I am a little weird, I will admit,
odd as well, but bizarre? Not a bit.
It’s my appearance, you will agree:
my head is on reversed, strangely.
Consequently I see things from the back,
a privileged view most people lack.
But I don’t mind, so, please, no pity
for what others call my “deformity.”
It’s really a blessing in disguise,
for it’s made me singularly wise.
How, you wonder, can that be?
Let me explain it, and you’ll see.
You may see what’s in front of you
but rarely what lies behind – true?
Surely this an unfortunate defect,
whereas my whole life is in retrospect.
Better still, and quite literally,
my problems are now all behind me –
whereas, according to my view,
yours are sadly still ahead of you!
No countries, no nations, no borders
So no corruption, consequently
No authorities giving orders
No more questions, asked frequently
Reasonable costs of living
Free medical care, much improved
Everyone gets forgiving
No one is cancelled and booed
But the other side is horrendous
Its only the end of a dream
That I’ve managed to remember
The rest of it I haven’t seen
Cause the bulk of my sleep was dreamless
But the morning made me aware
Of this wonderful world, so meaningless
A reverse of the one we share.
Wooden Box
In my deep deep wooden box I keep: in
triumphant completion of
something’s; depending on
whethers; keyboards with
buttons who don’t make notes audible to
the human ear; descriptions and reports on
equipment and clothing for
a specific activity; a
few arrogant diplomats; cutlery who aren’t
consistent with or
aren’t in harmony or
aren’t unanimous with
cutlery sets; pompous ducks who
scribble notes concerning the annoying to
them smell of
chimney smoke not in an
unobtrusive manner; and finally
people who use the word
“consequently” ad nauseam. However the box isn’t
locked. They can come and
go as they wish.
The Simple Faith.
At school, we had bible classes
but our religious learning was based
on the New Testament
The Old Testament was kept away from
us as it was vile and long knives
God was not so much in the picture
other he was Jesus's father
that he was a son of the virgin Mary was
not what we were asked to think of
consequently, we knew nothing other
then the name of Jesus' disciples
the cruel Romans and coward Judas
I often thought of god, still do, and
found not believing in anything was
wrong as nothing in itself is a belief
My naïve faith was simple when I do
It is a good thing my conscience feels
clear it is good who lives within me
who tells me right from wrong
his view has never brought me fame
very little money I can live that but
sometimes wish the lord had made
me clever in business affairs
When I die, my soul will join other
souls as a mass, like a friendly cloud
shield you a hot August day and will
when the world is about to fall into
an abyss will help to restore the truth
“Whatsoever that be within us that feels, thinks, desires, and animates, is something celestial, divine, and, consequently, imperishable.” Quote by Aristotle
The aurora borealis glowed above us,
Beckoning us to the stars,
where meteoroids and asteroids challenge,
microgravity becomes our new reality.
stardust speckles our skin,
creating an ethereal glow.
I’m lost in your soul's windows,
diving into your solar plexus,
drowning in the Milky Way's whirlpool.
Our bodies sweat, cosmic confetti bursts,
celestial hallucinations haunt my mind,
my engine is ready to combust,
asteroid ashes and space dust swirl.
As our lifetime dissipates,
I stitch my lifelines to your skin,
in shimmering ink,
we await the encore of rebirth,
new bodies formed from cracked constellations,
descending from heaven's opalescent gate.
"A personal shout-out to our sponsors and their vapid articulations who made this message possible," ... by The Poet.
Poets and poetesses ascribe to a greater call,
in their endeavors to make their chosen path a cure-all
from those who trivialize and minimize their virtuous
field of poetry's righteous domain and their arduous
measures to maintain a certain quality in their works
of art, to the world of writers past and present, networks
that tethers a fragile grasp on absolutes discipline,
and severance from the mundane, effortless, and simpleton,
out from the left field, melodramatic, sugarcoating,
southpaws are unreasonable and consequently, nothing
our opponents that come out from the left field properly
have no concept of true value to offer poetry.
Sarcasm’s the lowest form of wit
But what should be the highest form
Still cannot be defined, isn’t it
A harder matter to conform?
Consequently, its lack of wit
About sarcasm: there’s no contest
No worth contender to defeat
And so the lowest is the best.
Who doesn't know how
forgive men's faults,
will Not know well
What is a human being...
wouldn't understand anything
of humanity...
would still be a long way away
of moral progress
and spiritual... consequently
very far from God, still...forgive men's faults,
will Not know well
What is a human being...
wouldn't understand anything
of humanity...
It would still be a long way away
of moral progress
and spiritual... consequently
very far from God, still...
The night was unbearably barren and cold
- annihilated details of the celestial bodies
Stars flung away by just a roar
Purple moon split as cardboard ... crumbled as a moth
The comet's tails were set on fire
catastrophic flames raged through the night
Naked marble statues with empty eyes that don't flinch
left behind the smell of aged conditioner and sweat
Their existence consequently cannot be recognized
Is the key of the present bound to the past ?
Their embrace instantly endeared me
broken hearts marbles lost the match
A dream I will never be able to document
I slept under the haunted night lamp
no princesses attended the ball
- don't kill my hero
Office hours have certainly changed
No longer is it a 9 to 5 work day
With the new “work from home” format
The office atmosphere is a thing of the past
The comaraderie that's existed for decades
Is gone and replaced with a “hermit society”
Work production has probably suffered
The chance to do a little gardening
Getting back to the urgent work projects later
Putting them on the “back burner”
Consequently some will work into the night
To meet the next day deadlines on time!
There's a good and bad side to this change
It takes dedication to mangage
With the new “work from home” format
Some will succeed... some will have a problem
I wish much success to all in the future
The Dancer
From afar I watch intently
as she moves about so gently
knowing not, and consequently,
unaware what’s in my heart.
Such a beauty this sweet creature
as I watch her from the bleachers
gazing at her shapely features;
has somebody claimed her heart?
Knowing not, the weight is crushing;
through my veins my blood is rushing;
deep desires, my thoughts are blushing;
could she love me with her heart?
Guess I’ll never know the answer,
truth about this darling dancer,
questions spreading like a cancer
feeding on my hungry heart.
March 19, 2023
That blissful wedding night,
Beginning of an auspicious occasion.
Like a day starts with sunlight,
Becomes awesome with a true companion.
Creates a spark of full moon light,
Showers of benedictions to the common dominion.
Hopes and desires hold tight,
When the two are positive in opinion.
The beauty and fragrance till their might,
Two souls receive the gift of creation.
A divine and remarkable treat,
Has to happen in succession.
The most awaited and a matter of delight,
Consequently meets a righteous conclusion.
Oh, technology,
You, robber of:
Our hearts
Our minds
Our very souls
Slaves have we become
To you
Having given up our dreams
Our ambitions
Our feelings
So
Here and there, aimlessly,
Ar
We are driven,
Sightless
Heartless
Mindless
Soulless
Against our will
Against our beliefs
Against our humanity,
Consequently,
Instead, of you, oh technology,
A servant of ours to be,
Subservient, to you, oh technology, we have
Become!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
08 December 2022
Picky bumble bee lives in a new pumpkin house
She had to clean it thoroughly after the mouse
He had left partial bits of food all over the place
Consequently, she had to clean and sanitize the space
It’s all mine now, she declared to whoever would listen.
The floors had a sparkle, and the windows had a glisten.
Pumpkin smelled like Pinesol, Windex and bleach.
It’s a great place! Said the worm “Much better than my peach!”
He swam his pure mode onto the freeway,
At the crash of midnight, under a dull ray,
It's as if it's a rolling trip of a sound move,
He chased a vast owl overhead and flew away.
The monster sinks into the usual groove,
Also, to ask him for the land sternly proves,
Consequently, the vehicle started to shake,
His anguish freed the load from reprove.
A bird in the sky, tickling for air's sake,
His eyes boldly rushed toward the lake,
It takes a solid step on a sharp path,
A twig from a maple tree no leaf shake.
Explore the world from a tree's bypath,
Connect the fiery red and orange lath,
It sinks evenly into the dreadful abyss,
Bird quill pens are plagued by raw wrath.
The bird looks at the sprinting diss,
Instead of roving, the beast is remiss,
The auld damp air drove the birds away,
Birds look for limbs that rest on bliss.
2ND Place Contest Winner
Written: June 30, 2022
Flight Three Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
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