They have zero charisma
Republicans give off no sparks
Richard Nixon, so woeful wooden
He was carved from Noah’s Ark
Ike and Mamie, a pair so excruciatingly dull
They spelled ‘live action’ – L U L L
And next to JFK’s wife, Jacqeline
Mamie was a dime-store mannequin
Fess up, GOP, you’re a party of Mitch McConnells
Liven up, like that Democrat clown ~ Ronald McDonald
She sits composed, not as a woman,
but a lavish landscape of angles and cubes,
a psychic collage of splintered dissonance,
framed in fractured facade of anguish.
The body portioned into pile of unsettling planes,
the face split between skewed profiles,
the misaligned eyes displaced downward,
the limbs contorted into implausible grace.
All depict the geometry of emotion,
not a reshuffled shape of reality,
an embodiment of inconsistent identity.
The jade fingernails disrupt
the flowing fractured form
with glowing color of concealed liveliness,
or of radiant rebellion, a disguised diligence
that something within her
opposes the distorted repression.
The facial deformation isn’t a style preference,
etched on unusual emotional visage,
but an artistic assertion of authority.
Yet, with the display of her amazing vivacity
defacing doesn’t demolish Dora Maar,
but accentuates her charisma.
Inspired by Dora Maar With Green Fingernails by Pablo Picasso
painting The Mona Lisa by Leonardo daVinci
"The way the smile flickers makes it a work of both art and science...
all of it goes into making the Mona Lisa's smile so mysterious and elusive." —
Walter Isaacson
I know something's wrong, when her brown eyes turn dark
yet when she is smiling, their green strikes a spark.
Note her long dark, black hair, deficient of style;
Tossing her head could make the smile more worthwhile.
While her ruby red lips lack any luster,
if she'd truly smile, I'd feel I could trust her.
The color of a smile that breaks forth unfurled?
It's charisma, pure light that brightens the world.
She sits composed, not as a woman,
but a lavish landscape of angles and cubes,
a psychological collage of splintered dissonance,
visible in the fractured facade of grief.
The body portioned into pile of unsettling planes,
the face split between the skewed profiles,
the misaligned eyes displaced down,
the limbs contorted into implausible grace.
All depict a geometric frame of emotion,
not a reshuffled shape of reality,
an embodiment of inconsistent identity.
The jade fingernails disrupt the flowing fractured form
with glowing color of concealed liveliness,
or of radiant rebellion, a disguised persistence
that something within her opposes deformed repression.
The facial deformation isn’t just style preference,
etched on unusual emotional visage,
but an artistic assertion of authority.
Yet, with the display of her amazing vivacity
the distortion doesn’t demolish Dora Maar,
but accentuates her charisma.
Inspired by Dora Maar With Green Fingernails by Pablo Picasso
What are goofy things
Being awkward,
telling dumb jokes and stories,
or wearing crazy clothes
are all great ways to be goofy.
Why are my stories so bad
I never thought them goofy
The lady say's I'm a jerk.
I never thought I was being useless
She said I had a silly grin.
I thought I was smiling.
I admit to loving you
You are ashamed of me
aren't you?
A goofy smile is sweet
unless you don't wanna be sweet.
Why am I sweet anyway
or are you just mean and sour
and repel great looking men
Huh? Come on tell me.
Please tell me why you know
so much?
Tell me why you're so special.
I'm proud and debineer
cool and sophisticated
I got that rizz about me
I got that rizz about me
i really;really do
an alarming rhizz go tell your friends
tell them I'm that great and entertaining
Goofy, nah I'm Rizomatic
This word was created today
the word was brand new.
Under the seamless sky sparkling with satin sheen
the reflection of the mesmeric moon holds you
afloat on the fervent waves of the stardust surge.
I’m silently drawn by the patina of your charisma.
That’s how my dormant desire awakens enticed
by your shimmering radiance of the moonshine
as my vision is enwrapped by the tapestry of dream
weaved with the spectral strings of your longing.
Like the crown of the pearly dew you embellish
the beguiled blades of grass of my flushing meadow
I call my yearning sanguinely spread to where you are
on the new turquoise trail traced out only for me.
Like the silver streaks on the waltzing waves of the sea
I see you dance on the crests of ebullient euphoria.
In the mystique night drenched by moondust drizzle
you sparkle like the diadem of bejeweled cobalt sky.
The true essence of love I then perceive entranced
in the aria of your tinsels gleaming within me,
while the enchanting luster of your celestial shine
pulls me toward you to glow forever as a star.
Springtime facade shines on convivial tapestry,
Monet’s luminous landscape of vibrant vivacity
within sparkling blue lagoon of dreaming eyes.
On luscious lips the petals of blooming lotus lie,
painted on the satin canvas of cute countenance,
designing narcissistic features of innate elegance
with the hues of Dorian Gray syndrome subdued
by pervading pride of indomitable youth imbued.
On the withered canvas the wheels of time creep,
the spider of age weaves the web of wrinkles deep.
Weary eyes look forlornly at weathered wasteland,
wilted lips lose luster of lotus once lovingly grand.
Hedonist psyche refuses to accept the fated loss,
even when time comes for the last mile to cross.
What is a face if not a metaphor for trait panorama,
snapshot in beholder’s eyes of concealed charisma.
Charisma of a champion
Strength of a Mount Olympus deity
Superstar hero larger than life
A fanclub like no other
A base of faithful devotees
buying into the showman's dream
the illusion
the fantasy
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Karma and Charisma
couldn’t be more unlike
Charisma peddled effortlessly
Karma fell off his bike
Ebony hair cascades untamed,
swirls in longing squall
on your ivory forehead,
engraves contours of charisma.
Eyes flash sapphire sheen,
flutter in yearning air,
enshrining design of dreams
away from wilderness wind.
Rosy patina smears cheeks,
zephyr spreads luring scent.
Enchanting visage of glamour
entices me in reverie.
Luscious lips of rose,
sparkle with lilac luster,
quiver as satin petals.
Your smile I capture.
The sparkle of indigo lagoon,
portrayed in the entranced ebullient eyes,
the lustrous lotus petals of luscious lips,
blooming on the fervent face,
carved once with narcissistic contours of pride,
ingrained the subdued Dorian Gray syndrome.
The winter spider of twilight has weaved
webs with facial furrows of faded charm,
the lips of pale flower have lost
the patina of passion, enticing once.
The smoky eyes now gaze forlorn
from the wall of the empty parlor.
The picture with the instilled aura of stilled time
doesn’t encase the anguish of loss,
for it epitomizes the notion,
what is a face if not a metaphor
for the panorama of proclivity,
the enduring snapshot of mesmeric moment,
captured within the timeless elegant frame
of untarnished concealed charisma.
gift with great force
to veer course for
its source to love
Springtime facade shines
in embellished topography,
embroidered enshrined on
Monet landscape,
luminous
in effervescent elegance
with sparkle of blue lagoon
in dreaming ebullient eyes,
entranced,
and with lustrous lotus petals
of luscious lips
fervent,
painted on silken canvas
of magnetic countenance,
carved with narcissistic contours
of innate pride
with dormant Dorian Gray syndrome
subdued.
The sands of time
roll over wrinkled canvas,
winter twilight spider weaves
webs of facial furrows
of creased contentment,
empty eyes gaze,
forlorn
at weathered wasteland,
the lips of faded flower lose
passion patina,
enticing once,
hedonist psyche refuses
to gauge the grief of loss,
trapped in transient notion
sanguine,
for what is a face
if not a metaphor
for proclivity panorama,
the enduring snapshot
capturing mesmeric moments
in timeless frame
of concealed charisma,
contained.
The chromatic cords
of splendorous spring
embroider arcane art
on convivial tapestry
embellished elegance
dramatically drapes
the luminous landscape
of vibrant vivacity
as dream-drenched
blue lagoon
gets lashed
by idyllic eyelids
and
the lotus petals
of luscious lips
painted poignant
on silken canvas
of content countenance
the dulcet design
of narcissist facade
of innate pride
swathes furtively
the secret scars
of suppression syndrome
expunged.
The toiling time
revolves relentless
on convoluted canvas
etched with
fading felled leaves
of auburn autumn
in life consumed
while
the winter spider
weaves with strands
of twilight moments
the ordained web
with senile streaks
around hollow eyes
staring forsaken
at forlorn fringe
of weathered wasteland
as the lustrous lips
the fading flowers
lose withered
pristine patina
hedonist psyche
refuses to gauge
the grief of loss
the face morphs
into metaphor
for living panorama
captured by
the sanguine snapshot
of concealed charisma.
In the mystical charisma of Sunrise.
I see a hint everything turning out,
thoughtfully,
in an unthought of way.
A way that is like hidden gold.
A way that is paved so as to not owe
for anything.
The price having already been paid.
The secret, the heart having more
than meets the eye- within it.
It,
knowing when to act, what to do,
just how to thank the Lord.
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