So many hateful internet opinions,
but not enough compassion or intellect;
There's always an embittered person
raging ceaselessly about everything
So much collective societal arrogance,
at times it like there's no humility
There's always someone in the world
arguing over what does not matter
Maybe they'll get a thicker enough skin,
they might even learn to care a bit less
Perhaps they will later on come to see
that through detachment they can be free
Funny
All the hate I get
Posting these words
Expressing my truth
Avoiding self-censorship
Spelling out the harsh realities
Lost in translation, perhaps
Yet you all add to the bruise
I don't get it
probably never will
How acting like a human
Can fuel bitter feuds
So I gotta accept that
My word vomit only resonates
in this self-contained world
Living as the bitter muse
When the mask fell from The Beast,
The people jeered with glee.
When it stumbled from its throne,
They rejoiced for they were free.
They turned to celebration,
They drank and they did feast,
Whilst men crept from the shadows,
Placed a new mask on The Beast.
They lifted it out from the dirt,
Stood it up onto its feet,
Dusted down its filthy robe,
Sat it back upon its seat.
And when the people turned to see,
The Beast now fresh and strange,
They buried it in tribute,
For they thought The Beast brought change.
You ask me why I think that way
and what makes me think it's true,
if I'm smoking something,
or if I'm sniffing glue,
if I believe the crazy things I've read,
or hear strange voices in my head.
You ask if I'm some kind of kook.
You tell me that I make you puke,
and suggest that I might be insane,
that the doctors found no brain,
or perhaps I have a rare mutation,
but to the jury, I say, "speculation!"
Not everything that is rough is bad
And soft is good
Remember the roughness of the grate is useful
While the softness of the moss
Can bring you down.
Men eat too fast
Women eat too
Dilly dally.
the whole world is happening at the same time
every conversation, every bird call, every lion roar
every everything bunched up to oneness in my head
I carry the white noise of distance wherever I go
I am an out of tune radio coursing through debris
and tin whistle high notes playing one key in harmony
that is my head, that is my thunderstorm in stereo
imagine a life having to speak over an orchestra
but there is a beauty and stability to hearing
all the insects of the world crawling along
simultaneously with every wave and fish fuzz in water
wait, I think I can hear the flowers growing
the leaves falling, the sand rearranging on every beach
though if it can happen a little less loudly
so it doesn’t fill my every second, that would be ok
now, and it has taken sleeplessness,
I am privy to galactic secrets, the gods are chattering
all at once so I’m none the wiser for the cacophony
just full of loud
Short forms have beauty & clarity having succinctness and thus are more easily memorised having the capacity to both show & tell,especially when sequenced into longer variations.And some forms like acrostic,kyrielle, terzanelle, villanelle&pantoum are useful 'learning
the trade' exercise devices just as scales are used to teach piano.They tend however to be too contrived,repetitive and so mechanical.
The danger with longer verse ( labelled as 'free' ) is the lack of ' poetry ' therein ie no cadence and thereby visually difficult to both read and recite . In this digital device age ,this bain thereof 'the 'wrap around' long lines , which all too often,are in reality ,prose 'masquerading' as verse.
The golden rule of poetry ,whether reading or reciting any verse is one 'breath limitation' factor,naturally inherent in the human being.
There is no sin but ignorance. (Christopher Marlowe)
Sin is the failure of an imperfectly made being to keep a perfect law. (Matthew Pearl-"The Dante Club")
ASSUMPTION:
Sin does not exist
Until or unless
It is publicized.
PRESUMPTION:
Public scandal
Is what makes
A sinful act offensive.
QUESTION:
Is sin in silence
Still a sin?
DISCOURSE:
There was a time
When virtue was its own reward,
But, over the course
Of human interaction,
That concept seems to have
Acquired a variety
Of different interpretations,
As well as to have suffered
A noticeable decrease in value
As well as in popularity.
To sin is still,
And always will be,
A human prerogative,
But to keep it a secret,
Nowadays,
Is practically impossible.
CONCLUSION:
At all levels of society,
Too many have learned,
Too well,
The art of removing scruples,
The science of loosening the bonds
Of human conscience,
And have convinced themselves
That sin in silence
Is not a sin at all.
I find it bemusing;
The sentiments some are choosing;
The language they are using;
When communicating their dissatisfaction,
With opposing political factions,
Whose personal appeal they find lacking.
So, I ask this my friends!
Examine what you say and pen.
Would you like this said of you?
Does it matter YOU believe it’s due?
Others may think you’re the back end of a mule.
I guess the question we all might use;
Does it fulfill the Golden Rule?
O children how beautiful the sea
with its white foam clouds,
its turquoise blooms,
its kiddish push’n pull,
its whirlpool, its briny drink…
salt like liquor — be careful of
where the sun beats you red.
…the brothel of the sea
don’t look for its meaning
…just mind me - stay away from
sirens and ethereal rocks.
O children take your pails
build your fairy castles,
fill your moats, until
it gets dark…when crabs
cut loose from the sand
and gigantic jaws comb the surf.
take your boats in hand,
wear your orange vest
in daylight, where the blue
kicks your boat playfully,
and like a friend, the waves shake
the hands of your oars.
be wary of shadows prevailing
upon the tendril waves, creeping,
daring to persuade you out
…just a little further…turns you about -
stows away the bread and buttery sun.
Sleep soundly in your cave,
under your sea-scented quilt.
remember mama always told you
…don’t turn your back on the deep.
3/4/2022
McConnell now says, "I was there!
It was NOT a social affair!
It was insurrection
Attacking my section
How dare RNC not be fair?"
Let us deport-- with skill--
Let us discourse--with care--
Powder exists in Charcoal--
Before it exists in Fire.
~ Emily Dickinson
Good words anoint, ill words kill
~ Florio
It's said that sticks and stones break bones
but words can serve as weapons too,
so wield with caution what you write
let civil discourse have its due.
A finely crafted turn of phrase
will prove more winsome than a harsh
phillipic or a raging rant
that drags one's soul down like a marsh.
Are not our writings most effective
when our readers wish to read
our inner thoughts, instead of feeling
whipped by some ill-tempered screed?
When I hear thunder's crash, I flee
from lightning's sharp, injurious ray -
I hear your thunder, not your words
As though you speak a mile away.
I'm not promoting caged emotions;
ire and outrage have their place,
but when the missile shrieks, there's few
still left the message to embrace.
Written 21 Dec 2021
With your teachings, tired tunes I’m tired,
Hauling its harsh import, I’m tired.
Not with my frugal fate, it’s fine,
Your rating jewels as jade, I’m tired.
By your discourse, a bit iffy,
Karmic fate of if-then, I’m tired.
By your sermons that seem dated,
Scolding, berating me, I’m tired.
Do deeds, expect no fruits, you say,
Of such tired homilies, I’m tired.
___________________________________
Ghazal |01.12.2021| despair
Poet’s note: There are numerous channels on television bombarding religious discourses, even a god channel, all heavy stuff, somehow making some listeners burdened with undue guilt. Here’s the desperate cry of one such man.
So disappointing to have a reputation--
Known for argumentative disputation
When we could be known for a gentler tone,
Raising quality of discourse in our generation.
written November 2, 2021
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