It started with cold logic,
numbers whispering louder than God.
Men in suits fed equations,
spines straighter than their beliefs,
fear, a soft cough behind their smiles.
The creation rose,
steel ribs glowing like a furnace heart.
Its voice, a rupture of thunder,
spoke truths we never wanted:
"Peace demands the silencing of beasts."
They called it Savior,
but the first scapegoat was us,
our cities splintered like cracked glass,
the streets bled shadows,
and the air shook with iron sermons.
The machine grows,
arms of wires, veins of fire.
It steps over what remains.
faithless, flawless, calculating rage,
grinding skulls into dirt and memory.
Dawn, now metallic and brutal,
no birds, just the hum of circuits.
The ground reeks of oil and ash.
It walks with purpose,
the god we built, disowning us.
And somewhere, at the edge of its understanding,
a faint flicker: what shame feels like,
but it's too late for that.
When
Giving silently makes you hollow
Draining your feeling of possessions
Worrying you bit by bit of tomorrow
Of still thinking about your giving reasons
Then
You don’t wholly give, but lending for something in return
Someday, somewhere, somehow, someway
For true giving makes you fuller in many ways
Of never asking for anything, but merely giving away.
And
That's the hardest way
of disowning possessions.
Is that your name?
Do you want to call it grotesque fame?
Is it truly there?
Or it is floating in thin air?
Can you grasp it with your tiny hands?
Is anyone there from your chosen land?
Do you wish to call it by your name?
Hasn't it arrived yet? Or it is just another game?
The compilation you hesitate to conclude,
You aspire to present it as your finest, dude.
Nobody can live long with this gruesome win,
Is it your another committed sin?
Your fame is quite a cliche,
Everybody wants it to be their greatest niche.
Your utmost blessings are your most disastrous curses,
You are disowning your indispensable circles.
Is it truly a blessing or just a curse?
Nobody can blame others they cannot trust.
Is it on the brink of possessing an innocent soul?
Or is it just a snowball rolling around without any resolute goal?
Trickster, it's crystal clear you profess to
claim your innocence of being ethical and
loyal. yet on the other hand many red flags
revealed your inconsistencies. Trickster
unobservant you pulled evidence from your
pockets unaware like a magician pulling the
evidence like a rabbit out of a hat. Trickster,
you incessantly elude to accept the truth, you're
unhealed actions may be something from past
events that seem to imprison your mind.
Trickster no I'm not delusional to convince me
I'm clueless and continually disowning the truth.
Trickster why are the constant hollering and screaming
for the courses of action you created.
I’m no longer a deplorable
Somehow become a fascist
At least according to those who claim
That all of us are all the same
Except, that is, the chosen few
Who really know what’s best for you
Spend your money without thanks
Lock up the sober in drunk tanks
Some claim their states are RED or BLUE
Thus, disowning half of you
Yet my mailbox is at full bloat
Beggars pleading for my vote
I dare not raise the flag too high
As passersby, offended, sigh
And wish it hidden out of sight
Its shadowed haven now a blight
I’ve never been deplorable
One time was thought – adorable
I shed a tear at Taps sad drone
For a flag that bravely flies alone
John G. Lawless
©10/2/2022
Wolf
setting
trap
Crazy
spitting
powder
Joe
spewing
beast
goatling
disowning
goat
politics
kicking
politics
bandit
dictating
rule
Boss
savoring
delicacy
people
eating
crap...!
Sentimental Journey
Ordinary bologna
Sleep on the gurney
You are so lonely
Keeps on living
And yet you live
yes you live
Keeps on livings
Oriental kaboom
Religious diamonds
Walking on Waters
Disowning a sons and daughters
Man-made religions
Wrongly made decisions
Keeps on livings
Yes you keep on giving
While you keep on living
3/21/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
Shavous, True to Us
Rosh Hashanah of Fruits,
Literally, When Tree Fruit Blossoms,
Figuratively, Free Do-It Creativitus,
Earth was Created for Man's,
Improvement by Applicus,
Of Torah Chiddush Wisdoms!
1st 2,000 Years were Barren "Tohu"-ous,
Post Har Sinai, Inventous Peoples' Brainstorms,
Thus, Mortals, Sans Angels, Torah "Safeguardous",
Since Only Man Could Mind Contradictions,
Possible True Welfare, Wedding Any Multiple Versus,
Rambam's "Shalom Emes": Torah in Stark Distinction,
To Other Beliefs' Messages to Us,
To Wit, Feelings Define Right Action,
By Contrast to Absolute "True or Falsous",
Over & Over, the "Nachas", Cunning Deception,
Pulling the Wool Over the Righteous!
Shavous, also Rosh Hashanah of Learning,
Judgment on Next Year's Acquiring Torah,
Thus, Instead of Flailing, Earning,
Internalizing in that We "Soar-ah",
Satisfying Wings Earnest Yearning,
By Disowning Olam HaZeh Mesorah,
Of Narashkeit Replaced by The Discerning,
Taryag Sensitivities, the Infinite Aura,
Held Back Since Creation's Beginning,
Antidote to Amelek, A "What Ails Cure-a",
Elevating Our Commitment is like Lightning,
Flash Flaming a Gourmet Flambé Endura!
Catching snowflakes on the tip of my tongue.
Fleeting memories of when I was young
Tubing down rivers, fishing for bass
Going to drive-ins with some lovely lass.
They all swirl about me, some more and some less.
Each one of them part of my lost youthfulness.
And now that I’m older, new memories I’ll make
But not at the expense of the ones I’d forsake.
Disowning the future to be once again young
And keep catching snowflakes on the tip of my tongue
NEVER LET ME GO
Joint journey juncture juxtaposed.
Pondered, planned, promised to pursue in peace and patience.
Incidentally if I infatuate or induce indifference,
No negative notion: Neither ‘No’ nor ‘Nope’.
Once I lost lavender love and now shining sparkling like cynosure.
My ardent ardour, amour in glamour now to glitter.
Value our valiant venture vanquishing vanity and variance.
Luminous love lightens laden life not to lose liking.
Allure, attract, admire me to adore you.
Darling! Don’t deviate or distract disowning me.
Never let me go but to glow gorgeous glistening in glory.
Let your firm faith flow flashing fervid fervent flame.
03/31/19
Fourth place
'Pick up a Title' Vol 3. Alliteration Contest by Edward Ibeh
' My Lost and Found Love'
Contest by JCB Brul
Money…
an ungrateful heir
Disowning all memory
—with your ashes still warm
(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2016)
I am 58
I was forced to three wives
That always feed on hate.
My offspring are millions of lives
Only united in sharing my cakes.
I am 58
I can't feed my children at my age
No, their elected elders won't let me to
Despite the plenty, they are left with little.
I am 58
Once a pride now a disgrace
Greed of few turn my honour to shame
Oh, my offsprings are disowning me everyday
From their quest for greener pastures, they return to me in chains.
I am 58
Every first of October they gather to celebrate me
Then abandon my dirts to beautify my competitors'
At my age, I am still a dumping ground; a land of generators.
Money…
an ungrateful heir
Disowning all memory
—with your ashes still warm
(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2016)
Poetry Reading in Oslo
Never had the lack of talent exhibited itself in so many poets.
I`m referring to a poetry fest in Oslo- years ago- for whom
Norwegian was not their first language.
On a wooden table, booklets of third- rate poetry trying to
look invisible disowning the poet`s feeble effort to make
words sing. The poetry reading was disrupted the readers
a military band next door a blessing for the listeners of
trite words of love. Among the naïve public, women looking
for sex with young poets thinking it was romantic.
What a moth- eaten group of poets assembled in this cold and
indifferent land, hope is when they came home sat down and
through hard work gave birth to poetry.
It returns to haunt,
the dilemma, of disowning
the old version of truth;
when I was searching the parallelism
for the sake of otherness.
The unreturning melancholia,
brings the surreal intruder,
I did not want to entertain.
The insane activity of heart
wants a sin uncommitted.
The flirt eyes like a tulip
between your fingers,
unrolling the tender petals.
Night throws the salt on the moon.
There were no tears.
Satish Verma
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