What can the light give us?
The faith to start
The courage to impart
The clarity to define
The energy to realign
The power to discover
The wisdom to uncover
The vision to seek
The strength to keep
The curiosity to inspect
The culpability to resurrect
The discretion to know
The motivation to grow
The passion to reveal
The permission to heal
What can the light give us?
Infinite altitude
Love
Not felt, nor seen
Lost….
Forgotten, lost to the waves
Waves of hurt, bobbing away
Locked, in prisons of their own making
Cut off from the shore
Shores not seen a while, marooned
Till the rocks of culpability, to break
To open a heart, shipwrecked
Shipwrecked in a sea of delusions
Shipwrecked in a sea of angst
This sandwich is destitute
And the dijon has expired
A miraculous vision appeared to me, a gentle lady
One who gloriously gazed on my face
What is the life of but Art and Science?
The Shepherd's Dream?
When there are no living to remember the dead.
God knew of the culpability
The rearrangement of kitchen condiments
The kitchen being a cathedral of failure
Church of pie
I am the balcony in the balcony scene
And I'm exploring mental health through poetry
Hoggish, empty, splod.
Some people think these recent disasters
Are caused by abuse of the planet
I tend to think they're natural occurrences
The world is just running the gamut
The ebb and flow of changing conditions
Are normal like any time previous
The world has existed for billions of years
Foolish to think we'd be impervious
It's how it's been since the dawn of existence
Today, we're in a technological time frame
To imagine it's the reason for all this mayhem
Is wrong, we shouldn't assume all the blame
There are certainly mistakes man has made
That surely hasn't helped the environment
But to suggest that these are the only reasons
The blame has an unjustified placement
No doubt, we've had some manmade disasters
Without question, can't dispute their effect
Humans certainly are not without culpability
But we've never been thought of as perfect
We are only visiting for a relatively short time
And our challenge is to try our very utmost
To leave it a much better place than we found it
What a great reason for us humans to boast!
A view is an antic of peaking surplantage,
of a particulated particular-
vantage of window dressing the addressing of
undressing, show, nark of culpability.
Causing a scene, perception slanted
with ideal synoptical instantainables processing implanted proof that is nosey and wants to know,
what it is, to see.
Some people think these recent disasters
Are caused by abuse of the planet
I tend to think they're natural occurrences
The world is just running the gamut
The ebb and flow of changing conditions
Are normal like any time previous
The world has existed for billions of years
Foolish to think we'd be impervious
It's how it's been since the dawn of existence
Today, we're in a technological time frame
To imagine it's the reason for all this mayhem
Is wrong, we shouldn't assume all the blame
There are certainly mistakes man has made
That surely hasn't helped the environment
But to suggest that these are the only reasons
The blame has an unjustified placement
No doubt, we've had some manmade disasters
Without question, can't dispute their effect
Humans certainly are not without culpability
But we've never been thought of as perfect
We are only visiting for a relatively short time
And our challenge is to try our very utmost
To leave it a much better place than we found it
What a great reason for us humans to boast!
Come with me to St Matthews cemetery
a flock of culpability
What are red faces for ?
The incidence of pious Rosetta
At the graves edge
he was returned
An avalanche of prayers
omits forgiveness
A life unworthily lived
unmatching the reverend
The bats resume their business
The uneasiness of the pews
Feathers are the sinews of hope
Their curved plumage
thinks well of an English Hill
Plastic Alice
through the looking glass
Her daughters have Pans merriment
Hungry for the here and now
Culpability over reality
They are non traditionalists
Parking on yellow lines
Forever disobedient
The Sun can't shine
forever lacklustre
is their main amusement
tribes
What is said is said and cannot be undone
the white people take a perverse delight
in denigrating themselves as it should be
a fearful badge of honour
(Do we detect a certain pride?)
Every tribe of people where murderous against
incomers as they upset the balance of cohesion
and must be fought with cruelty.
Every tribe in the world has committed atrocities
even the Jews, when given a chance,
But only the whites revel in the false culpability.
Was literature, art, music, philosophy and morals
a white man's burden?
They come from Muslim countries to seek sanctuary
yet demand we shall bend to their will to respect
Their faith, at the same time, hates Christianity
trying to destroy those who gave them succour.
White people should be proud we achieved greatness
where others sank into barbary.
Telling a lie to conceal the truth is a disgrace
Everyone knows Trump is the consummate liar,
It has been said that he lies mostly to save face
But I believe he lies because his tongue is a fire.
Like all persistent liars, he cannot help himself
Having learned it’s a way to escape any blame
For misdeeds he can simply put high on a shelf
And deny any culpability because of his fame.
It will be very hard for him to testify under oath
For, by now, he cannot separate truth from a lie
It is a predicament making him particularly loath
Lying under oath will give us his final goodbye.
Written October 28, 2022
Never doubt the availability
When looking for culpability
The guilty never wish to admit
They are, indeed, the culprit.
Written July 12, 2022
You hastily spilled a loaded jar of stained language.
Sky aglow by a rainbow, as sunsets below a ledge.
Pouring a layer of dullness into a pristine scene.
Murky clouds have drowned the gentle sunshine.
Unscrupulous guarantees, sand-tidied venturing,
And the heart will stow away in the way they review.
In the azure sky, golden rings are instantly plunging.
Blackbirds crow around humans peacefully withdrew.
Storm haze from a weakening typhoon stream.
Realizing the window curtains inhibit late-day sun.
This fear involves a torrential downpour dream.
Nowhere for adoration untamed stallion to run,
He wanders around this forsaken dust bowl land.
Without a stated objective, just a promise in hand.
Dreams of enigmatic and utterly ease dry,
The rises speak culpability as they move away.
Written; December 26, 2021
A fearful mind approves each deft move.
As a roving lout, I have a soft spot and am sensitive.
Your clarion call ought to be a full-scale disorder.
I'm weaving dim deceptions over my slander.
I've generally battled vulnerability.
I'm not even close to what I ought to be.
I notice myself faltering in the water alike a log.
Mr. Culpability, can you hear my pathetic blog.
I've been in anguish because of my apathy.
I don't notice whether I mend and gain some theory.
I'm similar to a plane colliding with the Earth.
Mr. Obligation, temper me in going girth.
My transgression was my erroneous gloss.
I've needed to stumble rather than be in progress.
I've been oppressed by lethargy for longer.
I'm tired of hearing "Morons" again and over.
Ineptitude won't sustain the edge unexpectedly.
Flightiness won't ever again hold the mastery.
1st place contest winner
Written: August 7, 2021
A Brian Strand 4 to 14 line Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
One fine day, maybe,
light will shine again.
For life is dying,
All life nourishment
is cut off, all air
toxic sodomized,
plants suffocated,
Harmony halted,
an overloaded
of emotional
culpability.
We pave our way to
hell, our evil with
insincere designs.
Gracious mysticism
is a dirty word,
peace a bygone dream.
Trees are felled, or burned,
rills chemically
polluted. Deprived
are fish of their seas.
The polar regions
are slowly melting.
Yet one day, maybe,
the light will shine once
more and maybe I'll
find a deep baggage
full of bright rose quartz.
11 April 2021
Anacreontic Verse Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
30 lines
5 syllables per line
Checked on www.howmanysyllables.com
Area 51 reruns itself.
Tube-fed alien hitchhikers
hideout in paper suits and
sweat mercury.
Mothers in desert tan caravans
bleach breakfast,
call skinny kids in,
mid-century ray guns
glitter in sparking hands.
Comical signs
on shimming roads to nowhere
direct and redirect at will.
New Mexico keeps its spells
While headlines change minds.
Local Maps are 10 dollars further.
We want to stay cool
with a low maintenance blond
in an adobe dabbed motel
but there are silver balloons out there
they are made of desert dreams.
Tequila stained shotguns
hunt aluminum tracks.
In government condo’s
workers pack for a ride
to an unnamed airport
No name tags please,
no indications of culpability,
just load your life
point it between two trailing stars
shoot the gawking rumors
wherever they appear to fly from.
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