So, now, you all are positive
Ted Osprey is a fugitive,
That his last name is not Osprey:
A smart corruption of Godfrey
While his 'Ted' First should have been, Fred;
Some would rather he's called 'Red'...
And you're also quite positive
He was no clean operative,
Rather working for evil men
Soon staying in a house, next den...
Clear, Godfrey is now on the run:
For having turned on three his gun,
Because if he did not 'just gone!'
And would be mourned by nearly none.
The choice is yours to Fred murder
Or take this complex thing further:
And while I await your answer
In Fred's house incense and censer.
Categories:
censer, conflict, death, fear, violence,
Form: Rhyme
Soon, it got up to Dr. Spencer
Burning incense on coppery censer
In pursuit of a fitting answer
To the craziest hard hitting cancer:
A line he’d toed for an ulcer
And it result gave him for Gastric Seltzer…
Krishna clouds their way making for a breast,
Not for once letting be the crest,
Incense one, Incense two, up to eleven
In lieu of healing verses to The Heaven.
For a doctor openly radical
It shouldn’t often be the medical
Nor often needful the rightly surgical,
For cancer that could shame the methodical.
Categories:
censer, anxiety, cancer, care, health,
Form: Rhyme
The censer clanks
the smoke rises.
An attempt is made
to hypnotize.
It wafts across
the naive
The priest like
a magician has
a trick he uses
to deceive.
The incense odor,
causes a spiritual
trip.
Chanting in Latin,
locks his grip.
Affecting only
those who are on
a guilt trip.
A stronger odor
fouls the air.
Stench from children gropers,
that the vestment clad
denier shares.
Categories:
censer, abuse, betrayal, child abuse,
Form: Free verse
Broken strings fill blank stares
From the spectators in the crowded stands.
On sea or sand, carnal essence fills censer bowls
Spraying the prayers of the undiluted
Up and out of cement cracks and cluttered attics.
Born to disease, my shadow.
Born with it in a basket of nonperishable goodness
And glory filled step ladder success stories thirty feet high.
It’s the principle of the matter of fact.
Facts forced by the fathers to forget and forfeit by the foot.
Falling down is not the look the way it seems.
It’s never that pleasing.
Reverbs echo it back again.
If only there was a way to make it bounce, we would have it made.
If only we meant what we really mean.
Life full and completely:
the absolute beginning of all things,
under the stars,
under the heavens,
underneath it all.
Categories:
censer, life,
Form: Free verse
Byzantine chapel
You had to swim a few meters until the find, you had to cut right and into the
rock is stuck the cave. I always felt like a small Byzantine dome that part. An
ancient Christian church remaining to wait until the end of the times. I thought
that I saw byzantine frescos painted in stone. Dride out faces looking at me
silent and serious. Tied with humidity, clams and starfish And salt spilling on
their hair and beards. People ready to make fires. Eyes like calcined charcoal
with crabs tied In garment. Steady, hard and fair fathers, breaths sulfur. The
light flowed from the top to the center with a thin gap. Algae and sea-urchins
like spilt Censer without burning incense and green stones as offerings in the
Sanctuaries left at random. The water reaches the middle and bottom well in
solid sand. I was ashamed to come in the sanctuary of sanctuaries Alone
because their quietness is heavy and their aim holy.
Categories:
censer, blessing, childhood, courage, dedication,
Form: Dramatic Monologue