You say you are my foe
But you're not, no you're not
You're only a faux foe
With your face slimed with snot.
Mister Bourdain clearly in abject pain
The cook feeling crook can't refrain
Asked about same subject did complain
Coffee's not a culture he does explain
Why do they sustain their campaign
His bane such nonsense won't wane
Not like the throng along the Seine
Nor the glitz of Biarritz or arcane Spain
We know a barista may have to train
Wittily says in Italy have made it plain
Breakfast frothy coffee then not again
The agony of Anthony fuels his disdain
Slicker chair made from wicker & cane
Hysteria like wisteria on a trendy lane
Specs and pecs those necks will crane
Feline design plastic surgery is insane
Their ilk less coffee more milk will contain
Let's end yuppie caffeine bean reign
The vastly ghastly inane finally slain
Shallow callow stain down the drain
Forget arty farty latte said Bourdain
He did maintain to party & entertain
Not trippy dippy hippy Lion's mane
Go loco coca not cocoa yep cocaine
A cat may look upon a king;
even dare to turn and ignore him;
walk arched-back before the throne;
make the dais his very own;
sleep beneath the royal footstool;
and kings allow the feline’s rule -
for though none crowned the brazen cat,
no-one loves the rat.
More than just the right to be,
the puss has licence to roam free,
with status shrined by what is done
because he hunts what others shun.
Low born, low bred - yet all know that
a king must look upon a cat.
God, when the mother's cry
arrives—do You hear
the shape before the sound?
The phonemes of her grief,
or merely what they stir?
You hear
the way December hears a leaf:
as afterthought.
You frost
what begs for spring.
We are Your coordinates for cold.
I'm vain.
I thought myself as great but then,
What of all the disdain?
They are saying different truths than what I believe to be true,
What does that mean?
Your truth burn away my flesh, burn up my soul.
Nobody matters to me anymore
Forgive me, I've become a heartless ghoul.
Altho' 'tis something
any sane man would disdain,
should abstain from and abhor,
there are those I condemn
who choose
to cry, 'Mayhem!'
and let loose the dogs of war.
Meanwhile,
no need to think twice,
I prefer a 'purr',
to play nice and release,
tho' they may be old hat,
the pussy-cats of peace.
The bitterness has become a revelation, a recognition of desolation that I have come to appreciate. Wrap me in the comforts of emptiness, where the bleakness renders me numb of mind and absent of thought. Weak in body and unable to endure, I feel like a shell—just a bleeding soul within a lifeless body, left to drift in the world. My fading emotions dissolve, then free me. Vexation and dejection, along with the penitence for my humiliation and the burden of your disdain for me, have now been lifted.
?This is it
?A bid goodbye
?A farewell into the fluffy far lands
?Where souls tango and trouble is amiss
?
?A melancholic release
?Of sweet eerie sounds
?Resonate in the heart of the clouds
?As the soul departs and body retreats
?
?Like the petals from the morning bloom
?A gay smoke dances undead in the loop
?Lot's been learned, lot more has been unlearned
?Thus elopes the smoke into the clouds
?
?This is it
?A true lie is told
?Don't believe in man
?For a demise's gone unreckoned with
?
?The silence you speak
?I say it all so loud in peace
?I'm not just a man
?Aye! I'm a strange man
?
?What lies ahead
?Is seen in the eyes of the dead
?Aye! I'm a strange man
?Lost to all inside of him
I stand as a teacher, distinct and apart
A beacon of passion, with a zealous heart
My craft, a calling, that fuels my every fire
I will not be deceived, my rewards, I must acquire
In this life, I demand respect, a right I hold dear
My authority, unshakeable, my will, crystal clear
I am the trainer of trainers, the mentor of the land
My expertise, unparalleled, my knowledge, at your command
I am a teacher by choice, not circumstance or fate
My profession, a noble pursuit, that I create and relate
I upgrade daily, in my craft and art
A master of my domain, a leader, in every part
You dare not look down on me, with disdain or scorn
For I have taught your parents, and those who came before
If you would rise above me, you must first show respect
For the teacher, who has paved the way, and corrected
1.
Raucous winds sweep pristine waves
against gods' sepulchral canvas as
stagnant, sharp wings' frames rose from malnourished hearts;
ends of elongated crosses marked beginnings
of rotten, venomous roots plugged into dead matter.
2.
Hollowed caverns invaded by calloused fingers
coaxed bitter nectar and pellucid beads:
thus, gashed, aqueous sacs polluted by darkening crimson
rolled down the silken passage.
With each bite, a story is devoured as
monotonous beats of the gnawed linger in the air,
a saccharine image of carnage and raven barbs.
3.
Rough trunks and polished branches - that reached for the fleating dark
blended into mirrored snowy and sickening magenta -
tell stories of woven arrows of bleakness and despair,
a myriad of similar, blurring threads plunging:
upon the lost and benevolent,
upon the putrid and vice,
nonchalantly.
4.
Yearning, bony grip interrupted hasty steps;
despite their current state,
these wane pits easily found mine
(like never before)
their intimate, lost vigor fueling my disdain as
superficial longing clashed with a guarded soul
finally certain of similarities and your self-induced downfall.
Two ravens in the summer dusk
Were, back and forth, debating
From two phone poles, loud and brusque
They kept deliberating
When one gave their rebuttal
The other answered back
But far be it from the kettle
To call the raven black
And while I stood observing
They looked at me askance
A creature undeserving
Of a simple sideways glance
On this one thing they did agree
Those two birds of a feather
And, mocking all humanity
They flew away together.
HAPPY CAMPER
Cultivation of thought with in the heart
That has been seeding in the soul
Journey of the bare mind state
Agitated, while the lifeline is Un whole.
Designing the stream of desires goal.
As time fly's for what is untold
Digging deepest heart of the intellect's gold.
Unwrapping mystery what has been fold.
Following the cycle, revival of the wounded existence.
Up in the hill taking your consciousness talking of its presence.
Persistence of scintillating essence.
Foundation of your livelihood under pressure and pain
Foolishness of awareness for the manhood
Maness and madness laconic repressor of the chain
Disdain oneness, openness of choice
Brain damaged, flawless lack to entertain
Humiliation abashed the self-concept
Simulation of nature without any intent.
Here and there Notion of right or wrong.
Congenial sound of the soul's freedom song.
Beating in muscle like twitch vibration.
Happy camper for the melody of revelation.
[9/17/2022 7:48 PM]
I must confess unmitigated disdain
For those allowing jealousy a place,
An emotion from which I abstain
I must confess unmitigated disdain,
My brain simply will not sustain
This drain upon my cerebral space,
I must confess unmitigated disdain
For those allowing jealousy a place.
Written September 2, 2022
This satanic one lives in a dark, lonely place
He’s thoroughly engrossed in pelfishness,
Utterly devoid of virtue, principle, and grace
He is lounging in narcissism and selfishness.
While he views other leaders with disdain,
Claiming his greatness with disgusting ego
He clearly cares only for what is his domain
And those who recognize it will rate him a zero.
V. Putin -- of such pitiful, unenviable nature,
Alone in his well-protected, Moscow capitol
Fearing for his life, his most prominent feature,
While his smirking arrogance is quite classical.
Despicable, this loathsome, murderous creature
He’s even worse than a hypocritical preacher!
Written March 17, 2022
I will never judge you with hatred or disdain
I will never cause you strife that you may in
peace remain.
God forbid anyone insult you or clip your
angel wings, I will stand in awe of you and
the wonder that you bring. I will knock down
all the walls that have made you poor, I will
help you take the leap and watch your spirit
soar. For you I wrote this insignificant poem
to tell you of your worth. You shall have your
portion and your cup, you shall be my friend
secure.
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