Left To Wander
Confusion’s underbelly
frustration’s embryo
Orphaned seeds of black and white
spread where nothing grows
Choices wander celibate
new pregnancy unfound
Up or down left to right
— dubiety impounds
(The New Room: February, 2024)
Incognito
Thinking the worst
of people
life has cast a pall
To cover my
intentions
— and camouflage the fall
(Dreamsdleep: February, 2024)
Warring Words
Poets
are the bravest
writers …
you know who you are
Scattered
among
the Johnny Come Latelys
battered up and scarred
Each word
proffered
born of pain
raised in discontent
Dying once
to live again
unwilling
— to relent
(Dreamsleep: February, 2024)
Winning
First and foremost
success is an
entrepreneurial venture
— not a management exercise
(To Dartmouth Students: January, 2012)
Dear heart,
Please take a break
I know this feeling, I have had this feeling before
It soothes at first, beguiling flings
Which shines, too
Sometimes brighter than goddess Theia
I know the comforts, the placidity it yields
And the euphoria!
Dear soul,
Stop the inner monologues
I know them, I have heard them before
With their potent, clean blade of satires
They chop pathos into cruelty, dubiety into actions
Listen to how it urges me into a chance, now or never!
Volition, I can hear the whispers. Volitions!
Dear mind,
Avoid these thoughts
I remember them, they’ve run here before
Scattered into ways of no pattern
Tearing asunder the accords binding the soul and mind
Here, they boast of the utility they bequeath me
Chary, here, I must be, and slow I must tread
Forasmuch I owe the better of me to them
But hey! Avoid these ones regardless.
Dear self,
Collect these fragments and mend them back
For you’ve lost yourself, broken and scattered
Blend symphony from these discords
And for once let you speak as you, dear self!
It's the apocalypse of the antipoetic,
some are apoplectic, instead of apologetic,
this is no diplomatic 'dead poet's society',
but the anxiety results in notoriety,
increasing dubiety for word weaving variety.
The grammar police pursue like the four horsemen,
trying to silence my poetic garden's endorphins.
Pouring petrol upon my enchanted petals,
burning the rain, before sweet petrichor settles,
so onyx skies, thundering cries and lullabies,
slay my sentiments like premature butterflies.
Where is my dark angel friend to protect my quill,
before I double down on poetic forms against free will.
When creativity is silenced it's a suicide of speech,
a hypocritical rhetoric is not what hallowed halls teach.
Wizardry of words have no hoodoo or voodoo on your muse,
write about love's labyrinth, rage or life in a way you choose.
Beauty of poetry lies in the eye of the beholder,
poems that merge in harmony bring the rat race closer.
Outside the winds of illiteracy, words want to be free,
to release ink, until your heart's last stand - that's poetry!
Nicorates warned me about you
not so much with words
more in dubiety,
a clairaudient hesitation
imagine an experienced woodworm
widely travelled and well read
making peace with a cluttered desk top
within which it now dwells
keeping it right, advised
that's kind of it, really
suffice to say, Nicorates is rarely wrong
I should've predicted the dilemma right from the start.
When you parked your car, sideways, across my heart.
Too far gone to see, too emotionally invested to care.
A gradoise illusion to your thousand yard stare.
Feelings of belonging whilst rejoicing in laughter.
My mind simply concocting a happily ever after.
The kick from your beauty internally ingrained.
Any fears and dubiety subsequently waned.
The flame burns alight but old scars remember.
What once shone so bright is now ash and ember.
Dreams of connection shot the nest and flew.
The circle has no end, producing suffering anew.
Validation and consent to toy with my emotions.
Like a child blowing bubbles or a witch making potions.
Conceding I play no part in the life that you chose.
I stare to the sea, that's why they call it the blues.
A wave washes over me, in a figurative way.
As I replay the conversation had on that last day.
Like a beautiful serpent, you hissed 'you should've been flattered'.
As you turned. Walked away. My love story shattered.
Chakra midst the forehead; way to spiritual empire;
Symbol of complete consciousness and ethical umpire;
Disposition of enlightenment; corporeal world;
Integral unity; angelic wisdom within furled...!
Myths speak of Lord Shiva comprehending through his third eye;
He could annul ignorance; see yonder limits of sky;
The mystical clairvoyance is on; inner sight glazes;
Purple splendor like Amethyst; wisdom within blazes...!
Single-mindedness, precision, inspiration, insight,
Unblinking third eye is continually glowing light;
Perceiving the world sacredly; connecting to cosmos;
Within ever-shining divinity it does engross...!
Abolishing dubiety, vagueness and skepticism,
Uprooting adverse weeds of purposelessness and pessimism;
Gives coherence, assiduousness, spontaneity,
Leads to endless bliss; merging with eternal deity...!
05 July 2022
You bear the shy marvel and then***wreak the scanty dubiety.
I treasured You in my soul
And..
Will treasure You in my heart:
making you my part..
continuously without a lapse,
slaying off the gaps
without any dubiety,
without an end,
forever you will blend
with my sweet delicate memories..
In my heart beat I will endlessly keep
chanting your name,
forever being same,
enjoying your charm,
doing no harm
only with love, care and
overwhelming pleasure.
3-7-2020
First place in the Contest:-)
Note: STRAND COMPLETELY NEW(4), any form,
any theme Poetry Contest
Sponsor:Brian Strand.
To fear God is to not laugh at his creation
To not bluff about the treasures of goodness
To fear God is to be helpful to the abandoned
To feed our soul through sharing and forgiveness
To fear God is to know he hears every intention
To always say what we mean and unthink ill-will
To fear God is to render goodwill out of conviction
To always do unto others at no price but free will
To fear God is to see the whole world in his hand
To fear God is not to tremble to the storms and thunder
To fear God is to know the universe bows at his command
To fear God is to trust in a faintly whispered prayer
To fear God is to guard his existence from dubiety
To borrow the generosity of his earth and to owe him our love
To see the limitless of the universe as a just fraction of his deity
To be aware of no other form of life than one from above
J-ust leave things up to the Almighty,
I-mpossible shall be made for your sake;
M-ountain and hill can be moved,
E-ven desert will turn into
L-ake.
A-im to leave things up to the Almighty,
S-ervants of God are prayerful;
T-earful supplication is heard,
R-emain strong, firm, and faithful.
O-pen your heart to God's mercy,
L-etting Him stop the bleeding;
A-llow Him to heal the wound,
V-ile weather turns into blessing.
I-n the world of incertitude, skepticism, doubt, and dubiety;
O-n January thirtieth Tuesday, leave things up to the Almighty.
T H E T R I C K S T E R
i've been an old scientist
for too many unmeaning deaths
had my weekly date with
an ocean of razor-waves
called
anxiety |
euphony if you get so far
C O M P L E T E
dubiety
//call my maker subroutine
StartExoComlinkCosmos();
... click. "Hello my Maker."
classical polylogs
and cigarettes
i fed you before the stars
and heavens // inside my mind
making new worlds \\
& to climb out of the pits
of our despaired hopes /monster
under the hair -dare|Already kissed
T H E T R I C K S T E R
:: 12-01-2016 ::
Red
Lips
Painted
In the round
Mirror was the last
Farewell to the love loyalty
Betrayal as a stab in the back compared with a
Black hole that sweeps you to an unknown place covered with penumbra and dubiety
Fictional
Nayda Ivette
3-21-2016
Don’t know how it started, or how it ends
I’m older now then I will be then; when
I was scribing with quill, candle and scroll
A mind of dubiety, road full of holes
A wanderlust dream, of apples true taste
A destined arrival, from earth to space
Learning my place around the bend
My limbs sinking in the chair akin
To the rustic oak desk, branded by toil
My hands numbing, gears lacking oil
Watching raindrops kiss the window
A top hatted, hunched mans figure descends
He says with a grin, I’ll show you how
To properly command your pen
I pinch myself over and over again
Thinking I’ll wake next moments blink
I said sir, let me sip that ink you drink
Dine from the flowery plate you ascend
With glib he said, the drink is to think
Outside of a realm we transcend
The ink is verve that the heart kindly lends
To our inspired souls speaking
To minds boundless pen
I blink and he vanished
A note left to me holds words I brandish
“Calm eagles yield more then the busiest wren.”
O’ faith, Do you reside in tattered pages?
Do you dwell in wretched thoughts?
A pervading pillar to lean our hearts
Vanishing when engaged eyes turn
Obliterated by laughs and gambol
A ghost under blankets of distraction
Carried by the winds fickle temper
Storing you in the nooks of bleakness
Rising when pain demands answers
A friend of solace for lonely souls
Hope for roots stricken by privation
End to the voyage of tired seekers
Pillow to rest their dubiety in peace
O’ faith, exercising your confidence
Is testing when bitter reality bites
The graves magnitude loom over us
Taking a blinded leap seems foolish
Knowing one day I’ll wash upon shore
O’ faith, diversions shall triumph
Until you have become time's fool
Only then we find fruits bore or woes
Until then my idle condition wanders
As your essence dawns in each breath.
A soul cries yet nobody hears him
They say he has neither a head nor limbs
But he has a soul and a spirit
Undesirable is the soul to be taken from the womb
A soul cries yet nobody hears him
His voice is so mild that no one can hear him
He’s damned for a crime he didn’t commit
No supplication and inspiration to share
A soul still cries yet nobody hears him
He has neither words nor songs to hymn
He’s languishing from a lashing whip
A victim to hatred, dubiety and immorality
A soul cries yet nobody seems to care
He pleas for his precious life to be spared
Yet with a mild voice no one will give an ear
With despair he cries and screams into the night
A soul cries yet this girl has turned a deaf ear
A voice tells her “eliminate him from here”
But a master fate will sometimes have it to be
The Dame escorted him six feet underground
The Poet Preacher © 2014
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