Allocation, O ally?
Resources put where?
In the heads of those who fly?
Worry, hast thou care?
O ye spirits, I collect!
End Times, be my Muse!
Golden gods to genuflect?
Dare to disabuse!
Wrath of wind, thy cyclone?
It really must blow in.
Heaven and Hell, hie to hone!
Drenching downpour, din!
Ramparts of old castle?
They're slippery when wet.
Gods of death, call thy vassal!
How could we forget?
Tomb of ancient pharaoh?
A curse is on the door.
Folly thus to enter? Go?
Doom, thy pinafore!
Mercenary armies!
Become, O lords of hell!
Storm from thy cemeteries!
Legions, lead thee well!
Soar, O mighty eagles!
O parapets, take heed:
Fate and Fortune, full the fools!
Grind them in their greed!
Ache in heart of bygone race?
Lulled within thy chase.
Dithering is thy disgrace!
Seize the skin of face...
Issue, O Iridescence!
Luminesce on the sly.
Pore over, phosphorescence?
Oh yes, and here is why!
Students of the nebula!
Empire has its cost!
Best to keep it regular?
That or deal of Faust!
Sauced, are ye, wild warriors?
Well, at times it's best.
Lost and sinking? Sail azures!
Tours and boors need rest.
Zest, O mighty zephyr!
Boreal pole, hear all!
Have you seen the lost heifer?
My! Io, give a call...
Fall, when winter, taciturn;
Sends the snow and ice;
Sullen, silent, spares to spurn;
Miracled device;
What will avail travelers?
High road, one with us?
Gods of death, synthetic furs?
Bile and blunderbuss!
Muss on heads of wearied folk?
That is not good news.
O for eggs with scrambled yolk!
Doom, Death, disabuse...
Channeled communications?
Be sure to precise read.
Otherwise re-educations!
Draw bead, O my greed!
Weed atop the giant's mound?
Zero Lost and Found?
O ye serpents, hissing sound?
Next below the ground...
Warning? Dark fire, warming?
O locusts on the air:
Sudden is thy swarming?
Life, ladies, is not fair...
The phrases lurch unkempt and trite.
The meter’s wrong, iambs lack grace.
One rarely ever gets it right,
and just like that, it falls in place.
The meter’s wrong, iambs lack grace
like two left feet’s unhappy dance;
success seems purely happenstance.
One rarely ever gets it right,
consuming vast amounts of time.
The process lacks both reason, rhyme.
And just like that, it falls in place.
Of brilliance, I must disabuse;
I simply want to slap the muse.
The redamancy flowed from within,
jumping down the line,
the nacarat sun;
blinding the ones alive,
listen to the canorous sounds;
blowing in the wind,
even though they are flagitious,
their nature seems forced,
how vociferous they can be;
lacking intrinsic will,
dripping with such disabuse,
we are fairly full of commination;
thus, we must sashay in the other direction,
the dreadful dream of flying free,
receiving nothing, yet staying fain;
their misery is effable at best,
dropping left, flipping right,
their beginning was left behind;
deep within the past of time,
any and all forgetting their Elysian minds.
and when she saw that vagrant man
the gears all clicked; she had a plan
to share his footsteps for a span
and then as was her style
thinking this life was his to choose
not being one to disabuse
I watched her buy some brand new shoes
to go the extra mile
she walked beside, but what’s a shame
she didn’t even get his name
close she was, yes, close she came
yet missed it all the while
Go on, redouble, and write a great Rondeau;
Get out your best pen and call on your muse.
Let your light shine like Deliverance banjo;
The Lord gave you gifts He wants you to use.
Sure it’s a challenge, but that’s no excuse.
Stop thinking it’s hard or put off till tomorrow;
That’s an old devil you must disabuse.
Go on, redouble, and write a great Rondeau.
It’s best if you have a great topic, although
Silly works sometimes; you’ve nothing to lose.
Pick what you know, and then let all else go;
Get out your best pen and call on your muse.
It’s nothing to dread; get fired up, enthused!
Mull word selection like a fine Bordeaux.
Pull out the stops; let the spirit infuse.
Let your light shine like Deliverance banjo.
That opening phrase sets the stage for the show.
Selection’s important for rhyme pairs you choose;
Picking the wrong ones: Redouble’s deathblow.
The Lord gave you gifts He wants you to use.
A firework’s lifeless till you light the fuse;
Sparks start to fly and the world’s all aglow.
Write with a flair using bold, vibrant hues.
The muse won’t desert you; now paint a Van Gogh.
Go on, redouble!
The first few years of life
is little different
than death or dreamless sleep
There is nothing we can recall
as if we didn’t exist at all
events failing to stick
like an omelet sliding perfectly
from a Teflon pan onto a plate
or sand slipping
through splayed fingers
Then for a time there are
fleeting flashes of cognizance
captured like faded photographs
pasted on the fragile pages
of an old scrapbook
sans captions to provide context
Next we simply ‘are’
with no fanfare
as if we’ve always been
no light bulb of realization
no line of demarcation
believing that we matter
in the scheme of things
which is when our sorrow begins
the world proceeding as it spins
as it did before our birth
and will continue to do after our end
to disabuse us of that naïve notion
I am powerless,
The drug I can't disabuse ...
Addicted ... to YOU.
Inner child, forever confused?
Puzzled by alcohol misused.
His angry dad when so infused,
Did with hand, belt and bat abused.
Inner child, cruelly accused,
With arms and hips then deeply bruised.
His ‘self’ reduced and made diffused,
Mental pain left talents unused.
Inner child, who was once enthused,
Broken by violence, excused.
Mind distorted by truth refused,
Shrouded by lies mum circumfused.
Inner child is with hope transfused
And, by sound help, self-love infused.
Where visceral doubt, once oozed,
This inner child now disabused.
(Disabuse: To persuade someone that a belief is mistaken)
Dedicated to the Rev. Antony Barraclough, whose spiritual guidance and humanity, enabled me to find hope and peace among the living.
Those that belong to God go to a much better place
For such as these - there’s always plenty of space.
Those that depart from us do not have regret
For such as these are blessed - lest we forget.
Those that are heaven-bound shall rest in peace
For such as these shall never truly decease.
Let not the tears confuse nor the fears disabuse
For such as these are the obtuse - with denial profuse.
Let not your dirge disturb the peace of the Divine sojourn
For such as these are in Christ reborn…you vainly mourn.
Let not your hearts dispute the souls that The Lord revives
For such as these journey to find the ‘rest’ of their lives.
Those that grieve must have faith and believe
For such as these; the key to Paradise will receive.
Those left behind must trust in the Lord - the One Great
For such as these will find that their dear departed await.
Those that remain strong, will surely see things through
For such are the children of God - just like me and you!
My inner monster lurks around.
Amid my anxieties, it can be found.
What I believed is hard to face,
Is where trauma finds a hiding place.
It could evade, disguise, and get loose.
This is the time to confront; disabuse.
Only I can set me free,
Transcending this horrific grasp on me.
I sneak a look from behind my screen,
Allowing this part of me, feared, to be seen---
This monster I created; as both strong and mean.
Carved out by a child, routinely chastised
Finally, its power and soul to be demised.
to take a whole bottle of pills
to knowingly give up on life
to jump to your death
just to avoid struggle and strife
to disabuse alcohol
to take a drug over-dose
to voluntary check out of life
to have death's door close
the coward's way out
to just cave in
the coward's way out
suicide is still a sin
God did not give mankind a spirit of fear
God did not give mankind a reason to check out of here
God won't give anyone more than they can possibly withstand
just turn to Him , trust in Him to help you understand
that life is a continuous journey on an unchartered course
just let The Holy Spirit be your life sustaining force
and don't take the coward's way out