TOUR DE FORCE
so enjoyable
flourish
in a cosmopolitan
complex
spanning
the compulsive so
sombre in a deft
narrative
untangled
in panoramic moments
of sustained intimacy i
tonally out of step
&
on repeat
a formulaic empathy
assertions
of the preemptory
surrealistic
praise
the irresistible
close to complete
MOODS
dedicated& displayed
so athentic
a cultural cachet
designed to exist
predominately
in
new visions
visual coterie
du jour
awashed
a mania
synonymous
shoe horned
then
forgotten
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
The carefree menagerie
a very merry coterie
of holiday lovers, and
well-heeled brothelers
they rarely miss a chance
to freeload for free
Not stranded at borders
shell-shocked from orders
~ no pretense of royalty
SPOILED
They have given her all her wishes,
All her wants catered to by the doting parents
Aided and abetted by the doting grandma
And a coterie of accomplices from the brigade of aunts.
No need to wait for for xmas or birthday for that special dress,
No need to build up the excitement of a trip to the circus,
No need to dream :
They have spoiled her youth.
They have in fact already stolen all her dreams.
11 April 2021
I am so tired of waiting,
Aren’t you,
For the world to become good
And beautiful and kind?
Let us take a knife
And cut the world in two--
And see what worms are eating
At the rind.
-Langston Hughes
I was so scared,
They were so kind.
My fingers fall from brittle bones,
My brain leaks from my mind.
We are a coterie.
Bound by truth, bound by lies.
We stand not as one,
But as all.
On our backs we wear a feeble disguise,
Of humor, consolidation, support, fear, anguish,
A prolonged et cetera reflecting those that distinguish
Us.
So let us grip that knife.
With every mistake you make,
With every child born to this life,
With the unexpressed words played in forte by their strife.
Let us grip that knife,
So hot, so sharp,
Yet blunted and beaten.
Rip me wide open,
Because I crave to behold
What those worms are eating.
-Emma
I have to crane my neck
the small coterie presses,
I am too short
for long distance seeing
walls tower over my eyes
like curtains.
“You have to see the hidden in the hidden”
The svelte tailored nose-whisper
expects me to know what he means.
I do, but I am not going to nod
and affirm his effete conceits
besides, I am only here
because of the rain.
I am still trying to step back
to take the image in
from a far view
but there are backs
and back-packs,
slow dripping rain hats.
Spectacles are steaming up
in the muggy ambience,
and he is droning
going to a place
where flowers in a vase
mark a post-revolutionary
something or other.
Now I can’t see it at all
perhaps it is hiding in its
hideaway
almost in front of my face?
I overhear
over damp overcoats
it being coaxed
into something more,
much more
than a few blobs of color
caught indoors
on a rainy day.
a pixie dust allusion on fairy wing profusion
a cranberry wreath on a child of bequeath
a touch of grace on a deer soft as lace
a lantern slow beam on a forest gleam
in a world of gilded fantasy, we are poetry
in a world of innocent dreams their coterie
in a fairy world of love we are impearled
in a moment of creative enfold we're gold
an incandescent light at the end of a forest
one touch of mercy and suddenly we're blest.
The summit 2018
Buenos Aires was and perhaps still is a lovely city
it was here, many years ago I was thought by
a young prostitute to do the tango and other exquisite things.
Right now the city is invaded by a coterie of leaders
from all over the world carving up their interest sphere,
peace talks it is called, and that is ok if they are able
to rein in a Saudi crown prince an upstart who is a killer
dripping of blood spoiling the carpet.
Mind, the nations that supply him with weaponry
are guilty too for the bombing of Yemen, pity Israel is
not on the agenda and they haven`t even got oil.
Soon the show will be over the people can take over
marching in the streets of Buenos Aires, waving flags
of protests about taxes and in the night do the tango
Exposed to types of poetry
a coterie
of poet friends
great poems pen
I wish that I could read them all
from that I fall
the mountain climb
there is no time
How satisfying to belong
we're growing strong
our dear peer group
Poetry Soup
old and
new
a coterie of
the timid and frail
a paridigm
of the
past-
uncnanging
fading
in memory
of the
beloved-
between-nous
voiced
from
morning-sleep
white waves
of nostalgia
linger
upon
the morning breath
of
loves adventures
A coterie of unschooled children in tow
A blind woman shambles from street to street
Stretching an emaciated hand in a row
Hoping a coin her kitty will greet
From impoverished passersby
Who tighten belts to breaking point
Restraining a famine cry
In an exclamation joint
That begs for progress
Hoping against hope
The blind undergo less stress
As dark thoughts crop
Up wondering why fate
So often unfair
Hates the pate
In which brains fare
Badly at the bottom of the pyramid
Where mosquitoes
Mistake them for a hominid
Bereft of tomatoes
For which they long
But can’t afford
Cos their pockets aren’t strong
Enough to jump on board
The tomato malady
From which urban dwellers suffer
Shady, ready already
Succour them relief can’t offer
As a coin drops into the extended hand
Eliciting a thank you
From a blessor who can’t understand
The humility that greets him anew
In a cut-throat
World that reviles the poor
Whose threadbare coat
And spoor swim in enforced stupor and torpor.
I ache for the dream that a child has
Hope for the gifts from the Santa Clause
Wake to the words with awesome pizzazz
And twist my lines in a string of jazz.
I ache for my share of tender love
Like the gentle lift of a flying dove
Hold my thoughts in a random pause
And weave them into a poetic applause.
I ache for my share of health and wealth
Ride on the wings of my family's strength
Let my vibes explore the globe
And rise my work into eternal scope.
I ache for the shores of a wonderland
Spin my life into a musical band
Let my stanzas escape the bound
And embrace the joy of holding the crown.
I ache for the wings of a freedom bird
Fly on the arch of wisdom words
Bind my ballad of intellectual coterie
And master the art of beautiful poetry.
August 3, 2017
Coterie Waltz dancers
step on step off an back
flatter to twist in circles
blend each hand on a rack
shoulder's supple a rhyme
show light th' eyes capture
a world of wonder an lime
slides th' dance an nurture
tending speed an laughter
tripled spins chandeliers crystals
adios e're say to d'er flawless scheme
no doubt faultless in thou dream
how i wish to build my own theme
an dance just as you just gleamed
The illicit flames of cajole will wane like an impetuous act of wind.
Annul with impervious aplomb
Waxing perspicacious avenues
Clearing the nebulous
The schism extricate judicious clarity
Vicarious envoy
Omnious stance
Intrinsic string of which I now belong accrues each dawn
Tenable apotheosis oracular
Aberrant paths engage in the light as the nocturnal recividist abated
The diaphanous window capitulated to alloy
Congential precedence gives prerogative by inveterate enigma
Tangible motif clings
Precarious simplicity carry ubiquitous propensity
Equanimity and audacity interchange
Swrod for Sword
Faux Pas to be no more
Impeccable prowess on inimitable wings
To be cognizant is to see
Rendezvous at the fete
Its adjacent to everything
Magnanimous in all things
Taciturn to the ludicrous
Anithetical of perdition
Verbatim by the imbued
Repertoire 9f the genesis
By Christy Teas
Here I am
Opening a new finesse
Creating a rapport of mercurial genre
From nadir to zenith
I never thought the labyrinthine of searching would never end
The demise of one long ago
Propinquity would never come close
Yet amidst a facade
A reprieve
In the quintessence silence I can breathe
Savior faire becomes poignant
As the genesis holds out its hand
Showing a viable paradigm of which I can now stand
A liaison from utopian will always emanate with levity
That's incongruous
It is esoteric and simultaneously profound
The eyes are opaque
Plausible to deduce by an epitome using extraneous cliches
There is a diaphanous window of not mundane deference
Containing altruism
Adopting protean as a force
Ignoring platitude on a plate of empathy
Fires of cajole
Follow the paragon
They bring inimical hubris and footsteps in nuance
Flames of apocryphal are flamboyant to a naive soul
By Christy Teas
This Casuistry is a paradox
Fallacious feelings repress
A Sophistry you ingress Chemically redox
Tergiversate under scrutiny. A misfit – an anachronism. Elusory emotions to express
My argument a confused paralogism Chicanery
Fugacious Piety worships AWAITING THE FALL
An elaborate machination Formation of
this Cabal To unravel this conspiracy
Renegade inspiration
A
Live
Grenade
Revolution call.
Societal crumblings
A mind poisoned by barricades
Limitations.
Cures itself
By questioning everything
Invalidity, obscurity, corruption
Topple under
Plots of our Coterie
Political pressure
Militant insurgency
Worship the gun
Worship the steel
Guerilla tactics
Metro
Urban
Rurally
Camouflaged pawns
Stratagem
Pieces on the board are people
Playing for real.
Didactic Leaders
And
Pedantic parents
They’re history and experience
In perspective reveals.
Cycle of manipulative
Elite, controlling
The pariahs
Starved in appeal.
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