Disconcertingly I listen to
Your long awaited messages, my love
I know you could say more
My dearest, blessed love
Or you could say less
Seeing me from your room
With a back garden door open
Or you could say nothing
Nothing more than you’ve already said
And I will reply
With the words you most expect to hear
Only two of us know
Something special about us
That stays within us forever
I feel hands on my back.
Not real person hands, just clock hands.
So that when I wake up, it’s just me, and that ticking from the clock that I hid around here somewhere.
Clocks aren’t haunted, they are good.
Clocks help us,
So that we all stay in this very same moment.
Even my family.
They are in this moment with me.
Just one room away.
Just one tick away.
I feel hands on my back.
But they are less like clock hands,
And more soft and ghostly.
My clock is disconcertingly…
Somewhere else in this world.
I see yard signs reading JESUS 2022
Scattered throughout the neighborhood
Confused, I wonder what they mean, too,
Are they merely expressing an attitude?
I’m told they show support for Trump
That some believe he is the Messiah,
It certainly seems an awkward jump
For many of us, he is a noxious pariah.
I can’t see Trump appearing on a white horse
Or standing for virtue and principled truth,
I find him unapologetically crass and coarse
Not to mention disconcertingly uncouth!
I surely wouldn’t want my neighbors to know
I think Trump and Jesus have anything in cahoots
For Jesus came in peace and love to bestow
Jesus taught everything that Trump refutes!
Written July 21, 2022
Muse sits on my shoulder
in the most embarrassing places
being frank and bolder
sometimes she even disgraces,
I find her prompting me openly
when I am completely occupied,
I must not ignore her coldly
She can be disconcertingly snide.
The toilet seems an unlikely place
When business I’m attending to,
I am seeking that private space
Where I can quietly do my do,
When she peppers me with ideas
Words, themes, phrases, then
Suggesting the bizarre and curious,
Only to leave me blank when
I no longer sit on the throne
And struggling to find her voice,
All I hear is her frustrating groan
While I struggle over a word choice.
Written July 21, 2022
Yesterday I lay my hands upon my heart
And, compelled by each wave screaming down my cheek
I squeezed with cold intent
Watery eyes pumped full with blood
I watched as its face turned blue
This heart deserves better
For I know all that it has endured
Suffering the torment of a tall world
Whose downward scowl has dulled the air
With an acrid mist of hopeless ignorance
A second glance at this reflection
Begging for further contemplation
A chance to begin again and rebuild
But its a time withered thought by now
And in my right ear Reason has become distilled
Disconcertingly quiet yet eerily clear
Empathy crushed this heart will be at peace today
Each day
as the night falls
and I lay my head
on the lap of sleep
to rest,
Someone sneaks in
through the backdoor
of my mind and
lights up myriad candles
of a disconcertingly recurring dream.
Holding my hand
with an angelic softness
It leads me on a
meandering grassy trail
across lush meadows
through the fields of flowers
past verdant woods and valleys
onto a dusty sun-baked path
engulfed in a shimmering
haze of heat and dust to
an abandoned stable
that sits silently and forlorn
in the searing midday sun
amid a windswept wasteland.
There it makes me sit
on a sacrificial altar,
Puts on my head
a crown of thorns
and hands me
a burning cross.
~"Hallucination" contest by Brenden J Simons.
"Dreams" contest by rob carmack
TAKE OFF
Outside the windows grass swathes rotate: we sway
Up and down the dozenth wide runway
To reach the final launch-point for our sally.
Engines whine up and down till finally
Pilot gives power and our necks are pushing
Back into the headrest cushion.
The wheels rumble disconcertingly now,
But the wing tilts up by magic - wow!
Forget your mastery of lift and drag, it’s a mystery:
Rumble ceases, ground drops away quickly.
Immersed in fingers of foggy cloud,
Like an immense cold shroud -
Flying blind, ever up, till we emerge
And blend into the brightness and we feel a surge
Of turbulence reassure us that wings,
Despite their toughness, are flexible things.
Tip to port, we see ground small and slight;
Tip to starboard, now the sky dazzling bright.
Level off, we breathe easier, belts undone:
We start cruising in the sun.
.
My
the heavy feeling of
that screech
And her slam ‘pon me
collectively
as in
her best friend too
came suddenly
Their press was
to say the least
stirring
as myself now
prone
will attest
The conductor of that train
disconcertingly
slammed on
those
brakes
I stood atop a mountain high
Surveyed the vastness of the sky
With arms extended outwardly
A moments thought inspirit me.
I pray you mount, I beg bespeak
Please share with me your grand mystique;
Bestow on me the things you know.
An echo thrice said, “No!.. No!.. No!”
Why? I asked, disconcertingly
Meaning is all I seek, only
Please, please impart what I should know.
Again the echo,” No!.. No!.. No!”
Instantly it began to rain
‘Twas then my quest was all in vain.
The world can be filled with such uncertainty
people of all nations,facing disconcertingly
Roads which are traveled has shown a troubled past
the same path toward the future less encouraging aghast
Haphazardly stepping into hazardous clime's...for me,
I'm just doing my Good time.....in the Mean time.....
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