Darkness whisks the egg white strands
into the yellow yolk glob.
Time claws its way
wallowing through a quagmire
of booze, ooze and bog-breath delays.
"I'm Late, I'm Late!"
"Who Spake?"
"Who's seen better Ways?"
Feet spread strangely,
disengage and untangle.
Interlocking with toe taps
pin-pointed to barre-
laughing at those old elbows and knees.
The gasp of old shadows
lurking in clouds
dispels the carnival
confetti spaghetti charade,
to yell:
"Joie de Vivre!
"What the hell!"
"Is all this stuff about?"
Silence lies petrified
by a pillar of Babel-borne salt
outside of the window.
It can't get out of bed.
“I’m fine! OK!"
"I'm laying in"
"Playing dead!"
Each contradiction
spoke with impeccable diction.
Intonation interlaced;
with poise and puréed perfection,
personified.
It brought applause, clapped with one hand
behind the other,
a contra-counterpart.
A toot toot touche,
bowing to cheers
from both ways.
The in-between
It is hard to live in the in-between
when the in-between cradles the past
which I believed to have been put aside
like a garbage bag in a deserted field
hidden between the cliffs and the sea,
between what you believed to have loved
and what you love today, between here and there,
between ‘how are you?’ and ‘is all well?’,
rocking like a ripe cumin plant
between one bay and another,
moving like the sea between one island and another.
It is tough to live in the in-between
when the in-between is hidden
between what is and fiction,
between the wretched thoughts and the vicious feelings.
Maybe today I will be able to relax
in the water flowing
from one step
to another.
A friend said, rather smugly,
you can't be "pretty ugly";
and where is the good,
and what is the likelihood
of one being "clearly misunderstood"?
An expression he's also dismissing
(or as kids say, "dissing"),
is so silly: "found missing".
And you can bet money
no one is "seriously funny".
Few people are ever cowed,
or have to get loud,
speaking to a "small crowd",
and (sorry if it's crass):
what exactly is "liquid gas"?
Man is not a solitary note; he is a symphony of deep contradictions,
A song of sins and sorrows, composed of desires and broken dreams,
I've seen hands that caressed loved faces, clenching into foreign fists,
Lips that spoke sweet words, twisting into cruel smiles, venom flowing.
We kiss with mouths that have cursed, embrace with arms that have borne violence,
We call ourselves good only in the moments we choose to keep in memory,
Do our sins disappear when not looked at, or do they sleep beneath the skin,
Waiting to be awakened by the light of an ill-fitting moon, shadows seeking their place?
Man sings a song of the world and shadow, a harmony of desires and regrets,
A dreamer caught between stars and mud, creator of dreams and destroyer of hopes,
Between darkness and light, he sings his symphony with notes of love and echoes of pain,
And when night falls, he hides in shadow the contradictions that make him more than a note.
Project 2025, a tale that some have spun
Of less government, and more to come
Disguising rules and mandates with an ease
Using more government the right does please
Reducing funds, saying to trim the U.S. core
Now watch as their power grows much more
From health to speech, their views will tread
With heavy hands, it’s their right they said
Contradicting the laws then to claim liberty
With their intentions saying it’s the right to be
Drafting freedoms, written down it’s clear
But it’s to continue their distributing fear
Controlling us with their very own vision
Promoting more, in this country of division
To oversee us, reigning us in, and then to bind
Are all contradictions they’ve carefully designed
I'm a little too much, or at times not quite enough,
I'm too sensitive, too distracted or at times just too tough.
I'm too in my head, or say hurtful words without thought,
I'm super focused on the ball, and then suddenly, energy's at nought.
I either notice it all, or see very little
I can be softly spoken or when annoyed can sound brittle
Without words my face tells you all you need to know, but I promise you this, I really don't mean it to show.
I'm either full of self confidence or fueled by self doubt, I know it's hard to understand when I still haven't figured it out.
My life is such a sweet contradiction you see,
So hard to live this modern life, when I'm not sure who to be.
I do have some great traits though I swear,
I am creative, loving and have crazy ideas out of nowhere,
I love with all my being and care so deeply,
That my head and my heart are at war so uniquely.
My head says act how society wants you to be,
My heart screams back, that's just simply not me!
So please try not to judge, when I'm just trying to find me.
I'm simply on a journey, to navigate life with that thing called ADHD
I am tired with the burden
But don't feel the power to leaving it
It ruins my soul
Yet I maintain the poison within me
I am a hypocrite or a scoundrel?
Or a prisoner of my own vices
Perhaps both, or something indefinable.
I grapple with this internal strife,
A weary soul caught in the fire of self loath,
Amidst the ruins of self, I persist,
A complex being, defined by contradictions.
I am jealous
Jealous of everyone's success
But also Ecstatic for their achievements!
First instinct is to second guess
Quick trigger to point the finger
Rigidly pushing against reality
Swiftly pulls us from actuality
Let's not live in subtraction
But add up grace in its place
Replace reject with accept
To embrace all that we face
Our reactions are a choice
Try choosing a positive voice
Tick-tock
Time’s wasting away.
Is it truly?
Have we made time a commodity?
She owes nothing and is not swayed by any of us.
Can time even be wasted?
It is infinite yet brief.
I’ve existed forever and I’m still an embryo.
I pay my own mortgage but still feel my mother’s kiss on my brow as I drift off.
I am alive.
I am immortal.
I am dead.
I always have been.
Swirls of shadowed light rest in minds filled with wakeful anxiety, while the burning ice warms their souls with its chills
Falling in tandem with the rising waves cresting against sandless beaches, reaching for pieces broken by gentle hands banded in the company of destruction
Seduction of the celibate through linear sways of hip and lip, trying as one might to grip and rip the shattered remnants whole
Candescent pitch shining a brilliant purple/black against the flashing abyss, with lost tack that stacked bricks on back become feathers for wings that caress the winds to take it flight
The things we see can be seen one of two ways
Either full of color or just straight black and white
The coexistence of natural dark and our light
But we choose to see what we think is right
Whether it’s believing that love is true
Or saying it’s something that has no meaning
A concept formed completely on a ruse
Yet it’s strength comes from its own fragility
The words “I love you” might be built so cynically
Cuz these emotions we have were formed separate from our identity
Am I happy cuz of things that are genuine
Or is this all fake so i can continue livin
Ignorin my feelins that my mind’s distillin
It’s like this whole world’s full of conflictions
Conditions and missions to keep us from wishin
But I choose to do the exact opposite
Like a drug I get so high I can’t get off of it
What’s right, what’s wrong, is it fake or nonfiction
Everything we done built up is all a contradiction
CONTRADICTIONS
given the
presence
of connotations
perhaps
simpler
to list
the
delicate
diminutive
&
embrace
the barbed
serrated
&
prevalent
traditions
have access
to the
extraordinary
encased
with
narrative
siloing
in
directions
&
hogging
the
outlines
with
minutiae
measured
of
pleasured
pools of
reflected light
of
the
defiant
rewarding
revelations
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
Honestly. What's the best policy? Honesty?
Don't loose lips sink ships? You follow me?
"Keep your circle small."
"Keep your enemies close."
How much is enough, then, to have them by the ropes?
"Knowledge is power."
"Ignorance is bliss."
How does one choose between THAT or THIS?
Idioms, cliches, metaphors and more. Life's one big contradiction we're all dying to explore.
I
A poem is struggling within
Finished and unfinished, a thin
Line of demarcation. I mark your words
They germinate, but like swords
Diction bears contradictions in wombs
Some do good, some usher us to tombs
II
So, it's not love or hate, not that mix
I'm struggling to let it out, find a fix
For what ails my soul. My heart happy
My will, patience strong, streets unhappy
The environment - a topic for another day -
Is it my conscience, aesthetic sense & sway
That irk me, as evening & sunset beckon
Yet your words like 'silence' & waves & skies beckon
If I write of True Peace, true coexistence, His creation
Will I abort the poem, or meaning, deLiGHTful Imagination
Sub Categories
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