Mum
denounces gambling
feels she’s “second favourite”
Stone stubborn, strictly stuck until struck.
Then mined like gushing gold, loquacious litter.
From hills and dales, from stillness and storm,
fickle muse must be courted and coaxed.
Trickle muse must be taunted and teased.
Tickle fuse must be ignited and conceived.
There are times when she goes undetected,
times when she is neglected,
and times when I hunt her formless hint.
In such moments, I can be a child with my first kite.
In such moments, I can be fragile fall leaves cascading
as their summer luster is fading,
as the fall perennials are persuading.
There are times when I recoil from her caustic truths,
times when her torment lays bare my splinters,
my shivering fractured ruin.
There are times when she pounces and denounces.
Yet, I go on seeking.
Perhaps her rich occasional flavors entice.
Perhaps her chasmic insights steady me.
Why, then, must she hide under shadowy veil?
Why must I prospect for her timid topaz?
Fickle muse,
Perhaps she is just gaming me.
Or perhaps she knows the travail of endless
trials necessary for my emergence.
Human- what is it?
Ask a biologist and he’ll tell you.
A lump of flesh maybe, some bones.
A mesh of veins, arteries and blood.
Ask a poet and she’ll tell you.
Human is so unique, so beautiful.
For one person another may make their heart beat,
For another they might also, but with hate.
The power of so much lies in human.
But the way it is born changes so much.
What paint it is covered in.
whether its eyes are larger or smaller.
The way its hair curls or straightens.
Does it have a right of life?
Maybe.
Somewhere else though,
not here.
For it may be regarded as human,
but it isn’t HUMAN.
The rights may be appointed to it,
Or it may not.
Depending on how well it denounces itself.
How much it wills to change its paint.
One human painted itself white,
But still wasn’t HUMAN.
Maybe to another species, this hate makes no sense.
‘The paint of human changes so much?’
They would think
‘The way its eyes Reflect its story in black, blue and brown?’
it was born unknowing of what rights were,
but now it knows.
Human rights are the rights of HUMAN not human.
Dark designs of a diverted dichotic mind
Delves deeper into dangerous detrimental delirium
Devious diseased disability discriminates
Dungeon like din disagrees with daydreams
Feeling doubtful, depressed and downcast
Dubious death is in a difficult dilemma
Denial does not deserve double debacle
Delusional demeanour denounces dereliction
Despicable despondence disseminates discord
Disconcerted doldrums makes me distraught
Demoralising depravity derails derangement
Dysfunctional dissonance brings doleful disaster.
07.23.2020
Tears are born
in the corners
of my eyes as sorrow
to fall down my cheeks
in grief kissing my lips
with misery in
silence to fall from my chin
as despair finally into
a pool of torment
yet my tears are not alone
they fall
evoking a pensiveness
and yearning for
a chaotic world
that has been captured
holding it hostage today
Too many lives have been
stolen this year
consuming humankind
stimulating certain
masses to commit such
astrocities now
Where has the gentle touch
of our nation gone?
Too many are being
left to swim
in this pool of sorrow
for the lives that have
been lost
We need to morph
into a nation of decency
because good does
overcome evil
Light always chases
darkness away
We can not let darkness win
Why can't we smother it
with compassion
leaving us
with tolerance and
good intention?
Why can we not
become the young
country who feeds on good
and denounces the evil?
What has become to
the kindness of mankind?
Election time
When the face of the politician
Looks unhappy, so sad,
Just an act, a pretence,
There’s a vote to be had.
When he says that he cares
If a poor man does fall
Just one more lie
Cause he’ll do bugger all
He says that he listens
To the everyman’s fears
He nods to the camera
Cries crocodile tears
When he denounces
Things that are bad
He’s thinking elections
There’s a vote to be had.
I want to live
today
into my being
I want to love
this hour
into fullness
I want to write
this moment
into eternity
Let me live
let me love
let me write
don't burden me
with responsibilities
with agendas and appointments
with guilt ridden reminders
of what I must do or say today
let me dream it all away
who knows
I might be sleep seduced
death directed
before I attain the apex of aroused awareness
what a crime that would be
if I lost this opportunity
to live
to love
to write
let me be
drenched in destiny
can't you see
desire denounces distractions
from what is meant to be
Let me live
Let me love
Let me write
I need to simply be
the woman inside of me
a lover of life, love, and poetry
Eileen Manassian
A choreographed dance of heart and deed
fulfills the spirit that denounces greed.
Why, now, should there still be hunger
when all around there’s food to plunder?
Silos sleep, filled to the brim with grain
for prices elevated to obtain more gain.
Why, now, should our children weep
from hunger pains that chases sleep?
Man sneers at over indulgent greed
when there are empty mouths to feed.
Time blinks in favor of a heart that’s giving
and shares the joy of their own thanksgiving.
© Debra Squyres 01/24/16
Four corners.
Stands, four players.
Quarrels of foul cries, collided.
Facing each nemesis into quadrants, divided.
Individuals motivated by objectives.
Devising plans, careful detectives.
Goal to achieve the highest rank, careful steps--discriminate.
Going by the hit-list, tunnel vision, hindrances must eliminate.
Scoping intensely, measuring opponents, methodical evaluation.
Staying alert, mind assessment, sedulous investigation.
Shrill of the first struck, the red bullet--bounces.
Instant reflex, ricochet the shot, violence--denounces.
The King may bend the rules, charges swift modification.
The Pawns are summoned, critical prosecution.
The Bishop prays for the suspects, classified praises, flattery denunciation.
The Queen cradles a heart, each beat rebounds, battery probation.
Adobe of grace foundeth i
mercy,,affliction comes,ma joy
frawns never,by just one man's
blood,me death
denounces,sickness been buried
alive,agony turned harmony,ma life
is grace raring,above all,ma
destiny is secured in Him already...
Things falleth apart,agony ma
innate,depression ma intake,death
on ma side walk,but His mercy and
grace made me.....i worth nothing
but greatness before the
creator.... Alass
'Tis fate that seals
the rent of wan,
no ocean floor,
no there be gone!
No thought of ill,
or likewise yawn
my energies
are therepon!
While fate denounces
I take song
no mere encumbrance
to belong ~
To life ~ my meaning
risks hopes strong
remembrance of my God could wrong,
I right the venture ~ faith's among!
The cause, not censure
fear the prong
of misconception ~ ailings long
must change exception, strict ~ upon!
'Tis fear that wrestles to succomb
the inward spirit . . . under man's thumb!
He comes to work in no such haste,
And wishes he’s some other place;
“Oh, I believe, ” he always say,
“I’m overworked and underpaid! ”
Yet for every day that Heaven made,
Still he shows up just the same.
After all, he needs the pay;
The wife must eat, anyway.
Much full of regret and reproach,
He criticizes even the mote
Of white dust on his worktable;
He denounces his superior,
And condemns the mistake-prone idiot
At the next table; he cannot
Wait for the hour’s hand to strike five,
To conjure a new-fangled lie
—For when his wife asks, “Where you been? ”—
And end the day with bitter beer.
rare moments of emotional exploration
indefinable spaces between the words in a conversation
warm with feelings found in romance or those realms & aspects of
physical love,
but owing up to neither,
just pleasures within a context of pleasure
brought to the hilt
for the sake of the hilt &
all fetishes deemed glorious
all secret wants & needs specific to each human being
frolic in each weird little world
until they bump into another who shares the same &
in that collision,
the explosion stands for itself,
but these precious, unique events
find themselves pummeled with moral contusions,
times when a third party denounces the thrills of
two individuals
who between themselves have done nothing to harm anyone
who want to bring no attention
(unless exhibition is your spice of the day)
to the ways in which they get off &
instrinsically,
the ways that they have been brought together---
to say it’s a shame would be to largely understate the problem,
for in this day & age
some still think that their self-righteous nature
allows them to condemn the lifestyles of others
because they might not be of their own specific
fancy.
Your eyes maybe small and deep set
But so piercing are their look
They maybe dark as the deep sea
But their shine and sincerity are my hook.
Your face is open like the sky
On which a canvas has been animated
It denounces a soul so alive
A mind so wide, a spirit so liberated.
Your look opens up a view
Of a will connected to the divine
Strong, unwavering around the truth
Beheld by a heart warm like the sunshine.
The lines around your face
Denote a life devoted to all
Sometimes rising in humorous waves
Either in amazement or having a ball.
Other times so very serious
with deep concerns, suffering
with those whose suffer, furious
At the evil forces that today cause such enmity.
Your face is like the book of life
A tapestry of many colors
That shows me what heaven is like
A portrait imprinted on my mind forever.
By CarolineCecile
Copyright © 04.17.10
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