Diametric …
art and commerce
Twining symbols
colors adverse
Yin & Yang
divergent segues
Each stigmatic
bloddy payday
Fraternal image
Louvre / Montmartre
Black tie bidding
cobbled heart
A poor man sings
a rich man vies
On bartered canvas
—truth defies
(Dreamsleep: November, 2023)
Human life is one of His sublime creations.
Blessed life is entangled in the clutches of relations.
Diametric elements often co-exist.
Dragon bees and sweet honey exist at one hive.
The seven sins pride, wrath, lust, avarice,
Envy, gluttony and sloth consume souls.
Excessive pride of Icarus led to his downfall.
Blake’s ‘A poison Tree’, about wrath is an eye-opening.
Fall of Troy, envy of Shylock, avarice of King Midas teach us good lessons
Gluttony leads to ugly and shameful body posture.
Sloth pushes into procrastination of doings.
Try to overcome.
No need to encipher the secrets of scriptures
And no need to chant magical words.
Let's unmask our consciences and provide space for introspection.
We can get insight and rebuild our behavior.
Self-Examination is the best practice.
Let's be aware of what we think, speak and do.
Managing emotions builds our decorum
Right perception builds right personality.
Refining consciousness is mandatory to get rid of all impurities.
Placed: 6th
Refining consciousness Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
Date: 01-05-2023
Written February 22, 2017
Motivation keeps us dream chasing
Those thoughts that you hold dear to your heart
Until the world falls apart from me missing you
These thoughts of you keep me holding onto
This abstract feeling called love
Now paint a pointillist on a rawhide canvas
On a Native American buffalo drum
But I digress to keep the beat going along
Keep it flowing to waterfalls where angels sing
A song to the siren, listen to her lull you to your last breath
So you thought this was an abstraction of love, not death
But you thought wrong 'cause they're one in the same
It's the name of game when the carousel goes round
Watch it go round, round, and round
A radial diametric where the angles bisect
To prototypes and concepts
From the concave to convex
Do you do it for the money and sex
Or for the only dreamers that we've got left
Yeah you know you've gotta give to receive
This abstract feeling called love
THE PHARAOHS
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
It wasn’t the Pharaohs that ruled the Nile
It was the priests that sanctioned their style
As long as the Pharaoh kept playing ball
The priests insured that he’d never fall
To make him acceptable to poor and unshod
They elevated his position to a living god
Scams have existed for thousands of years
They prey on ones greed and mortal fears
People have been duped by the glib tongue
Like Lenin, Amin, Castro and Mao-Tse-Tung
Cultures are swayed by the gifted speaker
Obscuring the facts from the reality seeker
Elections are stolen with factual distortions
Twisting the truth into diametric contortions
Demagogues and tyrants have little to fear
They just say what the masses want to hear
Independent thought can be a risky proposition
A word in the wrong setting can send you to prison
That kind of oppression can’t happen here
We’re a democracy with nothing to fear
They follow the polls ,the trends are clear
Our leaders will say what we want to hear
We met in a much slow recognition
Not knowing that ours would be possible
Love 'came a typical disposition
Two diametric worlds in assemble.
Gradually, your hazel-brown eyes met mine
Moving from east to west like the stars
And everything was supposedly fine
We took easily on our every hour.
Slowly, can't believe this love is unkept
Can't get enough of love's falling debris
Then step after step, still cannot accept
That this is the end of our love story.
Our story, started and ended so slow
Even years after, still I can't let go.
January 09, 2016
For the contest, Any Poem, sponsor, Broken Wings
Into the valley to find my voice
that unique element
which speaks only to me,
and is feebly, at times,
echoed in my words,
I fear.
Have you been to the valley
where echoes hide
beyond glistening roads of
scorched obsidian marked:
“DO NOT DISTURB!” ?
It's disturbing.
Everything is haunted
by devilish smiles
which smother to death.
Tread too lightly, or
bear too much life
on the journey
and you’ll be lost.
Forever, I fear.
Dragon fire swallows
the cool blue of the sky, perhaps.
White-hot clouds camouflage
the sear of the sun.
Everything burns,
on the high road and the low.
Here, all sound hides
from the molten intensity;
of the voice in the valley.
My voice, I fear.
Forge ahead, 'til you see
distantly, a defiant tree.
Diametric to the horizon
and the absence of life
she beckons,
she breathes,
she whispers,
and shelters in her limbs
butterfly echoes
faintly familiar
and frigidly intense.
Poetically soft, and sincere;
they sing; I believe.
Enchanting, mesmerizing,
echoes of the voice.
My voice, I fear.
Do you hear them?
12/13/15
how could we be so diametric
opposed even in the littlest things
leaving us unendingly apoplectic
unconscious of what each other brings
to the field of our mutual magnetism
lines of attraction wide-out arcing
bridging polarities of our schism
creating bonds of thoughts sparking
possibility for a new way of viewing
and thinking about each other's worth
without being steeped in conflict brewing
creating our own little hell on Earth
the ear and tongue can come together
from individuals or partied nations
to pass feelings and beliefs on better
than weapons or harsh worded oration
would all the melting ice around
maybe stand a chance of washing away
hurts and hates from common ground
allowing us to meet each other halfway
© Goode Guy 2011-09-16
In the tidy confines
of a cluttered mind
rests the timid notion
that lines taunt human
flaws foreign to the
forces nature conjures
in graceful arcs and
orbits, waves of ripe
marrow rippling with
stippled energies
ever-coursing from
all bounding cells.
Here they stand without concession
Like east and west
Or arguments between the north and south
And judge's gavel hoisted without a sentence
The great rift about the WORD
One believes in chaos becoming order
On its own
The other believes in nothing
Becoming the something more beautiful than dust
Without a before or an after
Faith being the only closure
It is not their diametric position
That distorts the beauty here
But th eviolence that hides the fear
Of thesis to meet the antithesis
Knowing that there can be no synthesis here
No evolution
Without the creation of something
For nature to bang on like a child
A broken toy does not make a rainbow shine
But broken light ... O what beauty in it.
I am no combatant
For me the argument is only an art
Of what words we use to paint the heart
I believe there is a purpose to all things
I cannot see in an accidental moment
I believe in a great unseen
Calling us back ... after all the time we have been.
Diametric opposites in the plague zone,
Segregated genders on uncommon ground,
Existential sexes in grey areas,
Black and white battalions abound.
Separation psyches clash the cymbals,
Sabres rattled, thrusted and withdrawn,
Subtle be their subterfuge endemic,
Equilateral counterparts in scorn.
Her losing is a mask of false perception,
His dominance prevailed through brutal force,
Victory consigned a bleak illusion,
Blinded to an ancient Trojan horse.
Triumph may be gloated yet is hollow,
Garland praise a self-deluding flaw,
Leaves he who is the master of the skirmish
Historically the loser of the war.
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