Intelligent non-attachment
acknowledges the beauty
in this relentless fabulous
fragile fleeting flow of life.
Seek by commitment
the many gifts from heaven,
concealed in the recesses
of everyone's being.
Drink only from the cup
of perpetual durance virtuous pleasure,
to celebrate every time you decide
to make brighter your already bright light.
A loss left my heart ripped
A memory still makes my heart skip
I wonder what still holds it together
Pounding on and on in a chain of pain
My heart is empty but heavy
For not belonging
For always longing
It holds on to someone
Someone far away and done
It’s always aware of its own pain
Always somewhere my mind can’t reign
I sink between heartbeats
To a place with nothing
With a heavy load of nothing
And the throbs are counting to nothing
I robbed myself for nothing
I need a graft
A new heart to escape this durance
Healing not coming with endurance
Time measured by pulse
A heart has its own path of life
Sometimes the body and mind can’t find
It wounds and healing is of a different kind
But how do I stop the bleeding?
And how does a heart bleed?
A prison of the mind
Replete with soul decay
Fists flying fervently
To the beat of a toxic refrain
06/24/2019
The Inkling
Arbitrium Divisa 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Gregory Barden
Form: Tanka
Passion for what still exists
Phonon of ones fists
Durance of eclectic hours
Fire on the hell gone towers
Phenomenon is.
Formality for passion
Lacks it's existence
For it's agnostic purpose
Keeps as moving in a sense
keeps as running fast.
Now we are talking about a synthesis
Signifying why all the resulting heat
Actually its how we make sense to all this
Not talking about the fire they burned at feet
For his true imminence does no wickedness
His light shines complete while darkness retreats
What will 's shall be, always will this be
That is the nature of existence
a chemical reaction insistence
Passion for what still exists
Phonon of ones fists
Durance of eclectic hours
Fire on the hell gone towers
Phenomenon is.
Formality for passion
Lacks it's existence
For it's agnostic purpose
Keeps as moving in a sense-
keeps as running fast.
For contest.
In form of Tanka. Written about
New Age Aquarius.
Written by Lana Judnic.
This song comes from some place
And its dancers, with hips up
Are going to the same place
And this song does not stop
Wither comes this song they dance
No one knows
Thither goes the sum who dance
Hope God knows
It is, the siren song
Finely tuned from some sweet lore
It is, the siren song
Whose dance is but a sweet chore
So enchanting is this song
That even they who cannot dance
Can be heard singing along
Joining the band at any chance
While the wind blows them, wildly on
And they heed no call on this trip
To God’s city; Nay to Babylon
For the song has hard its grip
Vices veneered as virtues
Prettified in bird suits
To conceal the grave grues
On its convoluted routes
Don’t dance, I say do not dance
Albeit that it allures
For thereto, lies dire durance
Lavished with ligatures
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