Thomas
displaced in a moment of doubt and erased from all of certainty
Questions unanswered for so long plagued at my senses
if only I had a crystal ball, then I'd know for sure
Dreams that never had a chance skirt my dis-satisfaction
steam opened by the pressure of my two hopeless hands
"Trust in His power" he repeated while recanting the bible
if only I had Faith the size of a mustard seed then
I'd grow tall and secure just like the Sequoia tree
on a snow packed mountain, soaked to the bone with TRUST
Years of not understanding the simple truths of Him
if only He hadn't picked a cankerous mole like me
"Everyone should be proud to be called son and daughter"
this is what he said, then he whispered, " Come to me !"
This is where they burned their witch,
Half crazed, half starved Old Mother Gee,
Whimpering as they dragged her forth
‘Tis not me not me not me not me,
Then stood bound there
As if in a loutish dream
And endured those flames
Without a single scream
Causing those citizens, gathered
There to abuse and jeer,
To stand and mutter and watch
In abject horror and cankerous fear.
Twas my little poisoned needle
Driven swift and deep to the heart
So that she almost instant died
With just a silent little start
And I tied her corpse
To that burning tree
And only I knew that
She’d been set free.
I am the witch finder to seek them out;
Most nights I ride these skies enhanced
By the sacred mushroom power as down
Below my body lies held in deepest trance.
I ride those winds and I swoop and glide,
Play hide and seek with a midnight cloud
For I am the Warlock and do my will, and as I
Fly to the stars laugh my contempt out loud.
Heaven knows we need recovery from life
like wounded birds of prey we need respite
from those cankerous inkly thoughts of night
for when a tree falls all creatures live in rife
Only a bright star knows how much we long
for pearly doors ajar and welcome arms
I can hear him whilst below whispering be strong
as my weary soul goes setting off alarms
Gladness beams in my heart as the moon smiles
and even the birds soar again, in confidence
I follow His teachings and walk mile upon mile
onto the heart of His forest, onto His dense
God only knows how much I needed his grace
and how much I longed to see his radiant face
On the surface
you’re all sweetness and light
But ...
the truth is life isn't a game
and if I were to start digging
digging deeper than a gravediggers soiled shovel
I'd see through your libelous lies
which spread daily
like a cankerous carbuncle
Well honey
I’m shooting from the hip -
why can’t you simply sit on your fingers?
Just cut the crap
I’m through with your festering fallacies
get a life
and leave me to live mine in peace
THE CRAP SHOOT POETRY CONTEST Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John Lawless
4/29/19
Within the cankerous catacombs of the slaving still
Where torrential tears fall like rumbling rain
As the decomposed dust gets its felonious fill
And sanctioned sorrows receive their parasitic pain
Where dichotomous dreams destroy the nightly nest
And slumberous souls reminisce their restless rest
As the Dragon turns to breathe its bereaving breath
For all that abandonedly await for its defunctive death.
July.20.2016
Two Stanzas - Two Only - Poetry Contest
By Broken Wings
rhyming scheme abab ccdd
Especially amid the abstract statement by her country's commander in chief ?
That education is the best investment for America's future: feed them to breed them
Surely would seem but, another view ? Albeit, ancient by nature these absolute truths
Waxing gross as cankerous their sores crossing troubled time; pegged of pagans whom
Claim a tomorrow that they shall never find ? Again, extracting the Light to embrace this
Night his waning thought she sings in lullabies, lord Frankenstein ? Who shall confess you
........Afore, `HEAVEN'S MESSIAH, HIS KING OF KINGS`........
Waiting for a thought, an image or something; anything....
To jump start this heart; dead on arrival ? Sounds so familier
As sorting through life's dumpster a rag doll, baby hope; discarded
While time unwinds it's same old songs; composed of dispair her mother
Children themselves seeking dreams beyound these tears; another cold case
Text in abstract art ? Wearing rose coloured glasses be his conqueror worm; gray
Spectacle requiems mounting summits to embed their dire; dividing the spoils..
Gifts these gods; obscure, burning pages torn from pyres ? Historic's, white sheets
Draped an oblong box; adorned of black italic lines; criss cross, her corpse this state ?
Flesh bone as blood waiting for a thought, his rag dolls; cankerous sores blue lips; broken.
Dog footed deep rooted fist and fouled
Cankerous flea infested unglorified scowled
Floating above the four walled space
Drowning not thyself but every chequered face.
Wing wilted uninhibited web footed guest
Seeking not short lived stay but being adept
Burying your nailed claws in every nook
And the floor space
Even deeper steadier stiffer
For your imperished stage.
I can see your monstrous form when I wake
It hovers over me in sleep and shakes
Every deep rooted breath with lizard and snake.
I wishing the fisted strength to drive you & trod
Over the dunes unsung unrapturous over beaten sod.
Dog footed deep rooted melancholy be not amazed
If I throw myself and you out in the maze.
The knots have knots…God?
Threads of needing, want, desire;
passion spent on barren sod
left to burn on flaming pyre.
God, the knots have knots?
Nodes and nodules, full of spoor,
planted upon poisoned plots
hoarding, warmth, desire and more…
God, the knots have knots!
Pulse, and pump; push, and explore
lose the beastly cankerous clots
excrete angst, open the pore,
Free the knots, God, please…
By root and rote, the seedling pleads.
Contest: Me Against Myself
Date 6/30/11
D. Guzzi
Soiling, sin stains bleach the fabric of my inner being
Serrated path is dotted with my continual missteps
Shady thoughts shudder my raven mind
Salty, brackish inclinations evaporate into my sane senses
Silty apparitions clutter then corrode my night visions
Sultry, lucid desires are embedded in my dark imagination
Seductive thoughts race through my coarsening intellect
Shifting eyes refract the availing light
Sordid deeds exponentially multiply my misery
Searing indiscretions bracket my dampening conscience
Shrouding gloom eclipses my vexed heart
Soaring guilt pulsates through my jaded psche
Shallow cares flood then drown my resolve
Satiating peace flees from my corrupt estate
Shielding grace is obfuscated by my compounding feelings of inadequacy
Spawning mercy is blighted by my wicked, cankerous condition
Sanctifying balm rubs raw my callous, iniquitous sores
Feelings of despair dredged from the murky dephths of my past
Hoisted through my corroded conscience's porthole
Reconnoitering barge of restitution pushes despondent thoughts through my inner being
Then tows the shame and guilt of my depraved condition to mind's hatch
The murky dross of yesterday's sins seeps deep into my addled psche
The residual guilt oppresses my soul
The brackish bilge of cankerous jealousies trolls through my grieving spirit
My trembling hands grasp the anchor of remorse but slip into the deeper moor of penance
Earlier missteps have my struggling feet sinking ever deeper in the quicksand of hopelessness
The smokestack spews nautious fumes from the froward deeds of my virile youth
My shaky rudder teeters as the raw sewage of past debauchery overwhelms my senses
Sailing my sinking yacht to the edge of sanity and rational existence
Carried along by the unsettling currents of inconstancy and vacillation
Docking in the harbor of reclamation and recompense