Neon’s radioactive glow in a window,
offers the cheap promise of pleasure.
Like a hypnotic, fluorescent serpent,
It flashes, blinks and winks - “Welcome”
It fairly slithers on rain-slicked boulevards,
it warms like moonlight on cold unfriendly nights,
It signals cool, ready fun in the summertime.
We dress our vices in silky, pastel colors,
gamblers choices of Disney flavored whiskies.
It’s the soft, velvet glove that hides brass knuckles,
oh, you’ll feel those bruises in the morning.
The world’s a dark alleyway with an electric blush,
whose color flatters the lonely, desperate,
and makes sin look like something you could fall for.
Neon is perfume for the optical senses.
In that light, everything seems possible.
Isn’t that girl smiling at you? You see,
beauty is easier to trust than the truth.
Neon imperviously reflects off regrets,
and glitters brightest on broken dreams.
Of course daylight is harsh, but honest.
Didn’t we come in here to escape it?
.
.
Songs for this:
The Ballad of Mac the Knife by Sting & Dominic Muldowney
Any Old Thing by Swing Republic
On Memorial of St. Dominic
We remember that man who sought to teach the truth in service to Father Christ
The Master Teacher
Every age has its errors
As Dominic encountered with Albigensian heresy over 800 years ago
In our time
We are likewise called to proclaim the truth both clarity
Charity
No matter our state in life Eternal God calls us to serve within our own unique capacities
Circumstances
Talents
The closer we grow to the Lord
The more dispenses the grace to persevere in holiness
Just as Saint Dominic followed Eternal God piously to lead the wayward to repentance
So
Too
Should we look inwardly and then outwardly to embrace the Gospel
Heavenly Eternal Father
Our world is full of confusion
Dissent from the truth
As we seek to live Your holy will
May we look the example of Saint Dominic
Who only spoke to You
About You
We pray this in Father Christ’ holy Name
Justin McClain, O.P.
Turned to Poetry: Jacqueline R. Mendoza
Poetry Form: Free Verse/Narrative
Date turned to Poetry: 8032024
Time turned to Poetry: 9:18pm
(The UK Queen's Platinum Jubilee was in June 2022)
You're at Trooping the Colour now, Dominic.
Were we not friends when we were schoolboys?
You look so smart now, Dominic, guardsman,
wrapped in the shining redness of that costume
under your tall, beautiful bearskin cap.
Recall that friendship, Dominic,
those distant days at school?
I saw your show on stage -
those school plays, musicals, but mainly ballet.
Such standards, almost worthy of a jubilee.
And here you are on our TV.
A performance, Dominic, seen by our Queen,
and millions, oh millions, of viewers.
You're at that Platinum Jubilee,
a concert full of marching men,
a march that is a parade,
a parade that is a ballet -
performing people, of course.
Would you wish to know me, Dominic,
now you're in your very posh world?
(June 2022)
(You may wish to see also "Obsequies for a Queen" of September 2022 and "Coronation for a King" of May 2003)
For Dominic, love at first sight was narcotic, it made him quixotic
Initially he was all erotic, but at the end, was kicked out as neurotic
Your Funniest Couplet Ever Poetry Contest
Sponsor- L Milton Hankins
When Bojo was combing his hair
Dominic Cummings was not there
In spite of the law
Cummings drove to see Ma
For Cummings no goings despair
J-oyful
A-uthor
N-icely
D-esigns
O-ne
M-essage
I-n
N-ame
I-deally
C-reating
M-use
A-bout
R-ighteous
I-dea's
N-obility
A-nd
S-ublimity
Topic: Birthday of Jan Dominic Marinas (July 30)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
D-o
O-bey
M-aker's
I-nstruction
N-icely
I-nside
C-hurch
L-etting
A-lmighty's
R-ules
A-dminister
Topic: Birthday of Dominic Lara (February 18)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
J-ust
A-fter
N-ighttime
D-awn
O-pens
M-orn
I-n
N-ewness
I-solating
C-hilling
M-ist
A-s
R-ay
I-s
N-icely
A-bating
S-hadow
Topic: Birthday of Jan Dominic Marinas (July 30)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Kofi Amed & Dominic Amozimi
Tonal shaded selfies behind open mural walls
We were but performers in art galleried halls
Between submissive embrace and crazy calls.
We danced our way into realms of falling roses.
On sullen floors of marble and polished wood
Drenched In ambivert scents of wild orchids
Hands eloped in laughter under a yellow moon
Where smiles were unending and unrestrained
Cocooned in the warmth of your soft embrace
Amid gazes that stir our souls like boiling soup
So hot, it burns and by us tastes all beautiful
And has chained us from our souls to our visibles
Two were burnt. One product; love most enviable
One spark of fire had burnt up two people
And burnt them up like Moses’ burning bush.
No sword could hurt us when we’re nested in embrace
Nor could the swordsman sever us that have been chained
Between our arms we hold each other’s safest place.
The years wears on under star canvassed skies
And slowly I fade into you and you into me
For our love is like fine wine It only gets better and better with time !
We have dear Grandsons one, two,three,
Now Dominic's off to the Learning Academy.
Luke's in the lead, with 3 years at Swansea U,
Scott's completed his course in Music too.
So Dominic has joined the happy band at last,
His days as a babe have officially passed.
Into his brand new uniform just to show,
He's a big lad and off to school you know.
We have watched him as he played with toys,
He has learning abilities to bring his Mum joy.
All three are getting education for future years
We hope that all three will surpass their peers.
To get themselves set in their chosen careers.
We pray for our Grandsons, one,two,three,
That they obtain honors that people will see,
They're good enough to employ in the industry.
In the years to come may they all stand tall,
Way to Go Guys. Well Done, We Love you All.
© Dave Timperley 07 September 2016
A Cognitive Dissonance
We love the blossoms beauty
We ask only for the beauty to grow.
Yet we war and destroy the blossoms
More surely than the snow.
We war and claim to love the earth
We war and poison the dirt
That produces the withered blossom
That produces the wilted blossom
We listen to the music to lighten our hearts
Then we go to war and destroy our ears
So we can n o longer hear the music start
Wee war forever and ever for years
Dominic James Wiebersch.
Been chatting to our Grandson
Dominic James Owen by name.
He comes over to see us he's wonderful to see
We celebrate his birthdays, the last one he was three.
Have you ever watched a racing car
Whizzing by at breakneck speed?
Have you ever tried to catch a whirlwind?
I doubt that you'd succeed.
Have you ever seen a lightning flash?
Or a hummingbirds wing in flight?
Well this describes our grandson,
before he beds down for the night.
he's a tiring hug-able bundle of fun,
That's Dominic James our grandson.
© Dave Timperley February 2015
My God is my rock.
He is my constant, my heart, my undeniable truth.
As I draw near to Him He fills me with unbreakable faith and everlasting peace.
His grace knows no boundaries and can not be earned.
His infinite wisdom can not be bought, but is generously imparted whenever I ask.
I will continue to be grateful for every breath of life He gives me.
His brilliant light is a beacon for my life path and will continue to lead me through all my peaks and valleys.
I pray to love carelessly with His love, and that it will speak loudly and clearly, even without a single word.
He gives me hope when there is nothing to hope for.
His patience I will always be amazed by.
I pray all the fruits of His Spirit will continue to grow in me with every breath I take.
Amen.
Dominic Marchio
Once there was a man called Dominic, the sole experience!
His wisdom is not by education, by sole experience!
“Grudge, the mighty driving force-
is good in the world of evil”-mighty force!
Bloody no comic is wise by sole experience !
I am one hypocrite, imperfectly
I am all edges, no single curve
So rough all around, so badly wrong.
I like the positive, never to do
I say all that I should, none ever true
I step on every toe, I am the brute!
I am one evil mind, alas I am
I scheme all that I can, sleek, evil plans
What is the need? In here, no good is found.
But I’m sorry, each time I break the line
In tears and anger, every blessed time
And I despise at once the shameful crime
Would it ever change anything inside?
If after death one’s corpse would start to cry,
Could it draw any grace close, right beside?
I could but scrape my knees to beg for hope
I beg just for grace, not karats of gold.
I beg each time that my prayer would hold.
One hypocrite; imperfect, always would cry
Would beg for mercy, would forever try,
Though I be called a fool, and termed “unwise”.
Dominic A. Ami 03/04/2013
I am one hypocrite.
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