Tony's
enclave was
saved from
construction
by an
elf-select-
ed goop
of tainted heavenly heads cas-
ing
joints out of time enough to curse
ever
spiteful sets of
Twins born
right on the cusp
of Virgo and a li-
brarian's back-
water
wishing
village.
Sundown creeps,
across adorned amber,
sky whose welkin,
shades volte face,
as evening edges,
into cosmic chakra,
of visual feasts,
orange, pink, purple,
prelude which emblazon,
point of day exodus,
atrophied moon winking,
mystic morph of,
dwindling halo,
to homeward bound,
throngs thirsting,
for redress within,
winter jasmine enclave,
cabal, clique, cluster,
in shrunken retreat,
from dreary toil,
nudge from nightfall,
whose cryptic code,
a dark art patois,
exemplified by,
eastern screech owl,
whose stocky medium,
and varied volume,
that twilight tremolo,
purring incognito,
among other creatures,
wet soil genus,
brisk firefly flash,
in town backyards,
wing rubbing katydid,
tree top rasp,
or amid green bush,
chirpy cricket,
midget burrow dweller,
allow oneself to wallow awhile,
in evening habitat,
in all its allure
Success
is no more emails
Not one
throughout the day
No beeps
and no vibrations
to clutter up
the quay
My sails are up
the winds are fair
distractions
far abeam
No G.P.S.
or radar
To chart
— this sailor’s dream
(Annapolis To Bermuda: August, 2005)
Fool Them Once — Fool Them Twice
Oh Bernie, Bernie
as crooked
thou art
Thy wife
more dishonest
filling up thy cart
A noble pair
thoust do
protest
Within
thy harvest
and monied chest
To hide among
a lost
enclave
With fortunes
promise
most illy made
Behind thy mask
corruption
flames
Thy hoax
to bear
— eternal shame
(The New Room: July, 2026)
As I pose in a natural enclave
I claim freedom I'll not be a slave
an abyss, Earth's in a hole
self love massages my soul
Momentum, let's jin a positive wave
On my deck put pen to paper write verse
Observe shades of green leaves so diverse
a gentle light breeze is blowing
leaves flutter in air always flowing
Trunks to and fro bowing first forward now in reverse
DISEMBODIED GRAPHICS
reminders
of
impermanence
inspired
beleagured
&summoning
apprehension
in
oblivious
symmetry
uncanny
a
dreamlike
affinity
magnetically
formed
within
an
unattributed
enclave
energetic
reminiscent
explosive
coherent
surreptitious
pulsating
captivating
. glistening
prismatic
miniature
unusually
complementing
engulfed
in
a
beguiling
innovation
glowing
vaporously
a
fantastical
whimscal
reverie
transient
understated
with
eccentric
graceful
simplicity
Time and tide they do not wait,
We all have heard it said,
And there are those who seem to view,
The ebb and flow with dread.
They do their best to stave it off,
And live in deep denial,
Trying not to show their age,
Viewing it as a trial;
A tribulation of some sort,
A thing to be avoided;
Forgetting in their quest for youth,
That age can be exploited;
For with age comes experience,
The younger folks don't have,
Things that you have done before,
Is to them enclave;
A thing to them as yet untried,
Is foreign territory.
They'll listen to your wisdom,
And practiced oratory;
For things that to the younger set,
Appear a mystery,
For older folks is just old hat,
And it's just history;
So if we learn to use our age,
Accept it as a friend,
We'll age as does fine wine and so,
Not face a bitter end.
We have to learn to face some facts,
That some things must betide,
For you can run from age My Dear,
But you can never hide.
Cobwebs, invisible in the darkness
Spread in every corner of the cosmos
Ensnared heaven’s butterflies in its mess
Crafted by the black widower with dross
To keep them and drink their life laid across
But Christ’s light of gnosis he brought to save
Shined into every corner of the cave
Showing the cobwebs’ thin and brittle dome
For us to wake up and see our enclave
To break Yaldabaoth’s webs, and return home
Checked by www.howmanysyllables.com>syllable_counter
**************************************************************
Lost
The sun sinks low, the shadows grow,
No moon is out up high,
A chilling breeze begins to blow,
With stars up in the sky;
I wearily wade my way in vain
Across serpentine lanes of a forest,
Speckled with thick thorns and thickets,
But each time tumble at the same spot;
My heart is sore with seams of strains,
I feel lost in the night,
My feet are tinging with deep pains,
No pathway greets my sight.
Most of the trees seem to sneer at me,
Some to snarl like wild woeful winds
Treating the spot as their enclave,
A guarded setting of their own;
A voice soon whispers in my ears,
A voice from inner self:
“Move straight without a grain of fear,
And steer ahead yourself.”
The Problem of Europe.
Christianity is a rising mist I normally do not bother to
think of I dislike all religions as ill omens told fairytales
demanding to be taken seriously.
The worship of Jesus could have been a friendly affair
bewildered vicars talking about peace and thanking
the ladies for the beautiful flowers.
Until one remembers the Bush and Blair two knights
who wedges war against Islam by invading Iraq and
fight a religion all good Christians and Hebrews detest.
So if you thought religious wars were of the past
you’re wrong the western occupiers of Palestine are
but a religious war. Israel is a European enclave.
In Europe, Islam is a strong, demanding alien force
that we must not give in to, but we must
respect their discipline, devotion, and morality.
Should the good people of Europe find I slam a better
and more fulfilling religion than our Christianity, it is
because our culture is spent and insipid.
There’s a lot of heat when all eight
of us suitemates are together.
I might have mentioned it somewhere.
We’re like surround sound,
or eight car alarms going off together,
it’s jabberwocky by an established team.
It can get frantic and frightening
for the uninitiated or inhibited.
Some of us are pretty boy-crazy
and there’s a mix-in of twinkling girl-crazy too.
We’re basey, bugzee, spaceheads and freaks,
yeah, we're the whole emotional spice rack.
“She’s a good person to kill time with,”
is pretty high praise around here
because we have so little free time.
But these are good people to kill time with.
And they’re portable, we travel, we invade,
we’re crazy young women who’ve got it made.
So if you’re coming at us, trying to enter our enclave,
you better be brave or a situational upgrade.
.
.
Songs for this:
No New Friends (feat. Sia, Diplo & Labrinth) by LSD
Lysergic Bliss by of Montreal
Freedom Is Free by Chicano Batman
.
.
slang…
basey = a cool loser, nice but a bit odd, a weirdo with style
bugzee = slightly crazy
spaceheads = people who talk about weird things
.
.
Webster: Jabberwocky = meaningless speech or communication.
Pearl
rapids
steam cascade
haunting canvass
a red dawn smoulder
to prise sluggish eyelids
of zestful bright mood riser
who gulps in rapt awestruck spoonfuls
of mosaic zone enthralled enclave
awash with random sun drenched blue pool plops
Where giddy children cast green hue pebbles
as dulcet birds tweet from gaunt elm twigs
and rainbow trouts skim silver streams
wet grass clumps sag on mud banks
a grey fleck morning haze
that scene shift migrant
a spring usher’s
mint leaf scent
in faint,
gust
Written: December 30th 2024
__________________________
In cosmic ballet, we float and glide,
As shards of data, we are unable to conceal.
In the digital enclave, our echoes seem to bide,
Through tweets and posts, we shall reveal.
Amid the stature of foes, our goals are clear,
With toughness, and drive, we persevere.
Dreadful stars fall; hopeful words appear,
Our voices shout as they stand with our mates.
Our efforts are driven, and our route waits,
Dangers and difficulties endear our crates.
We wept a tear at each stride and held onto our side,
A coach who grasps our path with a plan of zeal.
Power, clear vision, a strong brew, an array of sheer,
Generous souls swap gears, tone seen, we'll endear.
____________________________
Fragmented Verse: Created by Constance la France
Unbelievable, but believe me its true
Astounding science from my crew
Its whats found in whats left to do
Damn right its up to you
Dont worry babe baby Its up to me too
I keep my promises I roll Game Tight
But the world is ablaze with fire
And we’re sure to expire on the fame night
Most famous night of all nights
I heard my homie ask for the anthem of the enclave x3
Oh say Im so ing done with you
Your so in done with me too.
One more step in your waffled out nike checks
Looks like synergy is up next
Looks like there into me, im into them too
Looks like a drama is a brew
Feels like I cant hurt my feels
Cant object to whats really real
Look hear homie you cant knock your own
Ive been listening and trying not to spit
I heard a homie ask for the anthem of the enclave
I heard a homie ask for the anthem of the enclave
Oh say can you see that Im so ing done with you
Your so ing done with me too
Sand and water pour off of my skin
mixing pheromones into the tidal wave
from a spout that drips tanning lotion;
It’s my home I don’t need to check-in
to a hotel in an exclusive enclave;
Sand and water pour off of my skin;
Just one glance at a coastal grin
releases that need to misbehave
from a spout that drips tanning lotion;
Descending the cage to a shark’s fin,
that’s the adrenaline that I crave;
Sand and water pour off of my skin;
Spending time in a seaside cabin,
an aroma of coconut bliss it gave
from a spout that drips tanning lotion;
Carefree bare feet always in fashion
marked by happy footprints they pave;
Sand and water pour off of my skin
from a spout that drips tanning lotion.
So much passes unnoticed,
fails to attract an eye or an ear,
excite the senses enough
to interrupt the mind's endless
chatter conducted within
the windowless walls of itself.
Too often, a walk is no more
than an exercise in navigation,
vague passage through
a dreamlike world of shapes
floating the outer regions
of what really matters,
your own thoughts.
Time thickens a spun
cocoon. The day in all
its glory remains out there,
sunlight golden on the trees,
the smell of freshly cut grass,
birdsong filtering
through autumn leaves -
more distant now
from the tightening enclave
you slowly weave.
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