ODE TO MONEYLENDERS
Oh, what designs can one possess
Lending succour to those with naught
Such desperate need one must confess
And how hard one must have fought
When courtesy has no more currency
With those to whom one is indebted
And there is a sad loss of coherency
Then additional loans must be netted
Limited choices never were the best
Yet lenders all may seem attractive
In selecting just one from all the rest
One does have to be quite proactive
Yet each time, the first steps are easy
Later payments getting ever harder
Mounting dues can make one queasy
It can be hunger and an empty larder
Interest becomes the pound of flesh
With debts spiralling out of control
Raw need and sympathy never mesh
As timely repayment is ever the goal
Whether institutional or private loan
More than money may be involved
Property as capital soon sets the tone
And any timely exit is rarely solved
Pleasant outcomes appear quite rare
Borrowing is always a slippery slope
With risk of ending in a pit of despair
And yet for some, there is still hope
GIFY: By Tokyo Mega Plex
Naught Meant To Be
"I used to know you as the best, but now I don't remember your name?"
--Anonymous quote
Best friends who imagined were inseparable,
who did things together as one or otherwise,
such seems to please both till the inevitable,
as these dynamics that befell did jeopardize.
Coherency part ways due to varied questions,
defended futile answers facing the heedless,
as gunfire of a tit-for-tat shelled confessions,
blanks are laden via ammo with dark secrets.
Each wave of regret and surge of apologies,
crashed mercilessly on an unforgiving coast,
plus in the face of our modern technologies,
entirely aiming clear attempted their utmost.
As forbearance slips at a faraway crossroad,
dual forces unwittingly catch some time out,
as acquaintances noticed our esteem erode,
confidence shadowy loses, without a doubt.
Best friends who imagined were inseparable,
coherency part ways due to varied questions,
each wave of regret and surge of apologies,
as forbearance slips at a faraway crossroad.
2020 December 11
*2nd Place*
My Created Form- Rhyme4 Mix
~~Constance La France
Knees against a forehead
Eyes hiding with no one searching
Feet chilled by the warmth of a tile
Anger ballooning, despair puncturing
Passive by nature, tortured by sutures.
Drops flow to flood, from transparent to red
Bonds of blood, not bound to bear
Actions seen, a joke glinting of an edge
Words could soothe, if only the tone was true
Tomorrow made fictitious, by every second passed.
Rest should be a means to recover
Dreams are feint where reality threads
Asleep but awake, lying is deceptive
Living in doubt, fear is a constant draught
Misery presides over expression, concealment, a futile tendency.
Able limbs, succumb to aching muscles
Exercise relieves, when discipline is not limp
Reflections diminish, definitions visibly inhibited
Comfort is sought in volumes, defeat consumes most
Hungry for happiness, groping for restraint.
Silence strangles, vocalisations stuttered
Language a forte, tearing away at a fort
Coherency absent, clauses incomplete
Penance maybe, for cultured sins
Seeds of hope, infertile to a depressed soul.
I live the life of a vagabond poet
now approaching my winter years.
A time for reflection
through introspection
of my true heart's desires.
A time when challenges
maraud my mind's coherency
through listless lamentations
of evasive lexicon...slipping away.
Do I mourn now or deny?
Questions that I ask myself
in solitude of quiet moments
as I accept that change is inevitable
and necessary to evolve.
I vaticinate virtues of future endeavors
that may bring comfort to family
after my spirit leaves this earthly body.
Winsome words wend their way
through cobwebs veiling twilight times.
8-13-18
poverty stricken rally,
swing low sweet chariots...
no one to take me home
middle class no more, low verses the rich,
win to lose,
never win win..
too bad for the nation,
too bad for the world,
ratification melting in the dreams of our lives,
days get shorter,
nights filled with bottomless swill
the crust of the universe
churning the good to evil,
elite to elite,
middle class no more..
how far we have carried the nation,
from grounds to skyscrapers,
solvency to desolation,
coherency of our nation,
riddled with holes,
spewing the liquidity of middle class bums
and flooding the pockets of the rich..
salvation evaporated and now saturated with
half of the universe ..
help no more..
no one to save us
our lives are now merely maintainable
and no longer enjoyable
retirement is a fear of the others...called middle class
I glanced over at him
and my face burned at his exotic gaze
I wanted to be with him, if only in his arms for a moment
knowing it was turning into a flat out sexual stare
I could still not bare to look away
his eyes were melting everything inside me
those sapphire eyes
glittering brilliantly in the sunlight
somehow seemed brighter here in the night
As if on auto pilot, I somehow found myself standing in front of him
without caring how
While he nonchalantly sat on what I then noticed was a marble bench and smiled
that seemed to have jell-owed the rest of my body
because I found myself sitting beside him, now staring at his plump lips
and then they were molded to mine
my liquid body suddenly lit on fire, from head to toe
I pulled away, unsure of who kissed who
when he said something I will never forget
"Darling, I have been waiting for you.
No more room for sadness my sweet; I am the other half of your soul."
All I could manage to utter back, with only partial coherency, was
"I knew you would come." Because somehow I did
I know how it feels to die
For lungs to be emptied of air
Fighting in vain to save myself
Screaming in my mind its not fair
I know what death feels like
Detached and completely surreal
In the final seconds of coherency
Calmly realizing fate in real
When the struggle for life is over
ANd the battle you realize you've failed
Your memories play back like a movie
Replaying every moment, every detail
Of course when you're only 7
Your thoughts are little more
Than mentally reaching for mom and dad
Recalling a crush on the boy next door
I know how it feels to die
I know the silence and the fear
At least I won't get caught off gaurd
The next time death announces he's here
Desperate I cling to my last nerve of sanity
Desolate I feel submerged in autonomy
Unable to cope my senses grasp for exposure
Incapable of coherency I reach for a bolster
Vindicated by lifes cruelty my mind severs contemplation
Ostracized by popularity emotions wreak devastation
Paralysed with trepidation my heart sways ambiguous
Weary I surrender somewhat squashed and loose
Verily my condescension anoints me further to boot
Dejected, desolate, drained and darkened
Trodden I deem it futile and end approach
Incessant talk that bores you to death.
Nothing of value can be lifted from the conversation.
Screaming inside, wondering how long will the torture last?
Like nails on a chalkboard you can not escape.
The tongue flapping wildly with no coherency.
Wondering if being placed in the same room as him or her is a conspiracy?
Frozen in a state of a stupor without an exit.
The universal word of help is all that you can hope for.
Scanning the room for that invisible door.
He or she is someone that I would like to put on an indefinite delay.
The scientific term for him or her is called a popinjay.
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