FLOWERING IN SPLENDOUR
recurring
blossoming
curios
of
seasonal
intervals
visuals
&
emotional
moods
in
pursuit
of
exhausting
atmospheric
phenomena
unperturbed
tokens
anticipate
the
precarious
welcome
momentary
pleasure
VERTIGINOUS VIRTUOSO-:-
whirling
wunderkinds
ingenuous
spiraling
paroxysmally
in a THRILL of EXACTITUDE
exceling
apogeal
moments
perpendicular
vanguards
of the ARTWORKS and CURIOS
galleries
sanctum
exhibitions
declivus
gradient
They walk in spotless, pointed shoes, through burned fields
hands in front, folded in prayer.
Their talk drips honey, over the graves they dug themselves.
calling it mercy.
They are artisans of fog,
blurring horizons with smoke and mirrors.
Every wound they make is a misunderstanding,
blamed on the victims of their attacks.
They weave fig-leaf halos out of denials,
as snakes unwind and recoil in the grass.
Their smiles are taut, righteous, and rehearsed
eyes gleaming with the confidence of a practiced con.
They speak of love, but leave heart-shaped tattoos,
as mementos and curios in their wake.
To face them is to stand before a mirror,
that swears blind your reflection never existed.
They fear no reckoning.
For the wrongs are always someone else’s.
Their smugness is deaf, dumb, and blind,
born of sacred, frozen certainty,
worn like virtue naked on face and sleeve.
They polish ashes and call them grace,
reclaiming the fire for yet another fight.
They dress the wound, deny the blame,
their forgiveness ever lame—
in virtuous disdain.
n Earnest's evocative Emporium
there's odds ends a whatnot or two
or they can do a brickbat
novelty knick-knack bugaboo
all nice and bright as a button
altho' they're twice as kitsch
odd oddments and sodments
curious curios contained in a niche
as well as folderol and bric-a-brac
brought from across the border
but the house specialty is really
antiques made to order
He found the journal on the train
Of a young little girl with no name
He sat there reading through her thoughts
Of dragons and Lions in their mighty roars
Or the golden apple that was caught
Each page filled with dreams
Some fairytales with glorious queens
While other thoughts circled around the naive plots
Then he found her wish of becoming an astronaut
The space and the aliens
And the unknown universe and battalions
The growing thought until he dropped the journal
The last page now jingled
Leaving him with a curios mind
Just like a child and the memories that bind
An edifice built in gray stone
by careful hands that are long dead,
the mortar gray from decades known,
insides soot-stained from blazes red.
Mantle stone broad across the top,
sporting nick-knacks and curios,
small nails stick out, from them will drop
the stockings, come the Christmas snow.
Long vents draw air the blaze will warm,
then force out to heat half the house,
to give respite when raging storms
knock the furnace’s power out.
The crackle inside beats back the gloom,
this fireplace makes the whole room.
Some families have heirlooms
Passed down often through the years
So their legacy will not be one
That somehow disappears.
Whether jewelry or furniture
Or curios or art,
Certain objects in a family
May play a vital part.
There might even be some squabbles,
For inheritance is rife
With the problems of possessions
Valued in a person’s life.
Though my heirlooms weren’t many
From the family reservoir,
I am proudly in possession
Of my grandma’s cookie jar.
A time to rake; to search embers,
to pore over resurrected,
fire-damaged relics.
On an ancient shore
driftwood, fagots, and reeds
are heaped up onto a pyre of time.
After the fire there is a sorting.
a probing for talismans and trinkets.
Before the flames, flesh had hidden them,
in its open wounds.
An iron crucifix; smutter tarnished,
lays blackened by the quick flames.
It is held up to the sun,
by a tattered man of woe.
Death’s archeologist
wipes this soot-seared icon,
with a sweat-stained rag.
Other artifacts are long drowned,
they wait for the hands
of fishermen to haul them in,
to return them
to a modern-day Nazareth,
there, Islamic street traders
still sell religious curios
for Israeli shekels.
D r i f i n g
observations from faraway places
dreams drawn from Beta born curios
traveling through limitless faces
distant glow of conscious realities
from here I see
wedding rings around Neptune
sleepwalking awake
weightless again
the ebb and flow
of Light year therapies
meditative monologues
threadbare Thetas
my return Home
Alone----together
“Ethereal Virtuoso”
keys passed
from tongue to tongue
strange kisses dealt
token time turning
gone
useless words written
below whispers
backward facing
closed minds
gone
feathers without quills
dance in silence
fall on breath
beating life
evanescence
drawn up
into unseen arms
you are worn
as gossamer silk
they speak light
without words
anima universal
here
you are unread,
you are the notes
playing in the music
a new metronome
to write a new life
a true song
somnolent invocation
echoes from beyond
mirrors watch you
bodies electric hum
doors open
doors close
something
from within
ethereal virtuoso
mercurial curios
unknown
yet known
they call it
home
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
"God Knowledge"
https://youtu.be/5nhQ2eRTH3k
“Open the Vortex”
https://youtu.be/qK-Dmk-r6CY
"369 Divine Code"
https://youtu.be/jA_conleEqM
BODEGONES*
motifs of still life-
decorative curios
aesthetics assemble
* Still life in Spanish
Her mind accumulates oddments and curios,
contrivances with strange linkages,
attachments that bolt unlikely parts together;
the mechanics of metaphysics.
Pieces of something she is sculpting or
assembling, or just waiting for,
a glimpse of a word-picture
too intricate to be entirely recalled
as a whole canvas.
She discovers these odd figments
on the leeched rim of vision,
where shapes are nameless.
Part of her mind
burns with the light of a kerosene lamp,
the other blazes too brightly.
Slowly she feels the inconceivable
creep upon her, imagines discovering
the last transcendental piece
of a scattered poem, the keystone.
Senses reach for a nexus
there are endless connections,
too many to grasp.
She realizes that her whole life
she has been building images
that can only be seen once,
once before their time, after that
they are just
writing.
I want a freshly baked kaiser roll
Sliced in two with nice lean roast beef
Laid between so I can call it sandwich
Swiss cheese, tomato, Vidalia onion
(Sliced not chopped) with a dab of mayo
And horseradish sauce or hollandaise
Vinegar/salt chips and crisp dill pickle
I have no money or tummy only me
Alone with my empty ceramic center
Dangling on the rail of a high rise complex
Waiting for a breeze to push me on or off
I am a pretty pink vase so have mercy on me
No ferns or flowers inside for company
I am hungry for something good to eat
Curios but mostly epicurious in nature
Give me a sandwich for free as a favor
Perhaps I can pay you back on Tuesday
I can wish for something different
Vases have dreams too to fill the hollow
Ocean mind
Consider the mind like an ocean kind,
the depth and other side are invisible to the lights of mind.
The ocean creates, sustains and recycles,
accumulates and provides fresh water as natural miracles.
Thoughts are like this water, we need to survive,
in the body of water feeling alive.
The curios mind wonders about the depth of sea,
it might brings some treasures to adore for all to agree.
Pearls of wisdom or knowledge of antiquity,
resources of nourishing values of certainty.
Rational stability with great effort enforced,
food for thoughts need to be endorsed.
The shores of new worlds still to explore,
the mind wants to know what is beyond for more.
Facing the storms and elements to endure,
giving faith the ultimate test for sure.
Taken that courage to brave the unknown,
making possibilities the richness to know.
If love is the living water unfathomable and sweet high,
it will touch the impossibility to amplify.
Magnanimous thoughts should be applied even in vain,
then motions are constant in the ocean of the brain.
The living waters is the soul’s adaptability,
giving the body all its rejuvenating possibility.
He accumulates oddments and curios,
contrivances with strange gears,
attachments that bolt unlikely parts together.
Pieces of something he is structuring or
assembling, a mechanism
too intricate to be entirely recalled.
He discovers these devises
on the leeched rim of vision.
Part of his mind
burns with the light of a kerosene lamp.
He does not want to waste much light
on impossible projects,
yet slowly he feels the inconceivable
taking shape.
He imagines stumbling across
the last piece of a construct.
Fingers search for connections.
He realizes that his whole life
has been spent building something
once seen.
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