When instinct becomes
an educated guess
And improvisation
demands quick redress
Like thinking on one’s feet
if too drunk to stand
Be found all at sea
throwing up on dry land
Twisted situations
we find ourselves in
When bundles of joy
reek original sin
Smack on the butt
for showing a bit of cheek
Do everything perfect
be labelled a freak
Gestures, signals,
often appear to confuse
High five, fist bump
a sweaty handshake defused
One or two fingers:
the bird a sign of peace
Kneel with respect
submissive purr on a leash
Diversions, promises,
never black and white
Passive aggression
silent treatment for slight
Jack in the box, ripper
jumps out with a knife
Break a leg, for the
performance of his life
Police warning: never
mess around with guns
Gut reaction sparks a
stampede, or the runs
Playing it very cool,
whilst feeling much heat
Praying devoutly,
burnt at stake for deceit
Sticking out one’s tongue
in contempt, no a kiss!
Sigh of relief
they were just taking the piss
Such is living, such is death
come friend or foe
On second thoughts
syllabic verse, or sh!tshow
By David Kavanagh
hms
A sudden darkness veiled the world below.
Luna was defused by a shadowed sky,
giving cause for Earth to be wrought with woe.
Something strange caused the night to go awry
as a shroud covered moonlight's golden glow.
My pulse quickened at the phenomenon.
I inhaled the floral scent of roses.
Snowflakes drifted over garden and lawn.
Like a fairytale that one composes,
it was a magical scene to dwell on.
Stars were dancing around the somber moon.
The brightest ones provided enough light
to see them twirling to a rhytmic tune.
What a spectacle I witnessed tonight;
stars waltzing and snow in the month of June!
With drooping eyelids, I soon fell asleep,
awakened when dawn's fingers touched my face.
At the window I sat, ready to weep.
Of snow and roses, there was not a trace.
The tale of last night I'll secretly keep.
In diaphanous sapphire night,
the drizzle of argentine moon dust,
the existential epithet of
dulcet melodic descencion,
adorns the pearl-laced waves
of the rolling sensuous sea,
spread seamlessly before me,
beyond the baroque shore,
where I saunter with me
in the corridor of the musical mind,
and follow the tune of soulful symphony.
The rain-washed sparkling sky
spreads the seamless spectrum
of my opulent dreams,
weaved as the tapestry of fantasy
with the lattice of chromatic imagery,
the surreal strings design the splendor
of the charismatic rainbow motif,
arching over the halcyon horizon
that beckons me to the concert of being,
and feel fascinated the vibrato of life.
In the stalled turbid times,
defused in the miasma of despair,
I turn the dented emotive impulse
into lyrical crescendo of concerto.
On its sonorous whistling wings
I fly in the rhapsodic sky of sonata,
to the harmonic realm of afflatus,
and realize the nascent notion
that life is a song.
A simulated consciousness
beyond our will to choose
Defying Einstein, Bohr, and Hume
where logic stands defused
The matter at hand can’t matter
when rules unwrite themselves
An order once thought preordained
—entropic and indwelt
(The New Room: August, 2023)
We each walk alone
till fears are begone,
whence becoming still,
voids within then fill.
There’s nothing outside,
love and light’s inside,
forever aglow,
in staid heart mellow.
Resting lower mind,
we escape fear’s bind
and then bliss suffused,
desires are defused.
Soul transcendental
is nonjudgmental,
shining in God’s light,
by day and by night.
Divine entwined soul
playing its life role,
thus becomes the flame,
that’s assigned no name.
20-February-2023
Confusion hits a club
That’s when some began to be confused:
When in their club new blood was infused,
Prayers for starting meetings refused!
Soon, Treasurer in Mercedes cruised,
On weekends a Toyota used;
Now, finance files for hours perused!
“Who has our twenty million used?”
Hurt voice responding to the hearts bruised
A Treasurer by query bemused
But sometimes about query enthused…
Next, separatists from what had been fused,
Freshly ticking time bomb long defused
‘Calls for an understanding’ abused…
Wouldn’t club’s foes with joy be suffused?
Knock knock knocking on heaven's door
my knuckles are bleeding and still,
you ask me, nothing more
Thick red solid walls erected between us
you labeled me and shipped me off to another Country ...
leaving me with nothing more
Defused, deprogramed, debugged, I walk away
from your locked-in displaced shrug
I am held in a makeshift prison of my own,
though I tell you everything, you tell me nothing more;
Knock knock knocking on Satan's door
Sanctimonious roars from a placating hypocritical God
no Pious gesture on my part, I am not conforming
this misshapen piece of bread you offer me
doesn't feed my aching belly,
I show you everything I'm feeling while you,
escort me, out the door.
ps I wish to thank Michelle for speaking such cantillate truth.
Stress~
ticking timebomb;
found peace-
bomb defused.
02/22/2022
Contest: Bite Size no.37
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Ezekiel’s Witness
David J Walker
It was the Spring before Eddie died that Fall
The graveled back road leading to the
end of the airport runway and an audible adventure
In the perfect evening air
no wind
as the light defused
into the equinox sky
we parked his Buick on the leeward side of
the barbed wire fence just beyond the runway
and stood in the chilled and perfectly stilled night air
Where
we became four animated fixtures
beckoning to the coming Continental Airliner
watching it grow nearer
bigger
louder
roaring
rattling our bones in the backwash of
a passenger jet landing on time in
the middle of nowhere
Ezekiel bore witness to the wheel in the wheel
Way up in the middle of the sky
Ezekiel bore witness in the valley of bones
Dry but not lifeless
Eddie left a note naming the boys who would
Bear the pall of his casket
It was the fall of our senior year
There is radio silence today.
Usually I can tune-in,
today the deaf shout behind their words,
I stare at their moving mouths,
grapple with steams of muddled articulation,
not reaching anywhere close to a meaning.
An oral fog accents a strange language,
one I have yet to comprehend.
Is it I that's disconnected,
my mind defused like a used bomb shell?
I see a lot though, hear a lot,
but not in a way that can be interpreted
by anyone but those fabled lesser gods
that translate the world through
a mute and wondering heart.
A sudden darkness veiled the world below.
Luna was defused by a shadowed sky,
giving cause for Earth to be wrought with woe.
Something strange caused the night to go awry
as a shroud covered moonlight's golden glow.
My pulse quickened at the phenomenon.
I inhaled the floral scent of roses.
Snowflakes drifted over garden and lawn.
Like a fairytale that one composes,
it was a magical scene to dwell on.
Stars were dancing around the somber moon.
The brightest ones provided enough light
to see them twirling to a rhytmic tune.
What a spectacle I witnessed tonight;
stars waltzing and snow in the month of June!
With drooping eyelids, I soon fell asleep,
awakened when dawn's fingers touched my face.
At the window I sat, ready to weep.
Of snow and roses, there was not a trace.
The tale of last night I'll secretly keep.
December 1, 2020
Quintain - Sicilian Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
Racking anguish vandalize my soul,
as my pen crawls across the empty page,
leaving the mirror image of my vitality.
A futile exercise turns into self pity.
A useless effort in self agitation.
Months of inactivity has left my muse
abused, misused, defused.
It seems I can write no more.
Is that correct? Is it the writing or the muse?
Writing is discipline, a few words each day.
Do I countervail my imagination?
For subjects must be born within the soul,
that soul I forgot about months ago.
Should I dream of valleys green,
or ice capped mountain unassailable?
Is my muse so hermetically sealed.
Perhaps I'll find it again....or perhaps not.
A Silent One Contest
Throughout our lives, we experience expectation,
disappointment, curiosity, love, fear, bigotry, and hate.
And therefore, Fate imbued us with Hope
to deal with life's uncertainties.
Life mirrors a Greek tragedy
more so than a fantasy dream.
Through tragedy, we test the conscience
of humankind;
confronting catastrophic events,
that allows us a window into our souls.
Humanity's story is a beautifully written play
employing metaphor, hyperbole, pathos, and contrition,
to enhance our roles on and off-stage:
attempting to console us for life's unrehearsed rolls.
We live in a world composed of reality
defused with fantasy and imagination:
where love is elusive,
and so precious, as to awe us with its beauty;
and scare us with its fragility.
Kindness should be its own reward:
but in the guise of charity and altruism,
Evil has learned to manipulate our thoughts and deeds.
Unfortunately, nothing in life is free of criticism:
not even our perceptions of good and evil.
And so, we turn to God;
praying for His Divine wisdom
to guide us: for we're only human, after all.
Your shield, pieced by the sting of betrayal,
your fears get exposed
for all to see.
And reason races through the gauntlet
of choices available;
each a dagger piercing your heart.
You woke from a dream composed of reality
defused with imagination;
whereas love was tentative yet so precious,
as to awe you with its beauty;
and scare you with its fragility.
You poured out your soul and cried aloud
over the pain that love had unleashed.
What was left unsaid were empty words,
there were no simple answers.
Once love was hot, passionate, and on fire,
but that degree of love leaves you vulnerable;
like a moth to a flame.
The moth cannot help being a moth
with all its faults and desires;
while the flame cannot be anything other than a flame.
And so, the meeting of the two,
although spectacular, is short-lived.
Like a moth to fire's flame, he seduced you
with the beauty of his words, and you fell prey to their magic,
only to realize that love was but an illusion;
destined to disappear.
Dragged through the dirt; your defender
You once deemed me a dependent, now demeaned and discarded despite I delivered
Disposed of; drowning in your ditch detaining the debris of much deeper dilemmas
Distracted for days
Your destined departure, a deceptive directive to disband with no decency to declare your decision
Dispelling all divinity, destroying your dignity
Desperately decoding each direction; detach the doubts from the definite or demand a dream till I deteriorate
Daring to dive into my desolate dome and disengage the demons daunting me
My defense is devotion against the dark and devouring depression
Deadlocks defused and the damage dissipates, drifting till duality finds design or divides
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