"I want a season that whispers, "Jesus."
Ann Voskamp
'Twas the night before Xmas... No, No. WAIT!
That big X woefully negates Christ's birth ~
A phrase I detest and makes me irate
because it diminishes Jesus' worth.
At Christmas, presents are always gifted
What greater gift could there be, but His life?
Pity, the name of the season shifted
where only joyful merriment is rife.
"X" out Santa Claus from the occasion
and there'd be a tumult of objections.
There's no balance in such an equation.
These are my sentiments and reflections.
I celebrate His sacrifice each day,
sans a tinseled tree or lights on display,
so I have excised "Xmas" as a word
for its use is Biblically absurd.
November 27, 2021
"X" Contest hosted by Constance la France
life had become a flat line
a once wonderful rhythm
ceased to pulsate
not even palpitations
pressure had won over
struggling on
depression self-harm
cognitive dysfunction
one final cut
then he touched her heart
excised rotten valves
replaced them with joy
bypassed clots of despair
offered new lease of love
sleeping beauty woke up
from deep slumber
when the surgeon
closed the wounds
she bore her scars with
gratitude and pride
10th September 2021
Contest: The One Who Touched My Heart
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
Just Beyond The Gate
David J Walker
There is a road
there is a cliff
there is certain rendezvous
just beyond where
There is life
There is death
There is light lit
By excised breath
There is sleep
Lying in wait
Just beyond a
Final dawn and unknow fate where
There is the low laughter
Of a river
And pasture with green grass
Just beyond the gate
rotten molars unnerved her moribund hunger for living on
she extracted the pain with blunt scalpels pliers and hammer
damaged her smile as well but with the cornerstones removed
in the aftermath of destruction nothing was left but a stammer
loops of denial and self-incrimination established more pain
she tore her heart out under the shelter of drugs and booze
abuse self-incrimination and injustice festered in her mind
emoted a cardiac bypass for feelings leaving nothing to lose
a spiritual minefield exploded and she gathered rapid speed
performed a lobotomy with a manual and surgical precision
hysterical psychedelia and amphetamines furthered the cause
reached complete numbness from the screwdriver’s incision
only after all operations uppers downers and morphine failed
she realized that life was to seize no matter how it panned out
checked into rehab and abandoned jigsaw super glue and fear
took up painting and poetry and excised her vile needless doubt
25th September 2020
Vials of sacred births
By choice-less compulsion
Shattered at earth darkest harbor,
The male and female cargo ejected at nature’s will.
Nine branches abide in one face of a lonesome vine
Some are scorched as if passed through nature’s kiln
Others are wrenched as saplings, their nodes blood-dried
Yet others seek nutrients for witting leaves,
Flourishing branches excised by unseen hands
Breathe the air of foreign climes as
Gnarled hands of malice and envy
Tattoo native branches with ugly incision
Bleeding sap from gaunt members
Now cracked, hacked and sallow.
Today I feel sublime.
In awe, it's my time!
High emotions, ring ding, chime.
I feel fine, you know!
So happy I'm breathless.
Dawn's elation is endless.
Goodness is honed, sharply in focus.
I feel fine, you know!
I've forsaken the half-life.
Excised the nays with knife.
Yeah's and OK's now rife.
I feel fine, you know!
Destiny's equation rewritten.
Now, zest and zeal emblazon
My mood, buoyant with beacon
I feel fine, you know!
---------------------------------
29 April 2018
Everything, be it good or bad in life has a price.
Now if you want your slice, take some advice.
Think twice about rolling the dice. Although it
Could come out nice or it could suffice but oft
Times you get caught in the grip of a vice and
It's far too over priced.
So be wise in what you devise because you may
Have to revise or compromise, whatever the
Guise, just keep your eyes on the prize. For the
Unexpected has excised many a device thought
Up by men and mice. So be precise, not enticed
If you are lured into a fool's paradise, you'll be
Paying far too high a price.
Limerick crochetés: Once Tamil Promotion Director
Once Tamil Promotion Director
Excised wise Japanese co-founder
Called him names like rogue thief
Set himself up as Chief
All Dravidian Tamil Editor
He posed as the Royal Ancestor
Even of the Chola* Emperor
Slave-drove workers in fief
Used savants make belief
Such the Tamil Highness Publisher
He caged talents the Money-Maker
Poised as Conference Organiser
Preyed on Buddhist belief
On Chan and Zen mischief
To lard his own family bunker
Ideas he plucked from the Other
Made as if he put up with bother
Tamils to lead as Chief
No matter what the grief
None see his pen as plagiariser
All helpers rough-rode he the Miser
Shed them shorn one after the other
Damn not this common thief
Just his penchant for Chief
For Tamil knowledge made he Server
[* The Chola dynasty (among other South-Indian reigns) of the 10th to 12th centuries C.E. extended Tamil culture and civilization over the better part of Sri Lanka and Southeast Asia without having recourse primarily to conquests and/or of maintaining colonies.]
© T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
Darkness envelopes me seeping into every cell
Icy tendrils as unyielding as the moment that brought me here
Here to this place of unrelenting grief.
My breath is excised from this remnant of my former self
As I wander alone in the overwhelming expanse
Of this darkness that has become my existence.
Though the world relegates itself of I your bearer
This heart holds your memories and keeps you close
While I dream of you...until my time fades to black.
The purge started with honest appraisal.
A deep peer within to unlock the knots
tying 'never too open' lockets shut.
There were regrets, fall-shorts, damning selfies
all to be opened with tear drops and fears,
exposing the scars, hurts, raw open wounds.
Effective catharsis by expungement
was the only way to wipe the slate clean.
So with scalpel and scraper the rot gut
was excised by wiping bad memories
away with a total system refresh.
The unresolved was foiled with stark parries
the aching boils were lanced and puss squeezed out
Each locket expunged was burnt at the stake
so regrets and short-comings had no where
to hide, no chance to beguile the future.
I enjoyed the glow and stench of the fire.
catharsis smoke and ashes blackening
the sky, carried away by wind disgusts.
I took the force of it again today
A curled formed fist from powerful limb
Planted on cheek in full fledged force
Rendered with frustrated frenzy
And me the punch bag
I took the torrent of ugly words today
Aimed just for me like poisonous arrows
That infiltrate and destroy the soul
And humiliate my tortured mind
I took it all without a word
I took the weight of unwanted lust today
Upon my meagre violated body
Forced against will to serve base needs
Instilling hurt and sanguine pain
Contaminated and used
I bore the agony of excised pain today
That went beyond the barrier of suffering
Of no desire and mutilation
Taken without assent and free will
Now void of feeling and of worth
I had to marry an old fat man today
And take glib vows at tender age
Lost now the age of child-like innocence
No time to play, no time to feel free
Just subjected and servile
I carry the marks of abuse today
Of contusion and mental confusion
Of pain, depression and low self esteem
Of humiliating indignity
And permanent scar
Once upon a time fairies had tails, feathers and even scales.
This is the true tale of how and why fairies lost their tails.
Well
It all began in ancient times in the age of the dinosaurs
The first fairies were like mini flimsy and flighty Archaeopteryx
With scales, feathers and a long prehensile tail adorned with scales
Fairies flipped their tails to cast spells
But their tails were heavy and misspells were frequent.
Undoing spells was costly, unsure and tricky.
One day the fairy godmother decreed:
"Fairy Tail spells are Old Hat and Flawed"
"There's too many bad spells from miss-flicked tails"
"Fairies need a wand in hand like me"
"Fairy tails be gone!"
With a 'Hey Presto' flick of godmother wand
All fairy tails were painlessly excised
And converted to hand-held magic wands
So now you know
The fairy tale of how a fairies lost their tails
And stopped their misspells.
Ashes to transcendence mid infested holy waters
naught bearing ascertained compassionate divinity,
mad puppet masters fleecing wings in lieu of
ceremoniously exorcised influential malignancy
at the right hand of almightily held hallucinations
strapped over barrels & sanctimoniously flogged,
no show of mercy notwithstanding devoted defenses,
residing within sacredly inventive corrupt corporations
embezzling enterprising riches' dutiful abstractions,
bless them Father for they woefully neglected
the word of all gods' intent and persuasions, serving
no higher purpose than to gild collective repositories
of sinfully en-massed wealth in the name of religion
and the sacrificed blood of Jesus' crucified convictions
written upon coveted covenants' ingrained biblical bluffs,
struck settling false witnesses' far-side excised stonework
When hurt is embedded, so deeply within
how does one remove it, where do they begin?
The decay begins slowly, when a life starts a-rotting
and it cannot be changed by planning or plotting
It's not be chased, nor coaxed from it's lair,
not left to escape and vanish into thin air
It can't be extinguished as a fire with a blanket,
nor hammered into shape like coins with a planchet
It can't be wiped as from the eye like a mote,
or scraped like a barnacle from the hull of a boat
It cannot be pulled from the soul like a cord
or hewn as a rope by the blade of a sword
It can't be excised like a malignant lump,
nor can it be carted away to the dump
It can only be moved with love and compassion,
with time and with care, there is no other fashion
No bitter cove, so atrophy's employ
I wrestle with content, complexion's cloy,
the general indication to destroy
combat with trials ending ~ in convoy!
Ne'er the edge of space that would deploy
my sentiment, accepting this feigned rule
to kill or not be killed, no infant's toy
this registrar of negligence adds the fuel!
The teaming of great men, and women's school
envisioning some justice from restrain,
not only speaking justice, but its tool
to love, or not be loved still erstwhile gain!
And so I love thee thus, in absence pool
eternity's fond grace, a reckoning aim,
all fetish, honored, stolen, made a fool
as in life's challenges excised with claim!
And so I love thee most ~ and so exclaim
this poet's license holding heart's impair,
as only healing from thy hurt as main
I hold my own in righteous truth's own share!
. . . thee asking not my premise, I not strain
my spirit knows thy freeing . . . my aware!
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