An endless spiral of infinite emotions;
First thought of as hell,
But we have differing interpretations.
Because the spirals in your eyes
Are kin to mine,
And the spirals in your cheeks
Are like the rings in a tree;
So beautiful to me.
I find it onerous on the mind
To consolidate my thoughts
And compare you to material things
Because, my dear,
You are beyond the material brain.
You are an entity I'd define as
Pure beauty.
Artistry, and almost a beautiful contrivance,
But far too genuine to be artificial.
You are the artist, the brush, and the canvas,
As if to say,
The maiden, the mother, and the crone.
A being of love, life, and death.
You are the start and the end.
The world and its galaxy.
And to think,
This is just what I see
By looking into the clairvoyant's orbs;
What we might call,
Eyes.
And here comes a poetry machine
No, no, no – It’s not AI, so boring, so humdrum
You’re familiar with ‘player pianos,’ I know
Well, this contrivance is a ‘poetry player,’ so much fun
Turn it on, and it cranks out poems that are songs
So much fun – There’s no right or wrong
Sing along to your heart’s content, so much fun
unlike AI, so boring, so humdrum
With a fist full of daggers it descends upon its prey
Dropping like a meteor without the light of day
But no rocky harbinger, this bearer of last light
It's gift eternal night borne on the softest wing of flight
Envy, and wonder, consume the pondering breast
Was it oversight or blunder that left us so unblest
Since the point where first we leapt, we long have sought the wing
Yet clumsy sad contrivance is all that we can bring
'sif chitin brought to shiny curve, could match the kite its wing
Still our eyes reach skyward, as if prince had been king
Our reach forever past our grasp… we're left to pine and sing
Oh we can bring the night to those we deem worthy of rest
But soaring on the breath of life is not how we've been blest
But rest assured in this one thing we share with those of wing
Squawk, or screetch, or melody, we too, can laugh and sing
Breathe deep as though it be your last, and fill your soul with song
Then let fly with the breath of life… sing loudly, if not long
There is a sadness soothing to the soul,
And with its smoothing, Herakles made whole.
And deep within him, pealed a bell,
And those who hear, must harken well:
For from the void, its rhythms swell,
And all contrivance shall it quell!
A flaming contrivance of heat,
The dumpster was quick on its feet.
It danced on its toes,
Though why, no one knows,
A partner it never did meet.
I've heard that song before,
I've seen that dance too.
You think that we don't know,
what it is that you do.
You run your mouth about me,
as if you're in a race.
The stories you've fabricated,
karma will put you in your place.
For those who have believed you,
or were tricked by your contrivance.
Some day they will undo,
all that you've cut through.
Birth
Love
Safety
Support
Appreciation
Education
Persuasion
Attendance
Assignments
Assessments
Judgment
Discouragement
Confusion
Resentment
Absence
Deception
Failure
Dropout
Narcotics
Nowhere
Everywhere
Solace
Addiction
Fleeting
Disappointment
Disapproval
Runaway
Homeless
Estranged
Self-Reliance
Employment
Coercion
Tragedy
Loss
Escape
Calling
Determination
Travel
Seek
Explore
Epiphany
Aspiration
Freedom
Opportunity
Meaning
Purpose
Contrivance
Provoke
Encourage
Volition
His earnest quest for survival
Has meant off-and-on revival,
Bus boarding to far-off crusades,
For weeks avoiding nice brocades…
Not anymore one who’d bubble,
Sometimes chin with a week’s stubble:
Arch enemies in connivance,
The injurious for contrivance;
Had in dreams poisoned his noodle
And Christ said “Straight into puddle!”
Enemies flexing raw muscle,
God making it Divine Tussle…
His fervent quest for survival
Has meant much speedier arrival
For their camp’s redemptive prayer
That should fortify John Sayer.
A serpent lies writhing on our divan,
we see now how denial might begin.
Hissing at all who would foil his vile plan,
our fatal flaw is not delving right in.
Climate Change is much more a twisty tact:
coiled thoughts like stone turrets in ivy.
If nations can't accept a real fact -
it's hard to turn this round, from what I see.
Setting science so very far aside,
deft doubters like letting sleeping snakes lie.
Skeptics scurry for a safe space to hide,
afraid to give the truth one honest try.
This then, becomes a crippling contrivance:
ever still stronger, steadfast defiance.
4/24/22 103 Words
From the grave he's torn,
the cow was milked and adored,
from her womb he's born,
her sister is barren and forlorned.
Deep is his mother's sorrow,
long ago before his tomorrows,
forgotten from,
the one called son.
Twisted his roots they grew,
well watered and spewed,
dig, dig, dig,
those dirty shrews.
She ponders in silence,
there is no alliance,
their skillful contrivance,
assisted by her connivance .
I hear what they all say,
you see what they all do,
then one day,
there's no more memories of you.
Song For My Father
I do mean, my Almighty Father
The one really responsible
for my birth.
Tis the reason, I am not
just dirt.
My body, my mind He did
wonderfully fashion!
Adding a flair for poetic
passion.
Feet to walk, pirouette and
to Samba.
Loving to dance, to any just
about any number.
The gift to speak, to write and
then, to teach!
To reach, to smell the softness
of a peach!
Schooling, all under His perfect
guidance.
Never under earthly contrivance.
Blessing me with earthly parents,
near divine.
Who raised me in religious sunshine.
Always there for me till their ends.
Sources of love and comfort,
uniquely splendid.
Will see them in glory, when my
life has finally, in His peace, ended!
12/17/2021
It sprang upon me,
a clawed metaphor
not anything real,
but a shaggy crypto-beast.
Hand picked alliterations
scatter like litter.
Then the seductive purr
the mannered modes, the manicured forms
those deftly obvious diphthongs
that like spoor, lead to more -
the unmistakable reek of
a force-fed poem
The first step they say is recognition,
the second step is to admit
a laryngeal contrivance.
The third step is to clean up
without complaint,
when it poops all over the page.
Only a few will bear witness
and stand before such connivance
in its dew of blood
to rip the tongue
and the truth
becomes
the enemy of everyone
Only a few will see
and feel the rusted iron
nailed to the wood of disbelief
payment due in blood
to parch the throat
as the truth becomes
the enemy
of everyone
Yet contrivance earns its pittance
of believable lies
and the few will bear witness
to the faithless stone cold eyes
and none shall know God
for the truth
has become
the enemy of everyone
And the few will weep
to retain such agony to themselves
as the truth will sleep
for the bitter mouths have spoken
with the mockery of thorns
Zizyphus Spina Christi
to keep the deception warm
just as hell has its place
when the the truth becomes the enemy
of everyone
It sprang upon me,
a clawed metaphor
not anything real,
but a shaggy crypto-beast.
Then the seductive purr
the mannered modes, the manicured forms
those deftly obvious diphthongs
that like spoor, lead to more -
the unmistakable reek of
a force-fed poem
The first step they say is recognition,
the second step, is to admit
a laryngeal contrivance.
The third step is to clean up
without complaint,
when it craps all over the page.
With the soul blooming like a divine flower
the journey of life begins on the garden path,
the walkway lighted by the rising pristine sun,
your mind shines in the patina of angelic purity.
The light disappears behind cloud of contrivance,
you’re dragged into cesspool of intrigue of being,
the de-petalled flower turns to thorn of evil spirit
and your soul opens the door of the hideous hell.
The shackled demon of eternal damnation let loose
slithers within, darkens the lighted corridor of mind.
In the glow of receding flicker of residual rectitude
you retrieve your resolve, then the combat begins.
To conquer the devilish self, from your mind’s entropy
will emerge the power of will, the driver of victory.
June 24, 2019
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