Words echoed that should never have been spoken.
Fiery accusations leaving hearts broken.
Twirled anger erupted, stabbing as if by a sword.
Vile innuendo from both of them, poured.
Shattered crystal, the statue she threw.
He barely recognised her, behaving like a shrew.
He glared in disbelief at the ugly scene.
Gone now, the adored devotion that once had been.
All culminating in a crescendo of bitter screams.
Her heart pounding, she envisaged her forlorn dreams.
The mirror depicts a virtual war zone.
His departure left her fragile and all alone.
She kicked the crumpled dress, realised her leg was sore.
The smashed perfume bottle still spilling across the floor.
A WARDROBE MISHAP
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There once was a squirrel named Marilyn,
In a dress made of white, she was a twirlin’.
With a gust of fresh air on her derriere,
She danced with nary a care,
And the male squirrels cheered, “You’re a sexy darlin’!”
But one day, as she twirled and leapt with delight,
Her dress caught a branch in mid-flight.
With a flap and a flap,
She fell in a snap—
And the other squirrels erupted in fright!
Yet Marilyn laughed, brushed off her dress,
“Just a wardrobe mishap, I confess!
But the breeze, oh so sweet,
Makes my heart skip a beat,
In my fashionable attire, I have such finesse!”
Sickle speckled like deckles of beef
Girl freckled gave my pickle relief
She pecked on my schmeckle
Like Heckle and Jeckle
Then deep beneath erupted a queef
It grew and blew my shoe out to sea
But soon I knew was coming for me
As the gas flew higher
It lit my ass on fire
A Roman Candle I seemed to be
Flame stung the cats, it cut 'em like knives
Wind flung the rats, they ran for their lives
Red turds swelling the eye
Dead birds fell from the sky
The news predicts that no one survives
I felt as small as a winter’s flower
yet as tall as an old oak tree
the seconds dragged on for what seemed like hours
when my world turned in on me
the cloak I wore was of little comfort
just to bridge between present and past
I held onto this and other secrets
no more a peasant but a king at last
by the time I had finished speaking
the crowd erupted with applause
then towards me they were reaching
as the judgment came into force
the mask was meant to protect me
from what no one should have seen
a noose was placed just oh so gently
I thought it was a bit extreme
I sank into the grain that supported
absorbed deep in the fibres below
my legs gave way it was reported
I wriggled until they let me go.
Gazing the bright constellation in dark skies,
I asked my lover, would you like to be black hole lover?
We will spun into each other’s night—
Two collapsing stars caught in afterglow;
Your eyes, event horizons pulling me tight,
Where my soul folds deeper than light can go.
I whispered into your dark design,
“I’ll free-fall into your cosmic roar,”
Your warmth erupted in the void’s decline,
And in that collapse, we became something more.
She gasped and wondered, will it be a Romeo and Juliet love?
In black hole love, we lose our names and existence,
God has given us one-time precious life to live,
Kiss me, hug me, love me, I will be yours forever more,
Trust each other, shed our egos, become one together,
In this earthly love, our souls will merge and will be happy forever..
"He won’t paint", cried out the Father
suspecting a flame of genius
in the toddler’s eyes.
The painterly parent bought paper, acrylics,
oils, brushes, chalks, and crayons,
not even a finger painting emerged.
The child steadfastly refused to paint.
The father pleaded:
“For the glory of God why not paint!”
His offspring only turned away
to suck a thumb.
Months past…years.
The child grew to be a sullen teenager.
He began to write poetry – and such woeful,
doleful poetry!
Exclamation marks rose up in heaven
as thick as bamboo forests.
His father read them, his face grew ashen
with a sickly alarm.
The poems spoke of phantasmagorical visions,
hordes of screaming demons, dismembered
herds of hapless humans.
Abysmal were the visions the boy unleashed
from his newly erupted consciousness.
Presentiments flew up from the pages
as horrid as the blood-red dragons of Hades.
Upon reading his son’s latest works
the father exclaimed:
“For God’s sake, NEVER paint!”
He took the young man for long walks in the country,
forced him to join a local soccer team,
suggested a military career,
alas
the boy began to paint.
Could never predict,
In any way,
What would unfold,
Throughout each day.
Walking on eggshells,
Living in fear,
Stuck in survival,
Declining every year.
Constantly torn between,
Fight or flight,
Until it erupted,
Changing everything overnight.
Now or never,
Said the voice,
Without a doubt,
Knew my choice.
Didn't know how,
I'd ever cope,
But never once,
Gave up hope.
I battled alone,
Jumped through hoops,
Could never win,
Rotating in loops.
Assigned to support,
Instead got worse,
Weighing me down,
Like some curse.
Fed empty promises,
Hoping I'd believe,
Unlucky for them,
Wasn't that naive.
Reaching my limits,
Couldn't fight anymore,
Made them leave
Out my door.
Taking back control,
Standing my ground,
Was never lost,
Didn't need found.
Choosing to pave,
My own path,
By creating beauty,
In the aftermath.
A Friday,
a plane crash,
a phone call,
all it took
for your whole world to shatter.
You never got to tell them
how you’d follow in his footsteps
in his wing span
You never got to tell him
that you only wished to follow
in that Cessna Skylane
one three-pronged tragedy
became the axis
around which the rest of your stories
would turn
one sorrowful night
changed who you were
forever
and by the time I came along
all your fire
ferocity,
passion
had crashed into electric wire
erupted into flames
had been decapitated
and so it is left to me
to honor your mother,
and your brother
in ways you never taught me
but I learned anyway.
And I will ignore
the memory of Grandpa George,
because he crashed that damn plane
on purpose…
or did he?
Unmet expectations strike hard,
hurting where they languish long.
Unkept promises are blows earned,
hitting where they find no resistance.
Unkind words are slashes harsh,
ripping through the calm conscience.
The dormant volcano within the soul
then gets the upsurge of melted psychic mantle
in the crust of brittle tolerance,
that collapses in the caldera cradling the vent,
reaching the magma chamber in the core.
The soul erupts the lava in the wild,
burns the gentle patience as it flows.
Uncontrolled, it blazes the heart,
undowsed, it singes the sane senses.
The smoke billows up thick and intense,
clouds the deranged essence.
Words rise like Sphinx from the toxic ashes,
perish the patient face of mental restraint.
The flame surges in the stream of neurons,
no longer the carrier of conformist signals.
From the volcanic inferno of the soul
the erupted fiery lava called anger flows
in the torrents of blistering words,
scalding whatever comes in the way,
blazing a furrow for the reticent life.
We never knew that death was so close.
And when our grand daughter was dying,
Before her passing we began to pray.
Something erupted deep inside of me.
I yelled loudly; I pleaded to God;
I said, " Lord, please don't let her die!
Can you do this for me?"
I cried like a newborn baby.
God heard me but he said, "No".
When my oldest sister died
I felt my breath being taken away
And it seemed reality disappeared
When my daughter's husband abused her
A force of anger exploded in my soul,
Igniting desires to do him bodily harm.
Only God held me back from attacking him.
When I lost a job in San Francisco
I was at a loss and did not know what to do,
Where to go, or who to call as eruptions of
Fear boiled up inside of me. But for the grace
Of God and his guiding light, a continual flow
Of emotional lava would have overwhelmed me.
When my grandmother passed away
My dream of introducing her to my
First born also died.
Many are the eruptions of life,
Causing disruptions in our lives.
But we must remember that God's
Grace is abundant, preventing
total destruction to our lives.
PETALS IN HEARTSPACE
Authenticity presents from persevering peeling peeling tasked by cached Courage
courage erupted emitting high frequency Faith
faith embraced terrifying Truth
truth consummated desired DivineLove
DivineLove lotused peace petals in HeartSpace
Light years before
history began to take itself seriously
we commenced to spin our myths.
We carry these unread books,
to where this ancient world
has erupted from the molten
to solid ground. Enter this malleable
and imaginary planet
speaking of improbable odysseys
and sagas.
None may advance
unless the impossible be made possible.
imagine such,
and re-weave tapestries,
of an on-going mythology
from newfound visions.
I also convey this free-range poetry
as a gift to myself,
planting seeds of fable and fiction,
knowing that the unthinkable,
the inconceivable,
can, and will be born
into the willing womb of tomorrow.
Four years before George Floyd met death
Tony Timpa drew his last breath
A cop pressed a knee into his back too
Tony cried warnings, the warnings were true.
Tony was white, George was black
A knee in Tony's back wasn't a racist attack
In neither case, was killing sought
It was a bad police tactic, that cops were taught.
If we talk of George Floyd also recall David Dorn
When protests erupted, then riots were born
You can cry "no justice, no peace'
But a looter shot David, made his life cease.
David, a black man, was trying to protect a store
That too is a story we should not ignore
To some, black lives matter only if the story resonates
So many other stories buried in these United States.
Don't just care when the outrage aligns,
Think of the lives falling between the lines.
To motivation I listened.
Daylight greeted, and bid farewell
but I still listened.
Night came
Peeked though the window,
watched as I roamed around
comprehending what I had listened to.
Days turned to weeks,
and weeks to months,
then years, almost in unison
Yet nothing came about
I listened still
to motivation like a
motive motioned to
evocate.
I believed and crazy I was labelled
I fell and laughter
erupted from their throats
hoarse yet mockingly infectious.
"You can't do it", "you're only a dreamer"
they mocked and concluded.
But I still listened
Diligent, helpless
yet submissive to conquest,
and now
I listened,
conceived, and attainment is tied
around my soul's
successor, for thee who listens
in abundance gift's he shall obtain.
A dealer of drugs
With immense wealth
Was chosen as president
Of a meeting
commemorating the foundation day
Of a local club
by its office bearers.
As the meeting concluded
He announced a donation
Of rupees ten thousand
In cash to the club.
The audience
Erupted in applause.
The poem based on a local TV Disscussion Prgramme.
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