Black and sticky
Karma filled up
Wears me down
Achy swelling
Universal truth
Virtue uncultivated
State changed
Rebirthed anew
Matters energy
Never ending
Reformed anew
With karmic debt
Repayment due
Suffering, (dis)ease
Attachments galore
Cosmc disconnect
I often sit and wonder
why ancient man survives
Lacking all the gadgets
modern man and woman have in their lives
Why me I am an example ,
all the things I have acquired
Gathered all around the world
from countries far and wide
Downstairs there is is a sauna
doing what the sun would surely do
The slant board replaces
lying upside down upon a hill and there's a wagga too
There's a mobile phone, there's a computer
so we can disconnect
Physical engagement with our fellow man
it's wrecked
I've got picks, I've got shovels. I've got forks
to build a garden bed
Ancient man and woman just wandered
when they wanted to be fed
So how to disentangle
from this crazy style
It's a complicated answer
you are going to have to wait for a while
Footnote; Wagga our nickname for a Zen Chi Massager
From the e u..For denying the reality of free
Speech..The benifice of free speech, and not encouraging 'free speech' although their existence, and purported mission is
To maintain, and project free-speech, also as a
Safety valve, for European citizens and
A sign of commitment, and reassurance
To the wider worlds equlibrium, as a result.'
The current failure, to be an effective broker of all of the above values..Leads me
To request the (paltry two billion) that I may redress the balance.'
I hate this void within
this gaping hole
that screams of silence
thumping echoes in my brain
endlessly night and day
Images i can't decipher
hover of the edge of darkness
tinkering their bits of bitterness
a black hole in motion
without rhyme or reason
AP: 2nd place 2025
You hold a story of me that is not mine,
the version that smiles,
makes polite conversation,
tells just enough truth
to keep you satisfied.
But you’ve never witnessed the war.
How I fight against the silence,
how it curls into my lungs
until breathing is tantamount to failure.
I wake some mornings
to the sound of me thinking my own thoughts,
too loud, too sharp,
examining every small detail
I could’ve done differently.
They don’t teach you how to shed shame,
how to stop staring at yourself
as if something needs to be repaired.
You say,
"Talk to me."
But there’s no correct way to prepare
that I do not wish to be saved—
just sat with.
Just seen.
Without the expectation
of putting myself into words.
Frayed mangled sparking wires crossed dissonance hang-up sires Metallic smoldering stench friendship slipping monkey wrench
I can tell she’s not really feeling me
All she wants to do is disagree
I really love her but I feel like she just wants to be free
I feel useless
She’s got so many excuses
It's my feelings that she abuses
I need her in my life, but she needs me to let her go
I wanted to marry her; but she’ll never know
She’s never going to grow
I don’t know what else to do.
Waiting so long is making me melt.
A ghastly light is washing this room.
The sounds are like poison.
I must steady myself if I want to remember…
And even as she explains the moments between blackouts…
It is like she is telling me about a stranger.
I guess numbness made me forget.
I think she can see my inflection.
And that I am nodding aimlessly.
Maybe I’ll remember some day…
The room is faltering again…
Thank you for telling me.
Thank you for cherishing me.
There's a big disconnect
one that we can't seem to perfect
It ain't gotta be perfect
I just want this to have purpose
they say whatever you want to grow
make sure you keep it watered
but I gotta say, these issues we have
still seem unreal at times
it's like being at a restaurant
and they keep messing up your order
This ain't about pointing the finger
because I know we both have our issues
we tiptoe around this lingering problem
thinking as the days pass we can just
we sweep it under the rug
but this isn't the way you deal with things
especially when you in love
Maybe it's because of the disconnect
with our love languages
I know arguments is something
you rather abstain from
but a relationship without the tough convo's
isn't a real one not by far
understanding and loving each other
is still that star I been shooting for
The farther away you get from your essence
—the longer your nights become
(Dreamsleep: July, 2021)
Eyelids flutter,
White canvas shutters,
Open to the work around,
Close these windows,
And I dream of sin and slave.
I'm red underneath,
But I hide it with parchment,
And nod my agreement.
When light meets dark,
And the villain shakes hands with the lamb,
Is when you'll know who I am.
J-ust disconnect the link,
O-bserve the physical distancing;
E-liminate the close contact,
L-et mask stop the viral thing.
G-o disconnect the link
O-f the pandemic peril;
N-egate the horrible hazard
Z-one of the dreaded devil,
A-llow the dirt to evaporate,
L-et the grime silently sink;
E-vade the human hug,
S-tart to disconnect the link.
Topic: Birthday of Bro. Joel Gonzales (June 03)
A high school reunion on Zoom;
Alumni all home in a room.
Each face that I’ll see
Like a stranger to me
As I will be to them, I assume.
I haven’t seen most now for years.
We’ve traveled in different spheres.
So then why should I care
What I look like or wear
To this jury of long-ago peers?
Yet, preparing before it will start
I get dressed and make-up for the part,
Though my face on the screen
Will look less like a teen
Than an image no lens can outsmart.
In the mirror, I see what I know
But the camera makes each wrinkle grow.
Still, I’m living my life –
Nana, friend, mom and wife
So my aging is quite apropos.
Hope Springs Eternal in our Winter of our Discontent
Poem for April 2020 Poetry Month Day 1 based writer’s digest prompt posted on all poetry and my web page the world according to cosmos
Hope springs eternal in the winter of our discontent
On the daily news that fills us with dread
Perfect storm of hatred, fear and despair?Everywhere we go nonstop fear broadcasted
Despair fills my heart as I turn on the news
Everywhere we are in the midst of the pandemic
Simply put death is at hand
Planning for the future yet waiting for death
At worst we will all die not today but soon
In the long term we are all dead
Remembering the dead all around us
yet I end this poem with a word of hope
hoping for the best
while preparing for the worst
all I can do to stay sane
as I await my fate
on this dismal date
April 1 is indeed
April Fool’s date
is that our fate
this endless dance with death?
and to end with a sign of hope
I know that if I have you by my side
I will survive I will survive
until the end of time itself
takes us to the other side
when thoughts unkind
and winds turn cold
a heart in atrophy
slowly turns to stone
while severed
disconnected
its string gone feral
the soul astray
drifts off
to chase the first
warm breeze
AP: 2nd place 2022, 3rd place 2022
Submitted on September 26, 2020 for contest IMPACT AND METAPHORS sponsored by WILLIAM KEKAULA - RANKED 1ST
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