An unfortunate truth
among consummate lies
Each word like a sword
embedded inside
Its timing ill chosen
with proof to dismay
That comes unexpected
— to reclaim the day
(Dreamsleep: August, 2026)
I stand along the grey walls
of a sacred sanctuary
where her portrait hangs
immersing
eluding
shifting
in consummate chiaroscuro
like velvet, darkness drapes
across her almond cheeks
and I wonder
what the painter had in mind
when his last brush strokes
wet-on-wet
were glazing sfumato
blending
feathering
scumbling
the mysterious curves
of her lips
crestfallen or elated?
I wonder
in midtown, twin clock towers chime.
their peal resembling tumbling coins.
procrastination, now a crime,
consummate idleness purloins.
youth may clutch her bottled seconds
to transact on a rainy day.
she addresses urgent errands.
handsome faces gallop away.
i've seen my own spring and wither
between these effortless minutes.
cherished vanity's coy sliver,
wasteful without observed limits.
i'm liquor-free and off-caffeine,
walking in sunlight on cool grass.
crunch my vegetables, staying lean,
extra sands upon the hourglass.
lost my rosaries. almanacs!
are charming nooses, rave and posh
pocket planners build sky-high stacks.
moments have no spares, cut the bosh.
shouldn't spend my flowers wantonly,
chastising walls, scaling degrees.
there's never enough time, truly
to claim wealth from its poverty.
Peerless paintings mystically mingle;
Hues of heaven and earth amalgamate.
Bells of my shrines rhythmically jingle;
Logic and love lawlessly agitate.
I see Morpheus moving around my mind;
With wings of poppies, Minerva hovers.
Celestial scenes are craftily designed;
Saraswati showers seamless powers.
Monsoons recover all drought-driven cracks;
Ripples in the lake of my mind stir on.
Nightmares consummate with sweet-dream climax;
Blissfully, myriad rainbows are drawn.
Shouldn’t soul-deep joys from deep fountains rise,
As cosmic plumes lift minds to search the skies?
Right in the middle of a massive
Walmart parking lot
An enterprising young lady
preyed on cars in a most unusual way
Weaving in and out of crowded lanes with consummate skill
she soaped up every windshield for free - no charge - no bill
Her calling card sticking out from the wipers at a hyper-extended angle
she fully expected to cash in on her ludicrous finagle…
But alas and alack, her business was about to go ka-plooey
For just as she sponged extra soap on her two-hundredth car
The sheriff of the town approached her, trying not to grin
“If you wipe down all them windshields, darling
~ ~ I may not put you behind bars”
Flying above
the syntax
grammarians
far below
Lost in paradigms
yet to form
Hermes to
forego
You consummate
your writing
as you reach that
final rung
The lines you wrote
by faith alone
sing out now
zero-sum
Your editor
rejected
your publisher
is spurned
The words demand
a new command
of what you’re still
— to learn
(Dreamsleep: January, 2026)
“I AM”
I am the leader of a one man processional
I am a consummate professional with no job and slim prospects
I am young at heart with an old soul
I am wrestling for control with me, myself, and I
I am a good guy, but not good enough
I am finding it tough to believe, believe me
I am 27, chow, yard
I am going to try, but I never said how hard.
I am a man of course, and a felon to boot
I am a mighty redwood without roots.
I am sitting alone in my cell with a pen
I am fitting to roam straight to Hell, say Amen.
I am anxious and restless and oh so much more
I am waiting to see what’s behind the next door.
I am an enigma, a something quite strange
I am what I am, but I’m willing to change.
Peerless paintings mystically mingle.
Bells of my shrines rhythmically jingle.
Hues of heaven and earth amalgamate.
Logic and love lawlessly agitate.
I see Morpheus moving around my mind.
Celestial scenes are craftily designed.
With wings of poppies Minerva hovers.
Saraswati showers seamless powers.
Monsoons recover all drought-driven cracks.
Nightmares consummate with sweet-dream climax.
Ripples, in the lake of my mind, stir on.
Blissfully, myriad rainbows are drawn.
Peerless paintings mystically mingle.
Hues of heaven and earth amalgamate.
Bells of my inner shrine jingle.
Logic and love lawlessly agitate.
I see Morpheus moving around my mind.
With wings of poppies Minerva hovers.
Celestial scenes are craftily designed.
Saraswati showers seamless powers.
Monsoons recover all drought-driven cracks.
Flora and fauna fill the nude deserts.
Nightmares consummate with sweet-dream climax
Prey, with their predators, fervently flirts.
Ripples, in the lake of my mind, stir on.
Blissfully, myriad rainbows are drawn.
It's no surprise
that I'm back here
looking out over the river,
painting thoughts, dripping
memories, smearing streaks
of the here and now
across the canvas of a dull,
overcast day.
There was a time
when I had ambitions to be
an artist, high school dreams
of a life in smoke filled studios,
tee shirts and paint splattered
Levi jeans. ( A la Jackson Pollock )
Fate though had me
nine to five dressed in a suit,
white cotton shirt and a tie.
Over a long career I digested
libraries of corporate jargon,
studied the intricacies of office drill,
the dark secrets of management
all with consummate skill.
To survive, I mastered the art
of disguise and deflection
as an undercover poet
learns to do.
“Come one, come all!”
The hawker summons
Try your luck
On the unmoored Ferris wheel
Hurl a dart
At the Kewpie dolls
Win one for the lady
To consummate the deal
(Chorus)
Intruders in the festival
Outsiders at the gates
Nothing like a carnival
To bring up dormant hates
Where the pavement meets the grass
Behind the stand of funnel cakes,
Someone's getting hornery
Their pants down at their feet
This balloon-tank life
Is more than I can take
This Friday night special
Affords me no relief
(chorus)
Prizes, prizes, and more prizes
Mustachioed lady dons disguises
The smell of ether and saw dust
A dead roller coaster under rust
They say life is a funhouse
That explains why everyone is so ugly
A grotesque face in a curvy mirror –
A cotton-candy bed for an endless nightmare –
It’s carnival time, again.
Love is a burning thing
And it makes a fiery ring
Bound by wild desire
I fell into a ring of fire -- Ring of Fire sung by Johnny Cash
Love's Desire
Your love is my desire,
I can’t help myself.
We have so much fun together
sharing our deepest feelings.
I long for time alone with you,
just you and I-no one else.
Our walks and talks linger
with me all day long.
But we have others
in our lives.
To whom we have
made lasting commitments.
To them we must be true
despite our burning love.
If we consummate our love
we will be consumed in the fire.
In the resonant noise of continual commotion,
as the voice of hysteria feels quietened
by the tender touch of consummate calmness,
the serene sheath of sentiments sinks slow
with uniquely unexpressed notion
in the unreachable forsaken depth of the mute mind.
When the cacophony outside finally subsides,
the unsaid becomes the sound of silence,
that vibrates where it finds the desired niche,
strikes softly the unknown chord of harmony.
The expression enunciates what isn’t conveyed yet
from the placid depth of quietude.
In the chaotic space of crumbled relationships
the squally sentiments spiral outraged
in the whirlwind of invasive indignation,
where they once grew in the eye of resentment storm.
Many hues of sensitivity act in the kaleidoscopic show
in the frozen depth of the heart unfeelingly hollow.
When the tempest stops after the apocalypse,
the designed perceptual shroud of stalled silence
spreads in the psychic pathway paved by cogent essence,
where the fragrant wind of seraphic spring blows
with floral emotions that walk the dormant desires
in the desolate streets of solitude.
Pushing hard
against the words
the order
disarrayed
The ultimate guest
the consummate stranger
so close
— so far away
(The New Room: December, 2024)
MY FEAR
My first fear
That was my only fear
Was how to face my fear
And make myself dare it
I won't succumb
Even though I'm sored
Afraid of that is Unknown
Of what becomes of my fear
To a step each day I'm faced
Dilemma to consummate my desire
At the beckons of rivers of pleasure
Wake! Oh Awake my Soul to a rise
The feeler may be petrified
At the sight of the blinded veil
Yet! Fear of unknown wont rise
Wheel of fate to consume my gaze
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