Confess Poems

Confess, Corn Flakes!

You know her
You feel she mingles in your reason in rhythm
Not with your possible pain of angina in arrhythmia 
She is a calm serenity prayer
that knows your tear and that needs to run down on your smile lines
she is a kitchen cookie baking sheet
tracing paper cyan heed
never a plotter, never a san Juan never a

They will confess

They will confess, with voices so clear,
The secrets they've kept, the lies they've held dear.
Their hearts will reveal, the truth they've concealed,
And their souls will awaken, from the darkness they've sealed.

They will confess, with tears of regret,
The pain they've inflicted, the love they've forget.
Their minds will recall, the choices they've made,
And their conscience will whisper,

A Little More Amour

A little more amour,
A little less confess:
For those whose hearts they pour
Have little to redress.

How do you confess yourself?

How do you confess yourself?
Over chicken and rice
In the light of a moment
In laughter and life?

Or is it with warning?
"Please don't be mad."
Trembling lips
Narrowed eyes and red hands

Or is it with silence?
Scribbled words on a bed
Leave for the weekend
Buzzing phone wasting dead

Or is it with defiance?
A mock-up of "brave"
I will not let myself
Destroy me today

Or

Malfaeus

What's my name, who am I, what's my name/
My true name sounds something like Malfaeus/
Ring a bell, are you scared, you know me now/
I am the most feared in the world/
I am more feared than the Devil/
Even the Devil trembles with fear/
A fear like no fear/
Malfaeus, my name sounds something like that/
What am I, why

LOVE IS NOT CYNICAL

Love’s not cynical; it’s real—
Not some gamble, some spin-wheel deal.
More like a flame, steady, even at night,
Not just some spark to blur your sight.
It’s a hand that holds tight when it’s fight or flight.

Some people, though… have felt a love that’s twisted and cold,
Caught in a web of lies that just won’t grow old.
Smooth talk,

We confess

What was surreal is now the new normal,
as we bilocate between form and vast space
and although we follow no practice formal,
simply ambling through life at an easy pace,
we have now encountered the paranormal,
garnering wisdom of sages, by God’s grace.
Operating from heart instead of the mind,
we no longer flounder about like the blind.

I Confess

    Other poets inspire me 
      to build on what they write
    Some might call it stealing
      But I only shed more light… 

    Adding to their poem’s grandeur
      is my

26-7-2024 Twin Cities

1.)
Slept most of my life 
Forget the stress 
The best kind of strife is the kind kept repressed 
Every guy just gotta accept we’re inclined to becoming depressed 
You’ll never cry 
Except if you gotta a good reason why 
Keep your eye dressed 
If you’re clever 
You’ll keep your tears dry 
I’ve wept without the

We confess

From each node of form emanates divine bliss,
being of course benediction of God’s grace,
love’s heavenly caress, Divine Mother’s kiss,
rapture sublime, holding us in close embrace.
Our formless soul plunges into the abyss,
wherein of wayward ego remains no trace,
leaving pristine presence alone as the flame,
now affirmed as claim to fame, in life’s end game.

Okaaayee I'll confess the plagiarism

        I know that i've mentioned 
                in past writes
        regard mine frenetic digits
            

Confess if I dare

Dare me to diagnose my condition?
 
I'm diagnosed with depression
Or rather does depression have me
Even the sad rain cries for me
Or do I cry because of rain

I’m bipolar type one
Or so I’ve been diagnosed
My depression tells me I’m two
Or is my mind a torrent of rain

I’m an addict to dopamine
Or does scarcity seek fullness
I’ll nosh on

I Confess That I Lived

For the poems I wrote,
For the daydreams in which I got lost,
For the all time I enjoyed,
   For the women I shared.

  For what I've lost and gained,
For everyone I don't even meet !
For ALL the past lived
   For What I cried and smiled.

  I reaffirm and confess
 

Waiting To Confess

Chin thrust forward, held in right hand
    pleasant sweep of hair graces unexceptional forehead

  Thoughts percolate, bubble lightly, retreat
    mouth scrunched up into grudging position

I Confess But Not With My Voice

To you, who held my sight captive
And pumps me up to be active

I only want the best for you, truly 
For your heart to beat for someone, fully

Or to love yourself more than any
Because honestly Im one of the many

Who fell into your sweet round eyes
And in that pit of mysteries

I've always wanted to see

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