I'm writing my heart out clean tonight; my
Mask only read in your mummified veins;
I join your heart in its breaking's right—
I'd not meant you to be alone; these days.
I still grasp your dawn on me you made.
The hieroglyphics of your world
That never ciphered more a lovely soul—
The feminine Phoenix's winged image
By my heart and yours; though a crashed port—
Do we not still speak the same language
Categories:
ciphered, best friend, deep, devotion,
Form: Dizain
What ere were warm, inviting open doors,
To this man maudlin and defeated kind,
Unsure, frightened, his dog-tail tucked behind,
He now finds shut, keys lost at far off shores.
Asked of voyage, on adverse winds he whines,
Given a choice from a pair of evils,
He chooses both— he who to doubt inclines,
One sure can’t go wrong with his choice of ills.
Here’s him— lion’s gait with vigour and vim,
He minds no doors getting shut on his face
And looks a sure shot like a tennis ace,
Belief in him bouncing like rising cream,
All odds-against ciphered, game on a deuce,
And a shot that turns all don’ts unto dos!
_____________________________________________
Poet’s note: “To a pessimist, his opportunities look like difficulties.
To an optimist, the difficulties are like opportunities.”
I think it was Harry Truman who said this.
This Sonnet takes off from what he said.
Sonnets | 10.09.2012, revised April 2022 |
Categories:
ciphered, people,
Form: Sonnet
Written Not To Be Read
> It was before it was prophecied for what to prophecy the prophets dint exit but the prophecy like air we our lungs to it infrate so did it exist the dinosaurs extinct platypus indigenous but it infinity Isaac newton couldn't do the math today I eat n sleep to it not yet prophecied drink and wake to it only linguists language the babylonians ciphered we can't understand so I simplify it to don't speak of the unknown if the known you dnt know
Categories:
ciphered, dark,
Form: ABC
At sunset I stride
Towards solemn gloom
And wonder why sorrow is ciphered
Deciphered to those
Who sealed it
In a ciphered code
So I stride and seek
My secret query
and proceed with hope
Perhaps this is so
Because I have foreseen
What it feels to know
Ciphered sorrow is known to those
Who hugged it to keep it enclosed
Made it trip into the trap
To protect the world from mourn
Though they should know
What it truly feels
To cipher your own self’s code
It does sound as simple
as creating knots
Without worries of untangling
And so I stride
Alone in the midst
With my query unresolved
Caught up in my mist
To untangle the ciphered code
Though it is Deciphered
To those who seek It’s closure
Categories:
ciphered, emotions, sad, self, sorrow,
Form: I do not know?
The Internet or cyberspace needs you to trust it, even though embarrassing vulnerabilities will reveal your lack of wit.
Tech savvy users, ciphered chatting and risk calculus, reading the terms of service, as it could be the catalyst...
To consented digital surveillance, data-mining and analytical buffoonery, who can you choose to be if you are truly not free?
Cameras are everywhere, in the sky and in our pocket, accessed through transmission control protocol sockets.
The clear net is the internet minus the deep and the dark monikers, you can get high off your own supply of virtual encrypted liquors.
Download an app from any store and your identity may be stolen, by pirates with bad intentions, a wolf in sheeps’ clothing.
A sheep in wolves clothing, is software maliciously exploited, with he intent of hurting developers, hoping everyone will avoid it.
Now here comes the patches, updates and recommended use, just like substance abuse, addictive qualities will be produced.
Categories:
ciphered, philosophy, poetry, social, spoken
Form: Rhyme
“When the seasons become one,
you will know the end is near.”
--old Biblical proverb
Ginseng moon pollens night.
How long has it been? Your death
still an enigma, ciphered away,
riddled in remembrances
as years flit faces like gnats.
The sky is sateen,
a pale wash of embalmer’s rouge.
We revel in deceptions, careen
within fresh frescoes of lives.
The chrysalis of your body
incubates beneath milkweed
as we believe and disbelieve—
knowing it is not true
as we chant your name
numb on lips.
We slowly decompose
in our composings—
sheeping lives of scant substance
and indefinite meanings.
It all ends with gutted cliches,
so much russet berm spaded
layer on loamy layer
of shadowy fontanels—
a high lonesome song
weakly mimicked
in mimosa wind.
Categories:
ciphered, angst, death, introspection, loss,
Form: Free verse