Deadens Poems

Pains of Stupidity

Egotism is the anesthetic that deadens the pains of stupidity

   It lowers the shield that lets one think they have complete validity

Coloured Dogs

Coloured Dogs

Grey is the dog that haunts and whines;
Whose boredom curls, whose mist entwines;
Whose ennui dulls a lively mind,
Whom inspiration deadens.

Blue is the dog that grips the heart -
Turns melancholia into art,
Who tears the light of hope apart,
And drowns all joy and laughter.

Yellow’s the dog who runs and hides,
Who shrinks from life’s high winds and tides.
Whom confidence and hope deride,
Whom cowardice disables.

Red is the dog whose fury roars,
Rejecting peace, extolling war.
Destroying all and seeking more,
With anger all-consuming.

Of all the dogs, Black is the Beast,
Grey, Blue, Red, Yellow, all released;
Descending on the mind to feast,
And turn the soul to ashes.

This pack of coloured dogs is mine.
I hear their bays, know every whine.
And to their states I must resign.
It is my lot, my fortune.

Where's Your God Now, Moses

Hidden in the lies the preachers tell
Gagging on the brimstone stench of hell

The words He spoke back then
Have different meanings now
The idols now  - kids drawings
A purple, haloed cow.

The repetition of the mantra
Deadens mind and soul
Deepening the question
“How will it make us whole?”

“Suffer the little children…”
I believe they’ve had enough
And with their overt actions
Are calling Satan’s bluff.

Hidden in the darkness, lurking in the past
Hoping for a savior that may not come again 
While searching for a distant god
They never look within.

©8/21/2022
*paraphrase of a line from the movie The Ten Commandments

Where’s is God hiding Poetry Contest

The Morning After the Storm

On the morning after, from a stormy rainy night 
I sit on my stoop watching the sun grow bright
 
Stillness and silence deaf my ear 
Silenced sounds are everywhere
 
Chicks peek from a hole in the tree 
On a cable, the chicks parents watch; quietly
 
Not even the leaf's on the tree sway 
Silence deadens the noise away
 
The hare in the grass- not once, did he hop 
The dewdrops on the roses- can't even drop

A puddle rests motionless atop' my table 
Mirroring the shadows of the birds on the cable
 
Porch'd- a rocking chair sits still and unoccupied 
I'm happy the old man- has not yet died
 
He stares from his window all comfy and warm
Smiling, the morning after the rainy nights storm

Coming Back Home

Childhood memories bring warm thoughts to mind, 
Old friends, family, and innocent times.
Merry-go-rounds and childhoods left behind, 
Illusions, mimicking magic sometimes.
Nothing feels as comfortable as home,
Going back only strengthens that feeling.

But returning deadens desires to roam,
And tethers hearts to their place of healing.
Coming back home is the soul's comfort food, 
Kindling flames that keep family fires lit.

Home is not a building; nothing so crude,
Oft fragmented, yet not easily split.
More than anywhere else, it's where you're loved,
Especially for those who feel unloved.

To Whom It May Concern

A cautionary tale of nocturnal abduction
Of trickery born of unearthly corruption
Heed these my words, I state categorical
Of evil so foul, in a world diabolical
No humour here that might ever be satirised 
No wit in a man who be dumbstruck and paralysed
These, the last words that shall flow from my pen
Implore thee to leave ’fore the bat flys again 
This God forsook kingdom of bloodied terrain
Deadens my legs as it scribes on my brain
A Halloween vista of gore ridden mud
With vampires feasting on alien blood


31 October 2020
For...
Contest: Halloween Challenge
Sponsor: Emile Pinet

Down With Pessimism

Down with pessimism
  Drown not in negativism
Beware of escapism
  Steer clear of cynicism

Keep far from fanaticism
  It only invites antagonism
Too lonely is monasticism
  Too stifling, collectivism

Failure dogs perfectionism
  Emptiness mars materialism
Insularity deadens catechism
  Stoicism breeds fatalism...

True, this poem is full of criticism
  ~ But it ends on a note of optimism

Joke of the Day

Did you think you had control
Did you think you had control,
Ha, ha!
Did ya think you had control?
Did you think you had control
Ha, Ha!

You cast yourself a god
In a solo one-act play
You wrote the narrative
To play the hero of the day

Did you think… (repeat)

Now a plague is on the land
From a foe you couldn’t see
It blunts your livelihood
And deadens your family

The meek, they shall inherit
But what is it they crave?
We closed our eyes to dream
And woke up in a cave

We closed our eyes to dream
Just to wake up in a cave

Did you think you had control?
Did you think you had control,
Ha, ha!
Did ya think you had control?
Did you think you had control
Ha, Ha!

Washed and Scrubbed

Intellectual hygiene…
the Poet declines

That dull antiseptic,
that deadens your mind

Once washed and then scrubbed,
the truth a charade

Academic consensus
—the Muse in her grave

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2019)

Douse That Prophetic Fire By Nightfall, Sir, Or the Neighbours Will Complain

To be. To feel.
To feel, to love,
To love. To rage,
To rage, to die
Like a good Romantic, or to sleep like this,
Ghosting about
Like a loose plastic bag
That flaps on a windy night
Under a sodium street lamp’s
Eerie all-submerging light.
O Shakespeare, pity us,
O Wilkes, O Pope,
O Voltaire, O Heine,
O Byron. O Shelley,
Shed tears for us.
We have mislaid the liberties
You fought for.
And the truths you taught us.
The Board of Standardisation
In the interests of this nation
Will suppress the imagination.
Like ranters at Hyde Park
We’re still good for a Sunday lark.
Our patrons are benign
as long as we are innocuous.
They’ll allow a little room for satire
(as long as we keep our hats on)
Just to show what sports they are.
Toothless protest’s just a cliché,
But don’t let slip a waspish quip,
Or “Sirrah, Sirrah, the whip!”
Tow the line. That’s fine.
“Douse that prophetic fire by nightfall, sir,
Or the neighbours will complain.”

A D-Notice served on the brain
deadens every joy and pan.
Cross the heart with this red pencil
And with this stencil write:
THE END OF ART.”

My Car, My House

My car, my crappy house, the job I loathe
and clothes I wear, the girl I say I love
and rarely really speak to; fitted glove
that deadens all my senses, all I loathe
and praise at once is part of living, most
of all my woman, jailer, savior, saint.
I own her, yet she owns me. Could I paint
a breathing body-not this quiet host.

Early Riser, No Cows To Milk

I awaken well before dawn has thought of yawns
It is quiet then, and quite eerie in a way.
The peace deadens distractions, death-hour mourns.
The mind awakens refreshed, sparked by noir cafe.
Contemplation peaks then, and declines throughout the day.

There is no rush to milk the cows or other things.
No deadlines to meet; the slate is clean and ready.
What else can you do at such an hour, but think upon what morn brings?
No one else is mad enough to be up then, all fresh and chatty
Even the shops and streets are all mostly empty.

The sounds are muffled, hushed to not disturb,
Even the birds call out in toned-down tomes,
just to say 'Gidday' with a contrite little blurb,
like those asleep, snore gently and mutter in dreamy moans.
It is so quiet, that you can hear their gentle breathy tones.

A cock crows, a bell tolls, the garbage truck bangs day open.
The first light rings an alarm; the pre-dawn think-tank session is over.
'Good Morning' can be annoying if your stuff not strut and done.
The clatter, toil and bustle of the day makes chaos of the order,
which can only return - past day, past night, in pre-dawn embroider.

Dark Clouds

Grey clouds the innocent sky ambushing light turns dark 
stumbling over a tombstone opening up cold graves

When eyes become frozen behind scenes in hidden truth  
as a weight deadens upon the shoulders without hope 

A ghost from past experience consumes the present 
and golden sands blacken beneath your feet fallen one
  
Deep undercurrents strains awaken in the ocean 
Invisible cloaked dagger pierces without mercy

I pray waters calming find peace in this mortal frame
as the whirlpool of desires casts an ominous spell

Upon the sea of life Satanic storms enter Hell
and exudes within the malevolent clouds failure
 
Forgiveness stands at the crossroads beholden no more 
within promise of a dream transparent through the rain 

As yellow moonlight draws one pathway clearly cutting  
brings you safely home to love under a fragile roof   

Under black currents of loss when the heart returns beat 
in the last teardrop sorrow remained faithfully loved 

A Collaborated Poem written by Liam Mc Daid and Red Firey

Dark Clouds - a Collaboration With Liam Mc Daid

Grey clouds the innocent sky ambushing light turns dark 
stumbling over a tombstone opening up cold graves

When eyes become frozen behind scenes in hidden truth  
as a weight deadens upon the shoulders without hope 

A ghost from past experience consumes the present 
and golden sands blacken beneath your feet fallen one
  
Deep undercurrents strains awaken in the ocean 
Invisible cloaked dagger pierces without mercy

I pray waters calming find peace in this mortal frame
as the whirlpool of desires casts an ominous spell

Upon the sea of life Satanic storms enter Hell
and exudes within the malevolent clouds failure
 
Forgiveness stands at the crossroads beholden no more 
within promise of a dream transparent through the rain 

As yellow moonlight draws one pathway clearly cutting  
brings you safely home to love under a fragile roof   

Under black currents of loss when the heart returns beat 
in the last teardrop sorrow remained faithfully loved 


In collaboration with The Irish Poet Liam Mc Daid 
2016

Jealousy

Submitted for Jealousy contest

 feelings, green, heart, heartbroken, jealousy, passion
A string of dodoitsu poetry on jealousy

Jealousy soars a sour note 
Deadens all perceptions true
Carries emptiness inside
 A  broken heart ruled!

Tears sting and run like rivers
When jealous acts take over 
To one's inefficiencies 
Envied mistrust rules!

Green-eyed looks cause love hang-ups
Monsters  insecurities 
That mate with hatred and bile
Wed only heartache!

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