Whittled skittled Bazball skint
Belittled lost the glint of Clint
Have a dig make my day big hint
Whatever they say never skinflint
In every stint we will always sprint
Hope dope blueprint trope's mint
The jibber jabber about the Gabba
White knights or ghoulish frights
Stagefright day night under lights
Highlights or more foolish flights
In the ascendancy have that tendency
Heresy or do they deserve clemency
Jealously let them preserve their legacy
Lose again barricaded in the Embassy
Stokes blokes smokes with their high jinx
Ben’s mens sneaky kinks find the chinks
Bazball minx in sync with cheeky winks
Glasses clinks as fans sinks their drinks
Nearly boys ploys bring us back from the brink
What do you think ..will our envoys annoy shrink
Another pity ditty in a sweltering city.. sh**ty stink
Or blink ignore the noise....spurred on by the slurs
Purrs like the Psychedelic Furs..joys of Pretty in Pink?
a pomegranate’s
split vulnerability –
chinks in the armour
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
an autumn sunrise –
a bird’s melodious song
breaks the morning hush
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
September memos –
sporadic lightning scribbles
on congested clouds
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Arms locked, Strength in Unity ~
Chinks in the armor of disharmony
Reflect on this proverb, oh worthy hermit
'A chain is only as strong as its weakest link'
So let us look deep within the core of our being
To discern the cause why time and again we sink
Bemused by myriad illusions our mind is hypnotised
Flitting about unsatiated between objects of desire
But fleeting moments of joy are followed by pain
Elusive seems eternal bliss for which we aspire
The root cause of suffering then is ignorance
For we flounder about knowing not who we are
In bondage to feral instinct, we discern not the truth
From God’s domain of love and light, we’ve drifted afar
With this recognition, once we shift into tranquil silence
The chinks in our armour are automatically repaired
Divine aligned, love drenched soul stands erect
Mind, body and soul finally with God paired
09-February-2023
Proverbial Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Margarita Lillico
He lights cigarettes not his regular,
The Poorest Tobacco making popular,
For it parting with hard earned chinks
And its service enjoying with blinks;
Beer not his proclaimed Brand
Still finds its way into his hand;
To its bringer The Longest Hug,
Much of the beer spilled on a rug …
A woman in the skin-tight
Has made her flaws light,
He willing to be quiet
And concentrate on inner riot …
He is The Permissive Hedonist,
Not qualified to rubbish An Animist:
Feeder on Worldly Pleasures,
Bat-blind to other treasures.
HEAD TO HEAD
tête-à-tête, Rita and I
two heads are better than one
in praise’n prayer
melodic lips of kin
our moms in heaven
lift
their lullaby assist
our hopes in cradled arms
we worship in different sects
but today we’re linked—
part of the extended army
no chinks in God’s armor
my people pray
carry me on my way
no demonic-dinosaur
no rattling dragon
nor human-pittance
comes in our way
they’d be destroyed
with just one thought
of hate
we love—
one heart, one Lord,
our neighbors
our differences deposited at the door
we share a smile
our gospel feet
smell rather sweet
2/10/2022
Fathering a baby after surrendered hopes,
Alive remaining after wearing the ropes,
The Surviving Staff of a job- relieving Shuffle,
A beggar winning a million dollar raffle.
A chance to live again from a charity medication,
A missing valuable finding in a busy location,
A free ride t a far- off town,
Whose trekking would we invited a frown.
Free bottles of one’s choice drinks
At a time of aggressive thirst but no chinks,
Fortune smiling at one in a neighborhood
One Next-door had yet to oblige one brotherhood,
Goodies at one ceaselessly rushing,
After dumping a job and about thrashing.
Grace-driven luck makes a somebody,
Of a written-off nobody.
Morning’s Broken Armor
by Sy Roth
Squeaky crawls the moon’s light
Falling briskly against the chinks in the window
Uneasy sleep
A voluble accompaniment to
An out-of-work cello.
Scooting, crawly insects beat against it
With a frenzy of scrawled brevity
Tattooed on its soft shell.
Horns bleat somewhere in the inky distance.
Town criers bellowing news to a somnolent brain.
Alternatives roll away from eyes
Cemented closed with a.m.’s dream glue
And the clinkety-clank of Sir Gawain’s armor
Makes its way into the room.
Declaring additional valid seconds
Feet flopping like pimpled pancakes ready for turning
To the cold floor
The morn ready to mourn another day.
A chain fails at its weakest link
Look for attachments, cause of fear
Mirroring desire, find these chinks
Once free, boundless bliss within spears
Let us now shift, into high gear
A chain fails at its weakest link
Surrender lets God, our life steer
Whilst ego cravings make us sink
Breeze with ease, at illusions wink
In this dream world, let our peers leer
A chain fails at its weakest link
Disappear; there is no one here
Save throb of love, hold nothing dear
Rest oh hermit, bliss nectar drink
When God draws near, all becomes clear
A chain fails at its weakest link
29-June-2021
The mistral cold wind blew incessantly wild,
Winding in the streets, its glacial currents in and around
The apartment blocks where all frosted windows
Were tightly secure. Still the bleak wintry chill entered
From tiny ruptured chinks and spread inside
Annihilating the miserly heat emitted
By old cranky air conditioners and gas heaters.
Occasional bursts of strong wind blew
Some soft snow up like winnowed chaff.
One hopes the homeless found some place to rest.
He sleeps late
because the milk cows have dried up
and the bulls long slaughtered.
There are no cowboys in the bunk house
just a couple of old chickens
pecking the dirt floor,
they produce, at most, one real egg a week
the rest are malformed by spilled ink.
However in the leaky cabin
the big brown teapot
is stuffed with scrapes of poetry
waiting to be led out into the dusty fields,
where the sun only rises and sets.
with no daylight in between.
As he does every day,
he seeks a hollow in his landscape
to bury words that should never see the light.
He knows that, over time, if left to themselves,
they will turn into little black spiders
that will spin their webs
between sunset and sunrise
creating a gaping gossamer breach
that will only lead to more fresh chinks
in the wormwood soul
of his tumbledown barn.
MY NEPHEW HAS A PROBLEM,
THAT REALLY TAKES ME BACK.
HE HATES PEOPLE FOR THEIR COLOUR,
ESPECIALLY IF THERE BLACK.
HE'S TOLD ME TIME AND TIME AGAIN,
ABOUT HIS SLANTED VIEWS.
HE HATES PEOPLE IN THE GHETTOS,
NiIGGERS, CHINKS AND JEWS.
THIS ATTITUDE HE HAS,
REALLY HAS TO STOP.
BECAUSE THE BIGGEST PROBLEM IS,
MY NEPHEW IS A COP.
Cal Bambi "The word artist" ©riginal - 1987
I paint pictures with words.
[email protected]
“I drive people away,
that’s what I do
To stay away
myself renewed”
My life was meant
To be lived alone
In spite of what
You think you know
Inside myself
My only home
Whose armor never
Chinks when stoned
My life bereft
I know to you
Seems lonely
Often misconstrued
But joy from heaven
Self-contained
Unto myself
Lives unrestrained
“If I drove you away, please take heart,
my back was turned to all
To die alone, my most fervent wish
—with no one left to call”
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2014)
Praise be given to the deep thinkers,
bards, writers, poets, and yarn spinners.
Sharing their wisdom through the ages,
they address both losers and winners.
Talented wordsmiths use witty words
to expose chinks in the human heart.
And allow us to experience
the emotions that their words impart.
Thank the artists who've taught us to see;
for they've opened humanity's eyes.
And as a collage of kindred souls
poets, ensure free thought never dies.
We grasp onto the reality
of our existence with a firm grip.
And yet, storytellers and actors
encouraged us to let that grip slip.
Awe tends to fade with maturity,
doubting the miracles that we've seen.
And spanning a lifetime of stories,
dreams take thoughts to a fantasy scene.
I sense the stillness of the hour;
A weighted silence overpowers;
I hear the ticker tock;
Mistook,
This heavy void of space;
For a true embrace.
There was a comfort in this isolation;
Now there is invasion.
I hear bombast cheers and chinks as glasses clink
We now enter the New Year shedding the old;
Be not afraid of what’s to find, be bold;
Set sights towards your renewed vows;
Leave pain and sorrow in the shadows;
Envisage hope and joy in universal terms;
As all united bound to this one earth.
Young Tech races, unfettered, unrelenting;
Old Social staggers to a halt, crutch bending.
For the sake of Auld Lang Syne, my friend,
For the sake of Auld Lang Syne.
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