This posed a problem in ancient Loch,
As it’s not a canvas of Van Gogh.
When paint ran down my arm
While squashed and ground bugs harm,
I still labelled it ‘Woolly Epoch’.
CURATOR’S NOTE
Period: ‘Holocene epoch’. Medium: Bug pulp, cave soot, elbow grease. Description: In this seminal work, the artist explores the tension between modern chaos and primal innocence. The squashed insect motif suggests a commentary on the fragility of existence, while the arm-smudge technique is a bold rejection of bristle brushes.
The above is a pseudo note in line with the humour of the Limerick.
Ancient howling came back to Earth
And before long more species followed
Some contested against this unnatural birth
But no one could deny it’s monetary worth
Then after a little - our world was swallowed
Even though we lacked a time machine
We ended back up in the Pliocene
Then we fell
We fell down and down
Further down the chain
The more scientists screwed with the current domain
Some of us reverted back as well
Gathering and hunting, because our old-new world fell
Some would live and some would die
Kids were taken and mothers cried
The ones in white coats were mostly taken first
They were the ones who unleashed the curse
Cities got taken by giant birds
They roosted atop the buildings we built
Everywhere you went, a sound could be heard
The sound of blood being spilt
Predators and their megafauna prey
Against each other make the worst sound I’ve heard to this day
But at least it’ll keep them fed
Sometimes that sound made me sleep more soundly in my bed
Oh how the tables turn
And how we turned them till the world burned
Dominate space
At the end of the, argument
Outside the fight
Runt the challenge
Litter the ballads
Confronting the battles
Never landing
Never sanding
Off the grit
Shoulders visit me
One down
And grumpy again
Infinite muse
Turning straight
Becoming hate
Facing suicide
Or nothing comes back
Not allowing a come back
A word and its sworn
To be
The deceit, conceived
I am without
As wist
I became wist
Serpent! Those words were!
On the way, is silence
Because words aren't meeker
this time, to confront grievance
Epoch of reticence!
On the way, is winter of despair
Because hope is true
this time, for thy worst nightmare
Prognostication won't work!
On the way, is melancholic fall
Because eyes are ought to be slavish
this time, to gaze, they won't answer the call
Void or something never enough?
Crossed the way, came fire
to which you are introduced as silence
Cause fate has turned into a liar
Meeting you here at last grasping
every thought every meaningful
gesture I'd wrap myself up in the
essence of your bronzed glow
slowing lowering my minds eye
to the depth of your soul capturing
this bountiful energy that seemed
to restore over and over again
mastered to the faint beating of
my heart mimicking ancient drums
of an untimely epoch insecurities
hidden beneath ageless notions
why I'd opened the doors to a nurtured
love paradox remembered without
effort concealed with truth a natural
fruited appetite for passions found
unmeasured an yet we'd balanced
yesterday and tomorrow today
Anthony and Yolanda Nicholsen Catholic War Veterans
God bless America
Time is smooth like a bird's chirp drew
Hazy but arranged, strength derive.
With asked waning, something might blew
Time is both blendings where zeal rive.
Hissing us all
With a sound fall.
Dread with dying, but given due
flight boundary briefs or contrive.
We wish for a quick and fair true
can't be found, but thrive to connive
Wings are worn out
To grasp, must doubt.
(Posie)
Checked by HMS.COM ( 8884-8884)
Written: June 01, 2022
Posie Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
Living in the Cenozoic era
Broken down for Holocene
Quaternary argues me
Hadean Eon answered
Love is science, religion smiled
Started launching Holy Book
Planetesimal rules, interval.
Hades, Hebrew for hell
Sorrow and coldness
Dismal light dwindles away
A new epoch blooms
Statements are the treats
To the spoken,
But to the intended;
They still might ill-treat.
The Dreamer still dreams-day dreams
To find his passion
In his day,
But realizes at nights
That he spends his time in nothingness.
The Merchant says,
Where and when forth you get me my love
There and then forth I make you not my slave
Where and when forth you get me my riches, I repeat
There and then forth I make you not my slave
Then forth I unscrew your bond
To me
A yearlong you have, to win your life
I won't spare it at all
After this epoch of a lifetime
On the day before his death
The Miser's eyes go bloody red
As red as the flaming fires
In the failure's junk bed
While he day-dreamed .......
Merchant of moments
Peddling the past
A hourglass high
A present that never lasts
Slave to silience
Disguising the deceit
A tongued tied echo
A truth that's never discrete
Time may beget actuality
Expectation elicits emotion
A tacit torture
A sensation that's never chosen
Amidst the vortex of empty time, going back a calumnious climb,
To change a love my only crime, sweet surrender of life sublime…
The Time Machines are ready still, sending me back upon my will,
To gain back love I shall fulfill, amongst meadows of the daffodil.
Evaporating reflections in my eyes, hands of time turning clockwise,
May the love we had apprise, as I look at the darkened distant skies…
The stars align for I await and the planets rebuttal in their debate,
The Time Keepers guard the gate, within their arms I leave my fate.
In perpetuation of times expanse, chronological clocks in romance,
Cupid’s arrow is ready to lance, while my heart prepares to dance…
I approach my love once more, will their love palpitate with a pour,
Guardians of time open their door as I awake out of bed on the floor.
Oct.07.2019
...turn back the hands of time
Sponsored by: Silent One
Placed 2'nd...Thank You
Locked in
time.
Prisoners.
Prisoners each
to their
own
epoch.
Choice.
No choice.
Conform,
live as the
time dictates.
No choice.
Look at
their faces!
Dealing.
Dealing best
they can
with what’s
been handed.
No choice.
Rules in place.
Each time
different.
Must be
what time
dictates.
No choice!
A whole is normally the sum of all of its parts
Cept in politics, stumps even us most clever bards
All rules are out the window
The world is in limbo
We'll soon come to our senses and this era disregard
The beauty stands still climbing cascading white fangs seeing aqua blue
EPOCH
My literal nemesis
An engagement with enmity
A truest of enemies
Dishonest to none, except to me.
Only to me. She saves her lies for me.
Saves herself while all her time is in other peoples company
Only lies to me at night
And only when she is done;
Will I write our morning Effigy?
Our reminders of children’s convictions
Our witness to a daily penance gone
For the crimes suffered at the hands of parents
As our own parenting lacked.
Absence begets absence from
Abuse brought from neglect.
Its genetic it is inherent
In other words there’s no escape
It has always been waiting, this mental trap.
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