In toiling times
the resilient state
of self-discipline
connects conscience
with perennial precept
in the algorithm of being
with ego abandoned
the meaning of life
measured emotionally
with essence quotient
of inspiring insight
defines the transcendence
of enigmatic existence
harmoniously enshrined
within the latent
human distillate.
Buoyant beyond
the storm of strife
convivial calmness
flows flawless
with composed current
of sensuous sentiment
submerging surge
of lavish love
and
embalming empathy
spread suffused
with optimistic opulence
on restored shore
of serene soul
unwavering mind
trussed secured
with scrupulous roots
of sanctified psyche
the thwarting thrust
of negative sensitivity
fades in sanguine air
blows away
the base instincts
in the wisdom wind
of ethical acuity.
With moral fiber
of positive passion
consciously creative
innovative mind
weaves the tapestry
of timeless acumen
embedded enmeshed
within motionless motif
of inner bliss
in the frame
of placating prudence
the art of living
manifests magnificently
the masterpiece.
Sprawling aspiration
effervescent incandescence
spreads psychic plasma
of primal spectrum
painting passion
on the silken sky
the configured
fascinated facsimile
of mental panorama
suffused with chromatic
sublime sensitivity
of exuberant ecstasy
blooming in
seraphic color blast
of floral spring
Parched pieces
draped by distress dust
of cinnamon ground
heart desiccates
to the core
auburn anguish
pervading passive
creeps craftily
in the wilted veins
of the fallen leaves
fragile essence
rustles restive
with emerald tune
of serenading sanguinity
Emotive eyes weep
concealed tears
in torment torrent
fill the cauldron
of pent up pathos
forlorn life’s
desolate distillate
designs crystalline
verdance shining
in the jade thicket
on the eroded banks
of awareness
as symphonic cadence
of fervent zephyr
drifting with sonata
of fleeting fervor
from yonder plateau
of yearning
pulsates timeless
with waves of rhapsody
in the bay of bliss
glides with the melody
of harmonic heart
with the ripples
of lilac lagoon
The
after-life
could be just a flicker of light
a spec of our former selves,,,
lost firefly souls drifting
about the periphery of nothingness...
On a constant quest for their nests of flesh
chasing the vapour of memories,
Until the final speck of light becomes
a speck of darkness (bug on a windshield).
The tapestry of dark matter...
part of a big puff of
nothingness..
the afterlife could be an emerging of the soul
from its chrysalis of flesh
a gilded distillate of their worldly goodness
drifting down into an infinite pond of bliss
called,God's heart...
O Grappa, goddess dregs of corpus grapes,
Distillate "digsetivo", whole must press,
Fond draught that spirits my carnal escape
From temperate gods, religions of less.
Your cruel "corretto" beguiled my hand
That morning to revel’s most fowl besmirch;
To suffer more grapes, you told me your plan
And the monks found me "morto" in church.
Turns out your proof laid me far less than quick
On the moors now banished to soiled quaffs,
Where claims I vanished in a pomace thick
Pisses my usurers quite rightly off.
Ah…to steep in more of her woody shoots
I do whilst eschewing the bastard brutes.
Rose Gold (Simple Distillate)
A little alchemy for my cutie.
Add three parts gold, no less for my beauty.
One part copper and a pinch of silver,
Mix it up for a rose-colored shimmer.
Copper for connections, copper for wire.
Symbol of Venus, goddess of desire.
Mother of Cupid; both heart’s defenders.
Warmth and closeness for secret surrenders.
Silver like moon dust sprinkled in the pot.
Can’t say too much more; we don’t need a lot.
On to the shiny stuff; on to the gold.
Something we all have had a chance to hold.
But for my love we can’t just through it in.
Time must perfect and what a time it’s been.
The true Alchemist blessed me with a wife.
Who has blessed me with such wonderful life.
So all this trouble to melt down these things.
Can not wait to see what the future brings.
double trouble on the boil
earth bowels ooze devils oil
ancient rock and occult blood
darkest liquor thick as mud
cauldron charged to overflow
fire flare and charcoal glow
spirits rising from turmoil
circulate alembic coil
thus set free an evil spell
toxic breath creating hell
double trouble on the boil
earth bowels ooze devils oil
fuming venom distillate
burn in air and dissipate
poison potions pour and spill
flora fauna for the kill
this alchemy reaching high
venting evil to the sky
ancient carbon haunting air
greenhouse gases everywhere
double trouble on the boil
earth bowels ooze devils oil
global warming melting ice
species rendered sacrifice
many mammals facing hell
from this reckless evil spell
without caution carbon spent
now new magic man invent
bury deep then sin be gone
down in devils dark dungeon
tenfold trouble on the boil
evil born of fossil oil
awaken
chatter
distillate
spread out
charm
guess
welcome
host
bluff
forage
then
sidewise
retreat
In my silent soul I distillate in this lonely night , in this night as sun light sets on high the night remains . Light can't worm my souls cold night . The night brings fright as fear delights in this never ending night , in it's might , otter my souls might . Might is limited , right is forever . Light is might , dark is weak . Hope is unsure , faith is ensured . Right is men's might , light is men's spear that Peirce's the night . Faith is men's sight . In my night dawns the light .
I know that life brews moments up
As robust as belief,
That sweet hope in a lasting cup
Dilutes distillate grief.
I know no more of death than you,
But taste such bitter blends
As days that cloud to settled view
Of twilights streaked with friends.
Beakers ready, gentlemen,
titration calibrated to the critical degree;
unveil the poetry distilled
until reagents strike at all the barriers
that we erect in love, in agony,
in little niches, shadowy within the walls
along the course to home.
The night is warm and lovely,
radiance too harsh for summer's mists;
encomium may palliate the grave
yet leave it heaving with the frosts of truth.
May I not listen to the night?
May I not revel in its sweetness?
There is the lover with a heart congealed;
I would not see the distillate.
I could not care, for I am moved
not by nuance but by the lumbering
advance, the shameless ploy
of glorious beasts too wise
to manifest themselves within
that paradise of art I face,
that soft chagrin emerging, ghostlike,
from around my pen.
~