Concoct Poems | Examples

Risk a verse

How many times have I sat down to write
When I worry over whether I might
Not touch base with my fickle muse
Without whose inspiration I will lose
Whatever poetic conceits come to mind
At which point I would  feel totally resigned
To leaving my pages unscribbled and blank
As I felt my energy ebb and my spirit sank

Then did faint stirrings tickle my brain
As I hoped I could begin again
To venture to concoct my story
Every new poem being a step towards glory
Though doubts  about my efforts remain
How long can budding poets ever be sane?
The torture of trying to find the right word
Forever renders such a struggle totally absurd

Live and Die

We walk with the information of 
quasars and the discernment of protoplasm. 
Each day we live and die, each day our tears run dry.
Information is the rubble, the clutter of our civil war.

Reality becomes disposable when fact and 
fevered fiction are made coequals,
when the rampancy of lies massacres the truth.
Each day we live and die, each day our tears run dry.
Propaganda walls our gated communities, our guarded cells.
 
So many concoct frightful conspiracies from techno-witchcraft. 
So many dehumanize and scapegoat from delusive threats.
Each day we live and die, each day our tears run dry.
So many are captive here to the craven complex of revenge.
So many swallow here, the mollifying Fentanyl 
of a cruel and brutal state.

Clinging to the demagogue, no one is free. 
Somewhere in the brownout, is there a beacon?
Somewhere in the nightmare, do we awaken?
Each day we live and die, 
           each day our tears run dry.

Fishermen of the Isles

no cowboys in stock on this side,
but acrid fishermen provide 
marine lifelines, hamlets sustain.
Spineless seas they ride, shark's terrain.

pre-dawn cowboys of Waves arise 
early wranglers trawl for the prize 
through murky waters or in plain. 
Spineless seas they ride, shark's terrain.

catches of chub, snapper, and sword 
concoct dinners we may afford.
praise the fishers, saddled with strain.
Spineless seas they ride, shark's terrain. 

rank as sins, veiled in ocean scum
nets shoulder-slung, descendants come
off the tides, firm ground to regain
Spineless seas they ride, shark's terrain.

Greed governs some love

Humans, long a self-seeking breed,
Oft concoct love foreseeing need.
With tender grass lush green 
Does a butcher fatten
His sheep in his own selfish greed.
___________________
Translation |37.01.2025|
 Poet’s note: Sanskrit has thousands of verses of wisdom called Subhashhitam. This verse says that man by nature is a self-seeking breed. Keeping in mind a selfish motive, a butcher concocts false love and fattens his sheep with tender grass. But it is only to fetch better price in the market, not for any altruistic love. The transliteration of the Sanskrit verse follows (sandhi duly separated):

Kaarya-apekshee  janah praayah, 
preetim aavishkaroti alam |
Lobha-arthee shaundikah shashpaih, 
mesham pushnaati peshalaih ||204||

Supersoldier

If I'm not important to you - why should you be to me?
'Cause you're obviously blind if you can't see

If you were in my shoes - what would this look like to you?
I promise you'd feel like a used, hidden, mistress like I do

I promise you'd feel exactly how I do right now
And if you can't tell me - concoct an explanation somehow

This isn't working with an overanalytic person just like me
So if you're going to be with me, some explanation maybe

If you're looking for a fortune-teller to read your thoughts
You're with the wrong woman 'cause that's something I'm not

If I'm not enough because I'm not a Supersoldier like you
Then please go live in your own reality of warped truth

'Cause I can't and won't be something that I am not
I'm wifey-material - not some dumb høe or slvtty THOT

I won't mold myself like play-doh to whom you want me to be
I'm a very aggressive advocate for transparency and equality

I can't be something in your hands that you can just mold
(Unless you know how to transmute base metals into gold)

'Cause I hold the women's feather-weight champion belt
God broke the mold when he created me - you work for him - go ask him yourself

Sonnet 16 Water and Earth

Water can be calming until it floods the earth with its purpose
It becomes quite unpleasant when the water overextends its intent
Is it the moon that is making the water have more intent with its purpose
Let it be known that the water cares for the earth to an extent

The water cares for its blood and claims to care for the earth, and wants to nourish its seed
Well, the seed does not want the water with salt
Do not concoct a form of a pleasant and tasty Meade
It would prefer to have the sweet nectar of a malt

The earth is the foundation of life, and the water should cool it down from the internal and external fires
The earth does not want to be overrun with water and all of its creatures of life
A partnership until they enter the pyres
The earth wants to have the blessing of a wife

Each day, the earthquakes and the water go out
Or does the water come out like a spout

We dream ourselves free and in our pride, we concoct lofty words of praise

We dream ourselves free and in our pride, we concoct lofty words of praise,
"We are democrats, lovers of liberty, free from prejudice and hate,"
In our furnace, we build the great human experiment, a dream always worthy to follow;
We speak melodiously, with noble sentiment, growing gardens of ideals meant to be seen.
But in reality, we are a vulgar mob, shoving and sharing quarrels,
Where passions are easily stirred by demagogues, media, belief profiteers, agitators.
Blasphemies uttered, this is called "the society of free people"; it's a heavy word,
What can we offer the world but overly full plunder we've stolen from humanity's land?
Under the hallucination that this mad theft can be called progress and bright culture,
We substitute our being in a blind race, too often tempted by subliminal deceit.
Everything is built on the foundation of illusion, a selfish altar on which we sacrifice common sense,
And we lose our hopes and dreams in the abyss of momentary prosperity, the delusion of a lawful happiness.

Sex Is Satisfying

Sex is satisfying surreptitiously,
getting the bang for your buck,
no, from your buck. His heart
pounding, over and over again.
His antlers held high with a sigh.
Sleep overtakes the gorged,
with victory of a benign smile.
Deep is the pleasure, no need
to concoct the siren of his dreams.
Delirious, at once put out
of his misery with no need
to set sails into the dark night.
His nostrils filled with her sensual perfume.
Her hair strewn upon an adjoining pillow.
Her hand laid upon his rapturous heartbeat.
Her buck is spent. He emptied out his pockets.
There is nothing left, not a glance, nor a tingle
for a dish, doll, nor centerfold. Only his wife.

Shook

Shook

You whispered to the brokenness of my sleep
Sweet as though a pillager in a gaseous light
And as I was a castaway by every concoct
The horizon faced me forward once again
There were wars and abstractions
Ugliness and harrowed bearing
As you cooled me in the darkness and let me sleep
Where any tread to turn, you'd not understand
You were my crutches as seeming stolen to love
In luck and blessings and gracious as you were held
So deep the best weight
I took a star and always keep it
Forever you remain, perfection

In the End

In your life experience,
                      how well, did you think you did?
                  Just to find out that
                 thing you were pursuing 
              alone with others
           ended up being a fairy tale,
         which was profligated in the end. 
       Concoct ever-lasting souvenirs 
     that will exist throughout
   the ages of the ouroboros.

The Night Is Dark and Full of Terror

In the depths of the night, when all is still and bare,
When the wind howls harshly and the trees begin to scare,
It is then that the creatures of the night arise,
Unleashing their powers in a world beyond the skies.

Shadows dance in the moonlight, ghosts whisper from the trees,
The night is pregnant with magic, with secrets and mysteries.
And as the stars twinkle above, the creatures convene,
In a feast of the supernatural, dark and unforeseen.

The air is thick with arcane rituals and spells,
As the witches concoct their brews in their smoky hells.
Werewolves howl to the moon, vampires quaff their wine,
And demons laugh and prance, in orgies so divine.

But beware, my friend, for nothing is as it seems,
As the supernatural surges, and the veil between worlds gleams.
For when the morning light slices through the night,
The creatures will disappear, vanishing from your sight.

So, lock your doors and windows, and pray until the dawn,
For when the supernatural comes, it never lasts for long.
And as the world returns to normal, and all seems well and right,
Remember, my friend, that you were part of the otherworldly sight.

Ai's Conditioning

AI

AI stories

Are unending

Algorithms untiring

Reaching into their

Immense conditioning

To concoct what

Attracts and repulses..

Hmmmm..

Sounds familiar...

Media Messaging

                                 No money in balance,
                                     please the extreme.
                                 Promote what is current,
                                     manufacture for fiends.

                                 Concoct what will profit,
                                     no matter what’s true.
                                 Convention in nonsense,
                                     the popular clue.

                                 No money in balance,
                                     no money in peace.
                                 No money in virtue,
                                     it won’t pay the lease.

Giving Credit Where Due

I am so grateful that you read me and opine
On unique thoughts and ideas I claim mine
But I must be honest and humbly confess
I often lift your ideas to concoct this mess. 

Written November 12, 2022

Becoming Friendly With a Witch

She might be a witch, but she is foremost a warrior they said.
If you double cross her in the least, she will make you dead.
Her spells are unbelievable, her magic is super strong.
Do not irritate her; her memory is keen, unique and long.

I wanted to find out for myself, so I made her into a friend.
She showed me how to concoct spells; my own special blend.
And if anyone irritated me, she gave them a zap and a fling.
Being her bestie was terrific, it made my heart kind of sing.

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