His eyes
Lies
Don't suffice
My eyes
Fight
Hide
Our love
Black
Slack
His love
Malice
Poisoned chalice
My love
Naked
Pequod
When Mark Twain was known to be quite dead,
it was all in the news, and it could be read,
but here I lie, entirely deceased,
as a million worms await their feast.
I beg your pardon, please excuse,
but why must it be I to bring the news?
Lying dead on the concrete floor,
Chilly weather and the concrete is just as cold.
How did that bubbly Nice kid die?
I guess he had too much roaming around in his little creative mind.
Gun in his mouth and the smoke still flowing,
Blood all over and the camera still rolling.
Is this an act, was he making a movie?
What about the morning after he is done? His body deep under the calm yet stern mud.
Did he live a facile life or was it a fun one?
And was his demise worth even a dime?
What will be the views of emotionless humans on this lugubrious crime
Surely worth a watch, surely worth your precious time.
He was an actor who was talented.
People are sad because he is dead.
He starred in 135 episodes of 'Sanford and Son'.
People are devastated because of the death of Demond Wilson.
Wilson starred in 'Baby... I'm Back' and 'Full Moon High'.
He guest-starred on 'The Love Boat' and 'Today's F.B.I.'.
In addition to being an actor, he was a minister as well.
When it came to acting, he was successful, he didn't fail.
Cancer ended his life and it is very sad because he had to die.
His friends, family and fans are mourning as they say goodbye.
[Dedicated to Demond Wilson (1946-2026) who died on January 30, 2026]
A shadow veils the daylight
Where sorrow sees swollen eyes,
Dripping tears obscure the view
As silent promise she keeps,
After demise of her spouse,
To share a sunken spirit-
But at night, joy incarnate.
Out into the digtal universe I go
Searching for love searching for happiness searching for make believe
This reality of loneliness is killing me
So many faces so beautiful but are they real
Are they everything I hope for
Scared to speak
Hard to keep up a conversation
The age gap is hard to overcome
What draws me to this curiosity
The fantasy of what I could pretend to be
With no repercussions seems to good to be true
I can play I can flirt with confidence
Is all make believe this digital dream
A cash grabbing addiction
A reckless way to begin
But so gratifying
A digital dream girl
That follows every command
The perfect imaginy reality a made up love
Welcome to the AI of our demise.
“Sing”
by Positive Mark
May all your buried corpses now begin to speak.
May their wails be packed with the same emotional violence that brought on their unjustified demise.
When the splatter drowns out the chatter, it should be celebrated as any other revolution.
Now their fools shoot up the schools and other privatized institutions.
The land we love, and all the fixings.
The Lord above, and racial mixings.
I buried my face ‘tween the darkest thighs.
The gush washed the veil from my non woke eyes.
Everything’s possible on mornings I rise, so those brutalized corpses can sing.
People of demise, with an undeserved fate, like a defeated dream,
With dead dinosaurs, my eternity embroidered by extended time.
May new beings be born from the manure of life, all at once,
Identifiable in the ecology of the world, sometimes alive-alive.
The emotion of the sun, an immense mirror in which we lose ourselves,
I, the animalistic poet, reflecting God in verses that burn.
Blinding us in all things, our gazes are strange shards,
My words deceitful, vinous, full of bubble-poems, oceans.
Feeding hungry thoughts, wrapped in vain hopes,
For I have died formally, before my time, in empty days.
To the venal criminals, secretly scolding life's partners,
Covering the sunken graves under the impenetrable rain.
Under the rain's immensity, measurable, we catch ourselves in a dance,
The supposed heroes, pure sources of lightning, with pale color,
Bringing from the horizon the languid light, the extinguished dusk,
The humanity in me and in him, balancing the dawns in dreams.
Beloved, the night tilts the balance of dawns that intoxicate us,
In the paradox of life, where light and darkness get drunk.
If sadness had a face
A real face with lips and a tongue,
I would have had my first kiss.
Now life's gone living in a delusion that
After my demise someone would miss.
Ha!
In the end I'm just another loser,
No one worth remembering.
And what's the difference in remembrance?
What do you wanna be in the memories,
Be a good boy or a bad boy?
A crowd or just a special person,
What do you wanna see?
You can't have both
You can't be both
You can't be actually happy because
The largest crowd gathers around the loner;
And here I'm, the most pathetic one.
nature to human
exploring relationships -
human to nature
Pastoral
Spring arrives on queue
Verdant colours warm the soul –
Wonders of nature
Pictures
Turner et al paint
Landscapes of life are then housed –
Framed for reflection
Impact
Then human advance
Nature abused through the ages –
How is this progress?
Downhill
Sustenance lessens
So life withers on the vine –
Mankind declining
Ending
Far away planet
First signs of life have begun –
We wasted our chance
Your words, a double-edged sword,
Sometimes pierce like an arrow's chord,
Other times, they surface like a wound,
Leaving scars that forever resound.
Every step, like shifting sands,
I walked, veiled, with heart in hands,
Through your streets, where complaints did turn,
To hatred's form, and love did burn.
The whispers of our home's demise,
Scattered like leaves, with fading sighs,
I doubt your words, O preacher true,
Tell God, from His throne, to intervene anew.
Thousands of rebellions rose,
Yet not a single movement showed,
The cups were shallow, I confess,
Friendships were fleeting, a moment's caress.
Waqar, I've survived the stormy night,
The bonds of blood, a wrathful blight.
I knew an old buffoon
quite the gloomy poltroon
who through a stormy monsoon
flew his hot air balloon
and among the Walloon
and Flemish
much to their surprise
did not meet his demise
but with neither a blot
not a jot
nor blemish
at all
on hand
in the small
6-Government
densely populated
parliamentary constitutional monarchy
3-language country of Belgium
safely did crash land
demise of my horses
I had been away for a few days
visiting an aunt in Cascais
on returning home
my three stone horses are gone
a cheerless hole where they
had been tethered
Widening the road, they said
for this beauty must go
the enlarged road can carry
more and more cars
until the enlarged road is
too small, they decide to
build a motorway
with toll booth
The other side of this new
the road will be impossible
to cross on foot
Neighbors often visited
becomes strangers
Sun or rain, spectacular
my horses were
before turning into grit
Speaking out about what
he does not know
tho' saying it long and loud enough
will never make it so
and by the size of the sound
of the flute he toots
(or, is it his trumpet he blows?)
this Cockwomble's too big for his britches
he's way too big for his boots
as for he who shall not be named
for all the world to see
someone should pull out the rug
from under Mr. T.
take him down a peg or two
cut him down to size
as he lies then denies
it could be his downfall
it would be his demise
Amalek is the archetypal enemy of the Jews and the symbol of evil in Jewish religion and folklore. Amalekites represent an "eternally irreconcilable enemy" that wants to murder Jews.
Israel begins a war against Iran
The battle rages on, it seems
The time has come, can wait no longer
Must stop the threats’ unending streams
From Tehran, Middle East warmonger
They’ve added fuel to the fire
And paid big bucks, attack Zion
Atomic bombs prepare, aspire
Their demise begins at dawn
Rise up, the land of lions, roaring
You waited long enough to fight
Stay on the map you must be warring
And ruinous deliver smite
Amalekites, the vicious slayers
Must never gain the upper hand
To answer Jewish fervent prayers
In truly Biblical last stand
No one to know what future’s holding
But let this be a swift defeat
We watch events as they’re unfolding
May Zion’s victory be sweet
June 13, 2025
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