the moon commences its' illusion
it rides the crest fully
survivor of Roche's Limit
survivor of human prediction
filling the night with shadow
my early morning walks
the light in the distance
calls thru canopied jungle path
the setting moon
stepping on the soft white beach
where a silver highway plays
in the rippling water, i am
the human past who long ago
beheld such a sight
without the shaman's cheap trick
nor the cold touch of science
have accepted the moon just is
beautiful to behold
we let each other be
we are one and the same
dancing thru the universe
and when this is no more
we will be lip to lip
i do not know what God is
and have no such need
yet whatever it is
it is magnificent
heaven lives to die
and in that death
life finds itself again
my wishes, mere mortal longing
that so might i
even Rimbaud capitulated
the reprobates fear of reprobation
and i have but one question
before the empyreal throne
is there in heaven, a moon
Norma's roof Santa Cruz 95
I agree it’s a flaw, to lack respect
For the usual silly proud words that match
Some symbolic achievement where I didn’t act
Didn’t bother to start “my way” from scratch
Wasn’t able to worry about learning curve
Didn’t listen to those dour faces drag
Took them maybe easier than they deserve
Never waved any bright or a bleached rag
I don’t have the required reserves of hypocrisy
Wouldn’t initiate any commences
Neither I stand for empire nor democracy
With folly defense at my own expenses
Call me a psycho gripped by indifference
Call me whatever you like but don’t kill
Deceased, I won’t add any sensual coherence
To the mess you alter thinking it’s your will.
Every day we are ushered as the school bells peal
To inaugurate the start of the next school day’s zeal
Everyday we pledge allegiance to our flag
And to our nation, and to our God we appeal
There is teaching and learning going on
As the custodian passes by each class
Removing black marks from the hallway floors
Cleaning finger smudges from the glass
He knows the goings-on and those coming and those going
He knows what to do in the heat and after every snowing
He is the surveyllerist and purveyor of them
He’s behind the scenes to keep the school year rolling
As soon as the school year starts, there is a period at the end of the sentence
And the adventure of summer cleaning commences
And the kenopsia of a school vacated
Eerily all cries and sighs and laughter as echoes have faded
"Styx"
Eyes that run rivers
reflect Styx crossed.
The Journey commences
spilled from inside
the nowhere land,
risen from a metaphorical drowning -
poetic,
worldless boundaries
of a tablecloth moment,
where shining cutlery is set just so,
in the correct placement -
The Last Supper,
we sit across from each other,
grace is not uttered before the meal
there is nothing left between us -
poetic.
What’s left?
A life stolen -
I let you go.
What will be, will be.
Along the road,
another life, calls me,
Home.
What will be, will be.
I let you go.
Along the road,
Life calls you -
Home.
Candide Diderot. ‘26
Romance and Spiritual Love
are not one and the same
two often flying like twin doves
this seen is only game
One carnal commences
putting up defences
other has no fences
Though both are treasure troves, unglove
Romance and Spiritual Love
______________________
2nd Placement : Standard Contest
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker
March 26
When ravens croak at mid of night
Their echoes spiral to the sky,
A solemn sound shifts on the breeze,
A sullen chill flows in the high.
My mind commences to roam free,
A darkened thought begins to chime
Distant shadows, I start to see,
Or maybe just the turning time.
I sense their voices sharp and deep,
A language I can almost guess,
Secrets that the tree leaves keep,
While the world waltzes warmly to rest.
I listen close and hold my breath,
Shaping myself to greet my plight,
Reminisce life and silent death
In the grim darkness of the night.
Perhaps not death, just quiet rest,
While the weather is cold and grey,
As ravens know what serves me best
To grace the earth anew someday.
As the Great Work is complete and Victory is Won
and the Soul reaches its Sum, On Earth As The Sun
and the Great Duality Commences, by Union Triumphed
and the Lesser makes haste, Vanquished and Crushed
from Below to Above where the Sacred Light is claimed
from the Impious to the Saint,
from the Flesh to the Soul, from the Soul to the Crown
from the Crown to the Sword, from the Sword Unbound
from the Roots of the Earth to the Unmeasurable Skies
from Degradation to Imperishable Heights,
from the Lesser to the Greatest to the Blazing of Great Fires
from Robes to Garments to Celestial Cyphers,
As Below So Above, where Veils are Unshackled, Undone
Ever Forth like Wind Psalms, On Earth As The Sun
Hugging commences tenderly, a potential of carefulness,
Carefulness constructs in quietness, basics laid there,
There develops the persistence, firm and true,
True promises arise when hearts learn to restart.
Restart with touch, yet lips still abstain,
Abstention teaches lovers that progress must continue,
Continue in the instant, not rushing ahead,
Ahead lies the fruitlet of what’s slowly bred.
Bred in the warmth of arms that reveal,
Reveal without speed, let belief be the monitor,
Monitor every phase until affection is complete,
Complete love improvements, approving the passion.
Poem by N. Mugisho
It concertinas over my skin,
around my wrist it trundles
on those stumpy limb nubbins
neither veering left or right.
Sublimely unaware of distance,
even when it lifts its round
jaw-bound head,
the yellow and black larva
searches only for a green world
to clamp onto.
I pluck it up from its lonely trek,
place it onto a Mulberry bush -
the fuzzy slinky pauses,
then commences to chomp down
on one more world,
a place that in time,
will be converted
to a yellow and black
grubbiness.
One frosty winter's eve
In the silence of the night
Under the glow of the moon
In glittery delight
There's sounds of shuffling tiny feet
In the blades of green that crinkle
And captured in a sea of black pearls
Are joyous reflections of celestial twinkle.
A special dance commences
In the Field Mouse Winter Ball.
Squeaky songs and scratchy steps...
An entertaining eve for all.
As per their tradition,
Before the occasion has ended,
They surround the patch of frozen puddles
With all whom they've befriended.
They pair up and take their turn
To grace themselves on ice.
Then they vote amongst themselves
The winning winter field mice.
An hour or two before first light
They bid fur well and goodbye.
Then scurry home to their safe place
Before hungry predators swirl the sky.
When they feel they cannot venture
Their sorrow they relieve
By reminiscing about the fun they had
On one frosty winter's eve.
Music by Sheldon King
Open windows of my soul gliding in the knowledge
of my yesterdays
Here I am breaking down the gates, of all my defenses
it is now that my life commences
Refrain: As I move towards, ... move towards
my sane....
Down valleys and lakes and rivers I journey
no way to know which way to go
Walking through alleys of my tomorrows
I leave behind all my happiness and sorrows.
Refrain: As I move towards, ... move towards
my flame...
Open windows of my soul, gliding in places
where I've never been before ...
Here I am, dismantling my failures, setting sail
Refrain: As I move towards, ... move towards
the pouring, rain !
*************************************
Insomania
Wakeful serves the friendless dark
Humming brain flaps its wings loud
Fatigued body longs to rest
I'm lain with my wearied soul
City rests, midst, symphony
Speechlessness screams in my chest
Longing to drift off to sleep
Last Train to Georgia
Wheels sing their final, slow tune
The great machine commences
Fade and rumble in the night
Lights obscure the platform now
Whistling a faraway song
Iron beast, turned: to a ghost
The last station has arrived
To Not Kill a Mockingbird
Gray flash flies from the high fence
A loud, insistent cascade
He steals from feathered neighbors
A tenacious performer
Mocked the world with its great song
Radiance sings a frank bird
Hear the joy of its wonder
Claustrophobic, saturated white walls constrict,
sucking the oxygen from every molecule of deprived blood.
Hypoxic cells circulate through an increasingly unstable body,
whilst rivulets of sweat flow from clammy palms.
Insomniac reality blurs with insidious shadows,
dancing upon the ceiling.
Naive faith keeps insanity just at bay,
but with each sunrise, hope is chipped away.
How much longer can a soul survive without respite
before it splits open—
spilling into the realms of delicious delusion?
Counting spots of dust in sunlight streams
now becomes the norm.
Two hundred yesterday—
is that two hundred and four today?
Slowly losing grip,
twisted nursery rhymes play out in a fracturing mind:
One, two, no one is going to save you.
Three, four, get ready for the relentless gore.
Five, six, they will play with your bones like sticks.
Seven, eight, for this occasion you better not be late.
Nine, ten, you are now in their sadistic den.
Praying for sleep, it never comes,
as reality dissolves
and this phantasmagorical nightmare commences.
immediate and intimate
is rapture felt when nodes gyrate
borne by currents of our senses
truth as felt, mind cannot truncate
why live out life in past tenses
when each moment breath commences
ushering with it boons of grace
reading through ego’s pretences
embrace release; release embrace
that origins we may retrace
strobes of light that heighten delight
gentling touch, slowing down life’s pace
vibrant by day, at peace by night
doing what conscience deems as right
making void-centric our soul’s view
our aura radiates God’s light
touch leaves to feel fresh morning dew
each rainbow we see, seems like new
as does caress divine sublime
as bliss ignition does renew
accent occurs in timeless time
in slow steps to heaven we climb
there’s no fear for God dwells within
His heartbeats echoing love’s chime
Calendar commences, conviviality,
kids kvetch knishes cold,
cantaloupe crappy,
kids constantly crunching cookies,
cake, candy.
Could kayaking, canoeing, camping
in Canada cure cantankerous
children's contention?
Can caddying at the country club
conquer kid's complaining?
chaos could conduce calamity,
kindred claiming complete cuckoo-ness,
summer sanity-stealing s'mores scavengers!
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