Spine chilling velocity
Willing feverish ferocity
Pollution spilling atrocity
Pushes our buttons
Top billing forging
Fiendish drilling pomposity
Gluttons gorging in the isles of muttons
Coining the term “purloining”
Plunder even here down under
Cast asunder..can hear the thunder
In the proud land of
The long white cloud
Scold from the fold to heal
But won’t listen..do a deal
Gaudy gems appeal..glisten
History sold for pieces of gold
Cower to phoney crony power
Dour Parasites roll the dice
Show pony baloney hour
Off their heads...now divining
Mining our whining sea beds..
Palaver of scour..devour and sour
Splice our shining slice of paradise
Vice rather than stories of glories told
Voraciously gobbling veracity
Audaciously hobbling precocity
Generosity wobbling even in the home
Of lengthy Cumulus Curiosity…
Not being funny
In this Land of Milk & Honey
Won’t kowtow to the cash cow
Getting out of hand
Because the answer forever
Whatever will never ever
Be just money!
Categories:
coining, paradise,
Form: Rhyme
I cannot become flat
My curves are not straight lines
My die is cast, forged by fire
Yet I try to bend it for you
I put the blow torch to my heart
Coining it over the anvil
Pressing it to new form
Old shapes long forgotten, new again.
Made to please you
Buffed to mirrored shine.
A reflection, or a phantom.
But it is not me.
Now the next shine has your eye
It is mine again.
Melted down with self-improvement
Made strong again
Never again to hammer against myself
Knowing the value of imperfection
Stay true to the die-cast
Compromise but do not conform.
Categories:
coining, growth,
Form: Free verse
Does anyone ask a bird to sing or a rose to bloom?
Does anyone comfort a butterfly in times of gloom?
Reaping nectar is built into a honeybee's instinct.
Aren't thoughts and feelings, like chains of pearls, with mind and heart linked?
Themes, like flowers and leaves of the autumn, are before me.
I had to, as a gentle breeze, lift them and make them free.
Words sometimes flow freely, like whirling rivers in a flood.
They get blocked at other times and put pressure in my blood.
Are similes and metaphors, like celluloid romance,?
They're sometimes fireless furnaces and other times full of trance.
Isn't the coining of words like hunting the wildest beasts?
I pursue after them, yet, as though they are my heartbeats
A cosmos with galaxies is hidden in each little song
My poems, like endless gold or diamond mines, throng long
In times of endless emptiness, I take refuge in these
In turbulence and turmoil, aren't these arts that grant me peace?
Categories:
coining, poems, poets,
Form: Rhyme
You are all vehement and gutsy
Putting across even the wrong forcefully
With vulgarity drawing a bow or curtsy
From a righteous man smeared shamefully
You care not for truth but to win
Teasing an argument to tear down whoever dares
With heads coining every justification for sin
To wear out the fervency of any man who cares
That’s how the world is under the evil one’s sway
A lordless codeless lot living for pleasure
Taking license of way and stray
And their wildest wishes are their treasure
They squander their prime
It is theirs to spend as they please
So long as the sin is not a crime
Their deadened conscience allows with ease
How many wishes have we heard from the frail
And how many regrets on the deathbeds
What does the realization of failure entail
That the end now unravels the soul’s dreads
Yet the cycle continues in the midst of counsel
Ye be wise that you descendants may live
Sit and reason only in a Godly council
And Godliness shall be all you take and give
K. Muitherero.
Categories:
coining, god, life,
Form: Rhyme
I am coining thoughts
Like copper pennies and most loved quarters
I am gathering leaves and flowers
as Spring is giving so much grace
But I am dropping moments and time
I am missing the season
because I am in love
It confuses the senses
befuddles the brain
Leaves appear on trees but cannot enter my brain
I am lost in a foggy imagination of your hand in mine
I am trying to find it but
You create such total confusion
Love is making me loose time
I am a thing of delusions
Lost in your rhyme
I am little but a bed time story
Living on meteor time
I long to see it and be present to the everlasting gorgeousness that is happening which is priceless never to be retrieved time
But all I know is your echo
And the dream of your hand in mine
Categories:
coining, love,
Form: Free verse
Owe a debt of gratitude to my dear friend Mo
For coining this clever word, that describes a new plateaux
As clever as she seems
Not close, she literally beams
With brilliant brain stuff, that's “mo” apropos
Categories:
coining, class,
Form: Limerick
This what would happen in an alternate Universe
Many things would be different and oceans dispersed.
There's no such thing as hunger, water or air.
Because everyone's a vapor without any care.
C
We float around ambiguously trying to speak
Listening to the sounds of the impermeable weak
No one told you about this project ongoing
It's called X gene, selfless absorbing
R
It turns you into a gene pooled blob
Alters your DNA and pops your corn cob
Making popcorn with your soul
Seemingly making you whole.
A
This is what happens when you take too much
Your brain will end up on the sidewalk and such
Basically you won't ever come back
From smoking and smoking that god awful crack.
C
Drugs are bad mmkay
This what I say
K
Stay in drugs, go to milk and don't do school.
See what happens, now who’s the fool?
Anyone annotates astutely astounds
But baby bounces ballistic-ally brags
Can catching crazy come coining creativeness?
Categories:
coining, addiction, analogy, best friend,
Form: Rhyme
Time has created writers of century
Praised aloud for writings honorary
Prized globally with invaluable glory
Turning lines to deep thinking story
Magic of dots lead revolution purely
Unleashing world’s important history
Coining perfect pieces called literary
Lines curving to meaning revolutionary
Endowment to write thoughts freely
Though some being looked at angrily
Still the words shining more brightly
Eternal gift of Locke, Voltaire, Rousseau …
Pen is a mightier weapon said truly
Those who deny know not its beauty
Played ne with unequalled lines simply
Unwitnessed so far the unveiled mystery
Languages varied , spoken distinctly
Yet idée exchanged among commonly
Lines need a glance of heart’s purely
Then ideas turn to innovation surely
O Line! Has a start, ends with finally
Nevertheless continues even blankly
So many meanings in dictionary
Form conversations even nonverbally
Parts, Play, prose or poetry
Adds life to non breathing – silently
Writers gifted to use its versatility
Line turned a treasure noted timely
Four letter carries connotation widely
Unseen still there …simply…plainly…explicitly
Categories:
coining, imagination, on writing and
Form: Rhyme
Colors splashed upon a canvas
Expounding rhyme and reason
The paintbrush tells a story
Of love, trust and treason
A flux of emotions spread abroad
Fusing hues of green and teal
Blueprinting a love gone wrong
Phantasmagoric and surreal
Falling tears of cobalt blue
Emblazoned with crimson red
Blended well with vivid scarlet
Depicting a heart that bled
Melding oils on a palette
Coining shades of black and gray
Distraught strokes glaze the surface
Warranted rage on display
Fuchsia construes your courtesan
Infidelity exposed in viridian light
Goldenrod and lemon chiffon
Symbolize this woman's blight
A recollection of betrayal
Expressed in abstract art
Hung upon a gallery wall
Portrait of a broken heart
Categories:
coining, angst, life, lost love,
Form: Rhyme