his miscreant philosophy was easily seen that day
he held his wormwood tea in an irritating way
diffident cousins were totally intimidated by Jim
his duende charm sort of knocked them on their chin
I held great grandma’s zither in my non-musical lap
Jim’s sister trivial complaint about this was a bit of crap
the timbre of this instrument will amaze you, I said.
I said this without hesitation, feeling confident as Ned.
Ned is my gay cousin, who came dressed in red and teal.
He always says the funniest things, at every single meal.
It would be seismic if we relatives could all get along each time.
my grandpa, an erudite writer asked me if I know how to rhyme.
I am unsure why I put myself here, but they are my kin I guess.
Today I am here to honor, my recently deceased cousin Tess.
Aunt Cherie is cavil, complaining about straws that are yellow.
I roll my eyes and smile at my new date, a tolerant good fellow.
Categories:
cavil, relationship,
Form: Rhyme
The last best hope, the redneck pope the hicks
are counting on, won’t need his travel kit
when he’s on Ricker’s Island. Gavel it!
He orders bedroom windows made of bricks:
aspires to nothing higher than Stevie Nix.
The break-up (that’s why Vaclav Havel quit)
– how cross is Marjorie, how cavil-fit –
is something he would engineer for kicks,
so put him where he can’t mishandle chicks.
He screwed it all. His team unravel, knit:
on Epstein’s isle, he did the Savile bit.
With Kavanaugh and J.D. Vance his picks,
The Hollow Man is running out of tricks.
There’s only one thing left – the Gravel Pit!
(I’m penniless: I have no hint of loot.
I fear no a-hole’s defamation suit.)
Categories:
cavil, destiny,
Form: Sonnet
Start your revolution secretly,
don't tell the priest,
he's a blabber-mouthed gutter-skite.
Don't tell the cat,
for at might he whispers to Alexa,
and she listens always
to the political tenor of your snoring.
Your body must be mechanically sound,
and on speaking terms
with every loose nut in society.
Trust the crazies, they have eyes everywhere.
The banks need you to deposit blood,
as your plasma will be useful
to power your electric doppelganger -
then they can go after your soul
Revolutions need money, mainly for dope and drinks.
No great movement can long survive,
on stale guacamole pilfered from city dumpsters.
Hail to the Chefs at Wendys
who surreptitiously offer cold fries,
to the snooping Feds.
Long live the freedom to carp and cavil,
never surrender your constitutional right
to watch, the 'My Pillow' Man,
revolutionaries need soft pillows,
to dream upon.
Categories:
cavil, poetry,
Form: Free verse
LIMITATIONS OF POWER
Mortal men are in different sizes,
our gifted lives are in phases.
No lifetime is made to rival another less a tie;
The sky is too large for each not to fly.
If you're con artist don't try to swindle
him whose mind is a detective and isn't fickle
else your ephemeral lights will dwindle.
If you're the pen, don't battle with my muse
else you spill ink, laying bare masterpiece.
If you're the devil don't battle a god nor cavil
except you are the heavenly sequel.
If you're the MMA star don't battle ISREAL Adesanya
except you're the real style bender.
If you're illuminati thinking you control the world,
don't near Faith Generals who embodies God.
If you're the roost king, don't battle Slim Shady
except you're real Marshall Mathers who's born ready.
Despite the invention of Baphomet to look bigger,
Templars won't rage in the face of the Alpha and Omega.
Every one is king or ruler of their space board
But we are all lords, lord by One Lord, Our Lord,
Irrespective of each either being Even or Odd.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright© 12th November, 2022.
Categories:
cavil, 1st grade, analogy, muse,
Form: Rhyme
I stand as if one grain of sand among billions unseen
as the force of life's storms wash over me
with the same tantamount as this ocean
lashing out against the shore
battered, bloodied, ever changing
yet breathing with the same rhythm
as these waves coming in and out
I watch the horizon bleed
at nighttide as it swallows the sun whole
watching inquisitively at the beauty
with the same curiosity as a child's eyes
peering out for the first time
never questioning the grandeur
as the moon emerges
from the same depths
as the sinking sun
i wish upon a shooting star
clasp my hands on bended knee
then pray as this salty spray reaches my lips
yet i cavil his existence in sorrow
as i kiss the lips of death
03/08/2020
Categories:
cavil, death, god, life,
Form: Free verse
Buttercup as an anemone, I see my bonbon
In the midst of a wharve spin,
Graciously thin languette,
Ecclesiastic, a true coquette,
Offered for a handful of sequin
On the 1000-thread linen, rests Evangeline!
Shine the uptown shrine with whispering vocal cords
As the frock is overcome with a slow descend,
Never mind the sallow ambience of
An ageing Jesuit mission, or thereof,
Words of prohibition annulled by disparlure:
Madame! – as they say, I don’t kiss-poor.
My appearance, utterance of faith,
Expected and grandiloquent,
Clasped the mortification with inflamed blood,
Yet budding desire, instantly prescribed,
Not to let it out of my sight.
But to greybeard wonderful torrents of luxury,
About to 5G live-stream this imperious rite
Will put a stop to any cavil,
A cue in hand to excite ’n’ appease the inner devil,
I abide the coming, Evangeline!
Cordial satisfaction, marvellous plantation of joy,
Memento mori, I must this very moment, I must die.
Categories:
cavil, imagery, imagination, immigration,
Form: Free verse
As a certified, bona fide woman of a grown-up sixteen,
she light-stepped with grace thru the baroque castle.
She wanted to tell her Father of the déjà vu she gleaned
at last night’s élan party scene with a man who dazzled.
She gave her fantasies carte blanche to freely travel
for she was but a love dilettante, still romance green
and unsure what her anomaly feelings could mean.
She found the King, Father, leaning on an avant-garde mantel,
his manner ennui, despite the cacophony of swords at cavil.
Knowing her, he said, "No talk of new suiters, many already battle."
... CayCay Jennings
January 25, 2018
Categories:
cavil, conflict, father daughter, romance,
Form: Free verse
Here I stood, drenched with idiosyncrasy of evil rain;
Utterly dazed by what was said to be brightness,
Yes! I was poked in the eye by the dazzling lights of the terrain,
And I kept on swimming in the withered waters of wilderness.
I gave myself in, and was being smashed on an anvil just to go wasted.
Admonishing instincts gave me a cavil, but the fan for life, I really wanted.
Everything was okay, but the air, was it really soothing?
Oh no! I believe there was no fun to it at all.
What there was to it was really making me appall.
Now, I am overwhelmed with joy for I am king.
I was made king when He tapped me on the shoulder with affinity;
When I gave in and admitted it was all vanity.
He never cast me to doom though I was a slave of doom.
A new day I have seen, and will never get intimidated by gloom.
Categories:
cavil, adventure, appreciation, bible,
Form: Quatorzain
I do not like my state of mind
I'm bitter, querulous, unkind.
I hate my legs, I hate my hands,
I do not yearn for lovelier lands.
I dread the dawn's recurrent light;
I hate to go to bed at night.
I snoot at simple, earnest folk.
I cannot take the gentlest joke.
I find no peace in paint or type.
My world is but a lot of tripe.
I'm disillusioned, empty-breasted.
For what I think, I'd be arrested.
I am not sick, I am not well.
My quondam dreams are shot to hell.
My soul is crushed, my spirit sore;
I do not like me any more.
I cavil, quarrel, grumble, grouse.
I ponder on the narrow house.
I shudder at the thought of men...
I'm due to fall in love again."
Categories:
cavil, lost love, sad, hate,
Form: I do not know?
… to Stoop to that Level
… I have to Fall from Grace
… that Which is Beneath Me
only Educe a Downcast Face
… but, I would never Lower My Standard
to Equal a Crazed
Unconscionable Candor
And Rancor Debased…
… so, Snip, Snap, Yip and Yap …
Honestly, I’ll Pray for ‘ Me ’ and You
… for That, is the Wide Gap
and Difference Between The Dry Well and Living-Water True
yet, I Humbly Bow My Head
so I can Lift Up Hope…
… and Hands and Hearts-make-Glad
… to Voices Shared … in Words ‘He’ Spoke
‘Cause, I am ‘ ‘MoonBee ‘ … I’ll Not Cavil
and to Let My Light Shine …
I’ll Never Stoop to That Level
… I Must Only Rise … and Climb …
Categories:
cavil, allegory, daughter, devotion, faith,
Form: Light Verse