Somewhere between the god and demon rift
I staggered on the edge of reason’s drift
As silence fell upon a sightless soul
I sat within a darkness none should know
Had I not shared my sandwich with a child
Held the trembling hands of those beguiled
By the preachers and the poachers Ponzi schemes
As tears fell on the embers of their dreams
Now echoless the empty chambers cringe
Soft organs overwhelmed by endless sins
That dance within the shadow of life’s needs
To fill its vacancy with ancient creeds
The preacher a mystery weaving fraud
That serves a lost and needy demon god
I have grown weary of the truth
Blighted soothsayer soliloquies
Shouted from hand-made signs
Railing against self-made silence
Shattered beliefs drowning
In doubt’s echoless dungeon
Stained glass demons
Muted by mindless dust
Leaded beauty denied
Untarnished expression
An old woman waits on the corner
Knowing she may go hungry today
Rats scurry in the alleys
Knowing that they won’t
Mystique mist shrouds the penultimate path
to the future, fading away in obscurity.
In twilight hour the sunset swansong resonates
the echoless tune of forlorn somber life,
silhouetted against the faint skyline of longing.
The threads of turmoil weave
the blue motif with sadness mold
in craving satiation, riding the sensuous storm
to the blank mindscape of frustrated desire,
once embedding the fervent fascination for repletion.
The shards of splintered hope adrift on buoyant flow
of cascading memories of the lively times
bring back the flavor of the old spices of life.
The remnant vibe of rejuvenation returns
within the sanguinity sphere of listless life.
her words cascade with spell in the strings of harp…echoless melody
Who would lend their essence to such words
Uncrumple them ‘midst fading sense of truth
Sharpen dull edgeless rusting swords.
Shouted once from blood stained creaking boards
Muttered by those grown “long in the tooth”
Who would lend their essence to such words
Whisper calls from echoless fjords
Spur the interest of our failing youth
Sharpen dull edgeless rusting swords
Challenge them to run - not from - but toward
A passion that would brand them as uncouth
Who would lend their essence to such words
Reweave them as a fire, incite the hoards
Nurture the subtleties taking root
Sharpen dull edgeless rusting swords
Re-sound the growing call of freedom’s chords
Deny the tyrants reign of spurs and boots
Who would lend their essence to such words
Sharpen dull edgeless rusting swords.
©2/26/2022
AN ORIGINAL VILLANELLE CONTEST
Sponsor – L Milton Hankins
For teaching me of unknown paths
For hinting to me of fogs at feet
For reminding me of sunrise tea
For showing me both ink stain and light rain
For simply savoring the simple life
For illustrating the service of the eremite
For singing to paulownia blossoms
For dancing with loneliness
For sculpting sorrow and joy
For nights in caves
For ragged cloths pulled tight against
the biting, bitter frosts
For wondering at tiger tracks
and losing foods to monkey packs
For hunger days
and thirst nights.
For solace found in the brethren-free,
high mountain, echoless and grand...Lonely...
For smiling to passing clouds
For bowing to bent bamboo
For conversing with berries
For chorusing with birds
For sitting at the feet of pebbles
For asking deep of puddles
For taking advice of flocks,
both goats and geese. (And gnats, as well.)
For taking as their audience
the empty Valley
the midnight Sun
the empty bowl
and the passing breeze
I wish to not ever visit
each and every hermit.
Not ever.
Not ever.
Forever.
No, never.
Sown by beings courageous
The seeds of unsayables
Streak across landscapes echoless,
Vast and conscious of our mindsets,
To sprout home a shift paradigm
That gives insights to the sightless, quake not,
And voices to the mute.
Endless Winter
As coldness crept into me
I withdrew
a gray-dim world welcoming
frozen youth
childhood’s icy death
leafless limbs
clawing a fractured wall
crystal tears
shattering an echoless silence
numbness
seizing the soul
anger
howling at the core
of an endless
winter.
©11/18/2017
submitted to – MY Winter – Poetry Contest
Finding Forgiveness
Can you forgive my humble home?
A cardboard box my diamond dome
Can you forgive my scanty clothes?
The least that I worry of my woes
Can you forgive my crooked smile?
The frigid air a thermostatic trial
Can you forgive my lack of food?
Your leftover meals I have chewed
Can you forgive my hungry heart?
A life brand new I’m hoping to start
Can you forgive my tapering tears?
There’s little left after all these years
Can you forgive a saddened soul?
A love lost in an empty echoless hole
Can you forgive my losing of will?
A shattered stain of a splitting spill
Can you forgive my only existence?
For the Lord has in his holy presence.
Nov.06.2017
Healing power of forgiveness
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
Hardened Thoughts
To those who tell me what I can and can’t
I have no words to sway their mindless curse
nor would they listen should my voice unveil
the emptiness of lips echoless purse,
aspiring to restrain youths sudden joy
assuage depleted chests with stolen gold
sit idly in the chair of hardened thoughts
unable to release the chains of old.
In their hearts lie the tyrants of I can’t
fearful beggars that kneel at open gates
imprisoning the reason of the free
within the total blindness of the fates.
Unable to admit just how they fell
enraptured by this mindless state of hell.
3/5/2016
Submitted to Rob Cormack's "Screwed" contest
I tell myself I do it for the birds.
They gather together
around flameless fires
feeding on warmth’s memory,
chattering amid the blowing leaves,
feathers puffed against the cold.
Their beauty undimmed by the
stark dark and light of barrenness
their songs no less beautiful
in the echoless emptiness,
their presence – undiminished.
Quietly, I leave a gift,
mixed seed to welcome all
sustenance to those who share
a loneliness in winter,
a scarcity of caring
the fading heat of flameless fires.
I tell myself I do it for the birds.
10/18/2015
submitted to – For the Birds – poetry contest
sponsor – Anthony Slausen
Solitude, silence
Space, limitless, timeless
There is no echo
They really don't know me.
My existence doesn't affect them.
Unseen on the crowded streets.
Just another passing breeze.
A name not even carelessly whispered.
Just another number.
I'm falling through the cracks.
An echoless scream resounds in my ears.
And so it goes for years and years.
The same unvisited house.
Never noticed at the end of the street.
Where curtains of iron protect;
From intruders who never come.
The unpainted mailbox,cocooned in cobwebs.
Houses the loveletters yet to be sent.
Near the unmarked grave;
In a lonely plot embedded in weeds.
Where the flowers are invisible just like me.
CAMPFIRE
I thirst to taste your solid wood stare
I see you and no one else
Nestling under the stars
Hungry for each others ears
Chasing every comet across the sky
Fierce when it comes to standing tall
Desires releas screams from the mundane night
Running naked throughout the world
Firewood burning the depth of our soul
Dancing in a path we put mortals to shame
A swarm of gray shade arousing the night
Secret moans before, morning dew hit sunrise
Prowling in circles
Feeling each others instinctive curiosity
Surrender to the ashes of our hide
Passion lost within a dream-catchers web.
A pack of thieves we long to be
Weaving into an echoless growl
No one dares to separate the pack we create
A stare of solid wood I hunger to taste.
Night after night, IN THE MOOD ~always
Reaching through the blackness
Trying to find something to hold
When all I could feel
Was the harsh damp cold
Desperately trying to block out
The emotions that poison my soul
I lay slowly suffocating
Beneath the rubble of my broken dreams
As silent tears spill from my eyes
Mouthing hollow prayers with Vodka soaked lips
This echoless silence is driving me insane
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