(For Keith)
Strands of DNA do what our life does
Coil in pairs, bonding with available others
To define one’s self,
As above, so below
As within, so without,
And so it goes, our lives spiraling onward
And outward
A path beyond our control
A path filled with chance meetings
In a world where nothing is really left to chance
A path of change if nothing else
Spiraling ‘round our changeless nature
And all for what?
The chance to simply be
In the doing
The chance to love and know others
And so get glimpses of ourselves
In joy and sorrow
Sharing it all as it goes
Round and round
This mortal coil has a beginning and end
But surely Life goes on
Within us and without us
Leaving its mark
So easily recalled
With the smile upon their face
(8/20/26)
~The breath drawn deep is but a borrowed stay,
~~A fleeting spark within the endless night,
~~~~Where light and shadow's. in a silent play,
~Will fade and flicker, in the morning light.
~~~~~~~The bud unfurls, a vibrant splash of green,
~Bloom in sunlight, then wilt in autumn's chill;
~~~~~~~~~~~~ragile beauty on a fleeting scene,
~~~~~~~~Caroming seasons on a lonely hill.
~~~~~~~~~~~So man appears, a whisper in the wind,
~~~ A passing thought in time's unconcerned hand,
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~A story written, ultimately sinned,
~ ~~~~~~~~~Before the final grains of silver sand.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~We rise and fall, as ocean's restless tide,
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Where the universe enigmas reside.
my humanity
wrestled with mortality
mortality won
The tunes of my cries goes
Why the breathe, the life?
A question that has creapt its way in and taken root into my very soul
At times a wail but mostly a cry to be freed of it all
Why?
No recollection of a choice but here i breath
So fluid life goes yet i fight the reality of conciousness
A fight of seemingly boudless choices but non exists
Why?
I take consolidation in an inevitable end but when?
Not beyond a childlike wrinkly existence but hoping for less yet clinging on for more
The hypocrisy, the cowardice and double standard is a shame i carry
Why?
One day...could be now, a minute a head or more time than i hoped for, it shall all come to a conclusion
Hopefully soon but not too soon
By Aaron Onen
Until it's time to pop my clogs,
shuffle off this mortal coil,
I'll ensure my life is fun-filled
not just daily drudgery and toil.
As all work and no play
would make me one dull boy,
listless, senseless, bored witless,
not my Mother's pride and joy.
And so, in closing, I'm compelled to say,
"Exercise free will,
don't wait, hesitate or trust to fate,
before you're over the hill."
There was a young man named Fred
(the tooth fairy lived in dread)
a wild flamboyant from afar
the spice island Zanzibar
a singer he'd been
and sang a good song
with four-octave range
in the band called Queen
tho' considered 'strange'
with plus four in the upper jaw
he had more teeth than most
once nicely depraved
now dead and gone
when he gave up the ghost
shuffled offstage his mortal coil
was no more than toast
finally went bust
of him it was said,
'Another one bites the crust!'
Along this misery coil
Dust drifting on currents ebbing in
Approaching storms, lightning
flickering is sheets along thunderheads
That builds on a hot summer evening
Along this misery coil
The humidity drips from the flesh like oil
A hot engines scream with steam
Billowing into the twilight sky
Vacant windows with odd old
yellow lights wink on
In the hot evening
Burning tonight
Along this misery coil
Shadows slide along walls
Old n odd along the hollow ground
A sliver of silver flashes into the humid
Unforgiving night, as dark clouds
Pass on to a horizon vast, a white moon comes
On a hot summer evening, shines
Humid, pale light glows softly under the
Indigo sky, streetlights flickering
Slick silver rain falling, tumbling into wells vast
Headlights slice through the murky, muggy air
Along this misery coil, shadows fail.
On spewing wave, our departing ride
Crazed currents crack, an azure slide
Freedom mingles in sea foam seethe
Cobra throat coast gulps river relieve
Estuary entry rests, rushing ruthless
Canoe oar dip downtempo soothe us
Convulsing closing, seen from stern
To mayhem mouth we shan’t return
Silver silt filters salt, lake lap littoral
Ranges ahead etch graduating blues
Drift beside reeds, bird pews hymnal
Harp strum seraphim strike chords
Nacreous nematodes writhe towards
Tiny sun centre lace tutus feverfew
Pirouette pirogue wet on dawn dew
Papery apron snapdragon bonnets
Bloom ten a stem syllable sonnets
Cut log capsule covets its heritage
Forested foothills fix ship wreckage
Fir hands welcome hung hammock
Cosy ocean recoil, mountains titanic
Sixth of November
- upstream -
Everywhere known as the Red Hot,
For which it is also Near Not
You try it skin won’t like the spot
Awaits the eye the worse-than-blot…
Everywhere hated for its smoke,
Smoke sneaking into eyes not a joke;
In emergency tears eyes soak,
Big frowns and squints by the taxed bloke…
What fire does is keep burning,
For a torched house triggered mourning,
Watchers; innards badly churning,
For fire fighter eyes turning!
Still, the best labor to hire
For kitchen jobs that don’t tire:
The plantains and yams we would fry
Or after some denied days cry,
The soup good chefs cook as a group
For events hyped by a paid troupe,
Hot fluid for brass monkey weather
To one save shakes like a feather…
Yes, for cold water we should boil
So that we won’t after bath coil.
A coil of the labyrinth winds deep into the night.
A path that is tortuous and falls
into terror turning left then suddenly right.
Something sits in a dark room
pondering the moves of kings.
Hearts imagine a world of fire.
Oppression of governments that are tangled
in the web of the labyrinth, like mist.
The mind of a God-King;
a man of Flesh and
Cyberdreams.
An intelligence that damns all
is spoiled by the blood of the innocents.
The coil of the labyrinth.
An enigma of future kings and minds of turmoil.
An empire of illogic; Chaos in a sea of control.
Coils wind deep into the Darkness…
The beast of myth is built by mankind.
As minds ponder the moves of kings,
the assassination of Queens.
Tangled in the coils of the spine.
A maze is ablaze in holy fire.
Labyrinth; it spirals deep
into the dusky fortress of kingdoms to come.
A torrent path full of dread at every twist and
turn whines deep into the night.
A path that is tortuous
falls into terror
turning left
then suddenly
right.
…a traitorous path at night!
my car sits there like a silver brick lying on the asphalt and here at the top of the street the gargoyles of the building know me and they know that at night I smoke in the dark corners of the patio biting nails counting bricks avoiding stepping on the ants while I levitate over the lawn and already It's been several days since I freaked out and the spiral was swallowing me like this so I don't quite understand the constellations I was guided by and I seem lost when I stare at the spines of books that could help me or when I insist on looking for my old clothes in boxes scattered around the city streets while you struggle between mundane commitments of powdered food and quick showers to wash off the filth of a world that misbehaves and spews poison on the news I avoid.
It wasn’t a green snake
That tried God’s enterprise to foil
Nor one of greenish make
That had man pushed into piteous toil.
The sun-loving green wouldn’t anything spoil,
As often it’s thinking of how to funnily coil,
This presuming to playfully act out on your very soil
While your odd animosities you oil
And not once, not twice, unnecessarily boil.
Dancing the words to lance the boil
With grace and style but no toil
Watering the soul’s thirsty soil
Poetry sings the mortal coil
Of barren, coarse, of wrath I speak
Long I pondered my passage through the Gates
Now I stand at the prow surrendered and bleak
Sailing my gondola like an eel through the Straits
Where I am at peace with falling off the cliff
Whizzing like an ancient spear
Swept from the earth in the moment of grief
Seeing all the pictures of life in retro, my dear.
Whence I will see what I could not see,
And I will feel what I could not feel
The depth of the calm and the sea
In the palaces of nothingness where I will peel
Planks of carved wood
With the images of what is known as love
It- that once stood
Deep inside of soul, in the heart and above.
Before others I stood and swore,
Before others I happily kissed,
As Orlando Furioso, I dare not ever soar,
Eyes closed that will never be missed.
This life is toil,
Scuffed and scrapped,
Yet a heavy mortal coil
In its breadth and its depth.
Am I destined for hell
An eternity of woes
The wraith waits addicted
And the demons fight for my soul
It seems I struggle
To abstain from
The temptation of this
Mortal coil
Our Savior
Did not die in vain
He was crucified, slain
And lifeblood drained
For all my sins future and past
So that I may have
Life everlasting
In God's eternal light
Eight Word Challenge Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
8/3/19
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