The Black Monolith
David J Walker
Its not just another days
Insanity
Predictable
Excusable
Lost reality
A commonality
Of precious time tossed
The clocks chime
Is just another number
Once lost
Twice added
to the darque vapor
Of the past
At my present in excusable age
I still crazily rage
In lien of acting The Sage:
Bold to open a wrong page
Upon receipt of a poor wage:
The Dry Look of one in a cage
And to my Boss “I’m twice your age!”
And at this far-gone age,
A few things I bother to gauge,
Little releasing to Image,
To one day end up in my village …
In short, at things I rush
And Concerned Advisers hush
Or their advice crush
Or watch their concern crash
And still mumble a line rash.
All the men in the upper deck
Are after my fragile neck;
For every step of mine, the longest check;
Looking for plans of mine to wreck…
God! Did I their wives’ cheeks peck?
These guys could my body toss into a beck!
Now, on my defensive right hand
Is assaulting gravelly sand
I had sourced from a sympathizing land,
Bearing though A keep Off!” Red Band;
The sand its way shall find into eyes;
While I coolly assemble excusable lies…
What I’m fighting: Antagonisms
From ten hateful organisms.
Imagine a pie chart
Through the middle a line
One half is your view
The other is mine
Now imagine a pie chart
All the views of mankind
Some see a small slither
Same approach everytime
appearing knowing and smart
They Self justify or deny
Never wrong and excusable
They're living a lie
Terrified insecurity
Lives deep down inside
If their flaws are seen
humiliation they'll die
These people never change
You have to leave them behind
If you don't you'll suffer more
Hurting you for their pride
Mistakes,
Previous excusable;
Failing misidentifying misunderstanding;
Miss apprehension;
Grievous so ever;
4/22/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
Looking outside, there's nothing unusual
Clouds are threatening but that's quite excusable
Rain's quite normal
Snow's immoral
Good weather's expected, okay I'm delusional
Looking outside, there's nothing unusual
Clouds are threatening but that's quite excusable
Rain's quite normal
Snow's immoral
Good weather's expected, okay I'm delusional
Insurmountable
Instead of shaking hand with smiles
The gentle man with tie in neck
Bent his head bloating throat of haste
White face turned red pollution of blade
Conclusion made a rough sketch
Only spending in vain these fabulous days
Far from the internet roars and uproars thrilled
Hands with hats and hoods display of face
A major case was blown hither thither
Humans were treated with harsh race
Believing so case demanded withdrawal of chase
Symptoms blurred in TV this morning I face
A pigeon was lifting a written piece
Glimpse of modern days puffed sad sad
chemistry was excusable for peace and bliss
But dwarfing creeds and beliefs from human face.
Democracy.
He HAS arrived, later than usual
But Old Man Winter's lateness is excusable
In fact another week or two
Would've been appreciated too
But we thank the gods for this snow reducible
© Jack Ellison 2016
too many people constipate the everlasting
i use the populous of the widened state as a scapegoat
the melancholy wind is my magic carpet rush hour
it is my favorite time of the day to clock out
i think of younger days when all the fruits on every tree were fresh and ripe
i think of brighter days when all rocks were alive and eager to skip
i think of simpler days when every vibe of motion had their smiles everpresent
i think of better days when visions in front of me were so crisp and crystalline
too many changes cause flatulation to all forward movement
i use the populous of the explosive state as an excusable method of isolation
the odoriferous wind is my magic carpet rush hour
it is my favorite time of the day for an alternate route
In excusable
The scent left at my weak nose
A shattering fart!!!!!!!!
Blame me,
But I had no part in this,
You believe what you want,
Toxic and acidic,
Would you be so kind as to pull me apart?
Take me down to that place,
Where it is all too easy to take my defenses away.
My eyes they fade to grey,
This is no beautiful convention,
But a despicable race.
Show me something old,
Like photographs when the sidewalks would not trap,
The springs would not snap,
The headboard would not crack.
And I am wallowing in vain here.
Underpass,
Sour sublime,
Fawning over an excusable sunrise,
Better late than never,
How trite we can be.
Save those sweet lips for the morning,
The clarity brings me to tears,
This was the song,
That fueled the warning,
We only have seconds left.
Hold onto that last breath.
Never confessing what just seeing you does to me
Wishing I could touch your heart
I lose myself to fear and fantasy when you come near
You are the love of another
Dreaming of you often in excusable thoughts of innocence
Wishing I could touch your face
You are above me in everything at high distances beyond
And I am the coward hiding away next to you
For you are the eye of God a beauty of completeness pure
Wishing I could touch your spirit
In these torturous waves I breath deeply of your essence
Paralyzed in the perfect desire
Through the passing of days I shall ever love and desire you
Wishing I had touched your heart
Sycophancy they celebrate
Insolvency they worship
Profligacy they cherish
Grandiosity they love.
Impudence remains a force
To reckon with
Indolence rewarded
Amidst pomp and pageantry
Intolerance to dissent
Views became the hallmark
Thesis plagiarizing became licit
Academic placid legitimatised
Megabyte prowling encouraged
Supersonic pillaging sanctioned
Persecution became acceptable
Intimidation remains excusable
Exploitation officially allowable
All these only during the
Dark days of an “Ifa priest”
With the so called magic wand
In the garden of life
Christen U and I.
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