Blind Justice of Quotas
The gavel falls by decimal,
The judgement by percent.
The individual decreased to small,
A fraction of intent.
The scales she holds no longer weigh
The implication of the crime; They total up
The data-set to clear the queue of time.
Injudicious eyes are bound
To grids of black and white
Where no extenuating ground can alter
Wrong to right.
We trade the law for calculators, Truth for
targeted numbers.
Escaping fair adjudicators for anything that
computes.
She stands in stone, a blind sum capture to
A pie-chart, crown- a goddess turned outdated,
While column weigh her down.
A ledger filled, a ratio net, The target achieved
And clear;
While justice weeps inside the trap of a
Mathematical World.
Hollow
Stay to be filled
We can help
To fill with drudgery and voids
To fill with poison and blank pages
that we said was a love letter
I wasn’t before, perhaps a little more
So now. Hollow that is, furrowed brow.
Confused by what has come to pass.
Confused by what didn’t last.
Even relationships that were meant to be forever.
Even biological mother didn’t want our family together.
Sure there were situations extenuating
But choosing chemicals over us is still deeply penetrating.
Not to mention lost love, the ones we go out to find.
Not to mention others when I was young who tried to break my mind.
Hollow
Stay to be filled
We can help
To fill with drudgery and voids
To fill with poison and blank pages
that we said was a love letter
Hollow, yes, I might be that
Empty, but there is a purpose to
Emptiness when you are sat
In a place where water can flow through.
The parts of life that picked at me deep
Are things in my heart that I keep.
Because there are lessons to learn
From the times that I burned.
And if I can pass only some of it on
At least I can have a little joy earned.
Execution
In the absence of complication,
intricacies of wayward living,
matters emphatically mitigated,
compelling conclusions, well-received,
extenuating circumstance accomplishes,
impressive consequences, be enduring,
proffers a conciliatory concession,
for toward said conclusion, we pray that all our
trials and tribulations become distant memories.
Above sapphire skies delight sanguine eyes -
amidst the enshrined immersed in the contributable phosphorous azure sea,
encouraged glissades a capricious peacock anointed from an Irish spring,
envisage a virtuous seduced meadow saturated with consistent meandering streams,
lands righteous depths fluidity of the membranes cortex wherever valedictory flourish,
inspiring forthcoming musings of the mind.
2019 November 25
*4th Place*
Complete the poem - In the absence of complication
~~Silent One
distant, sweet, moments
extenuating reasons
no apology
Fathers, Day 2003
"Boundaries"
Written: By Tom Wright
6/16/03
For the elixir of the vine,
Dad could scarcely refrain.
Now just thoughts of his labor,
Like green persimmons, remain.
Twas like some withered old flower,
That doggedly clung to its stem.
Fleecing each morning sun, until at last,
His petals blanched and eye's grew dim.
How oft have I wondered?
As this flower's memory I retrieve.
Questioning extenuating circumstances,
Which I have yet to conceive;
But in all my discernment,
Lay a garden in arrant waste.
Its corners marked by boundaries,
That was unjust and unchaste.
Time has moved hands clockwise,
And those boundaries that were set.
Occasionally grieve my spirit,
O’er that shadow that remains yet.
At my dad's final passing,
I was left wrought up, but sad.
For despite perceived deficiencies,
One fact remained; he was my Dad.
The Divorce / Portrait Metaphor
By: Tom Wright
January 16 2006
In each divorce there’s two portraits painted
But children, as pawns, only one will see.
*Neither portrait is ever quite as good or bad
As the portrait’s painter portrays it to be.
One hangs highlighted to view in best light
While with the other seldom makes the show;
It hangs dimly lit in some obscure place
Where the children lack opportunity to go.
It isn’t that the dimly lit portrait was so bad
Or had lost it’s desire for its progeny to view.
But extenuating circumstances at times forbid
I’ve never seen a Tango that it didn’t take two.
*Husband or Wife is usually never the evil person
The other portrays them to be.
Truth is found somewhere between the two
It’s he said, she said
And the children become lost with the truth.
Tom
Thoughts that swarm inside my head,
Because of what she's made me dread.
So now I hear that laugh and die
And see that smile and away I hide.
Her alluring voice just makes me break
Because a little part of me it takes.
My confidence and self esteem
In her perfect hands now gleam.
Soon my strength begins to wither
And my hand will start to quiver.
My only hope to force a separate,
So far away with many gates.
But now her enchanting face
Will follow me to my safe place.
And the question that seems void of hope
Is how the hell will I ever cope.
Because her wonders is all they see
Which extenuating my inadequacy.
Oh DARK artist
What a beautiful picture you create
Not with hues, pigments, and light
But with tone, imagery, and night
The soul an awaiting canvas
Your pen the finest brush
With reckless abandon you work
Is the masterpiece entitled Suffering
Images of sacrifice, torture, and insanity
A downward spiral of regret in the midst
Ah but when did doom ever seem so sweet
So many beautiful extenuating means
Surely they will justify any end
Your tale like sorcery captivates
You carry the title of Ciarraighe
From the dark rain filled lands
The darkness extends to your inner being
Rain now covering the pictures you paint
Pours forth from within
With each toile of tribulation
Resonating beauty resides
Will the beauty outlive the pain
Unfortunately the canvas cannot answer
In the beginning Love proved concept is vain
Extenuating circumstances of concepts are vain,
Truth proved love, the same, not to be vain,
Manifesting truth as a body in essence vain,
That love and its truth be in essence not vain,
Love’s hope was that truth would not remain vain,
Returning true essence to Loves peace again,
In marriage of twain to void the void of vain,
Vanity of vanity, in eternity, it is quite vain,
The truth did live even in the void body of vain,
Abram found truth even in the void of his vain,
Noah proved truth in sight of humanity quite vain,
These men proved death’s message void and vain,
In twain, death providence proves that void is vain,
As Love repented of His truth buried in flesh vain,
Precept proved truth in the concept of a void vain,
Living of the flesh, no eternity stash, it is in vain,
Truth is in simplicity, complex concepts are vain…
…Selah!
Is there anybody out there
Behind the poetry wall
Lost for words
Writing the truth
Yet extenuating the absurd
HOW MANY TIMES ?
Now I’m a commonsense-o-holic
But when I was a practising catholic
Confession was always a trial or a show.
The guy behind the wire-gauze fence
Always seemed to want to know
How many times I had done the offence.
Well the most common offence, though odious,
Of young teenage boys is obvious:
And sometimes I used to mentally advance
The following extenuating circumstance
Well twenty-eight times this week
Because my hormones were at their peak;
Well fifty-three times but I must admit
It would have been sixty you’d have to acquit
If I had had enough energy left for such crimes;
Well, father, it would have been four times,
But there's no lock on the door, you see
And my mother walked in on me, suddenly.
What did he do with all the statistics of my energy pent?
Of frequency ? Of offending commandment?
Did he report to higher authority?
Did he keep bar charts or pie graphs of me
Compared with other boys of teen-age?
Was I better or worse than average?
Confession is secret so I never found out
But to hell I am going beyond any doubt.
situations are
extenuating
leaving me gasping
On my saddened days
I’m hoping
That angels might shine
They’ve done
everything you can do
To a person in my shoes
I’m still breathing
Made it home to tell my mother
She can rest her thoughts
this evening
Sunny days
Appeal to the circumstances
In my wretched strengths
Living life’s
a variable of extenuating odds
I’m at twenty three percent
Relaxing in the palms
of several ghost
Trying to figure my wife
Theses hard times
Which means the most?
If I call for help
Will anyone respond
I see individuals tattooed
Declaring gods son
If I can do what I do
Then who am I
Because of the people
I was brought to
I shed tears from my left eye
If angels don’t smile
Am I doomed to trials
Of lowered eye brows
Romulus
and if the seas summon tomorrow
I will again ponder your trust
for seasons shall follow
He was known as Romulus
And the seas shall swallow tomorrow
The hand of Romulus
And Caesar shall follow
my heart cries out in agony and pain
bleeding for two men whose losses were in vain
praying for them to gain their sense of normalcy
to get back to where they used to be
please dear God help them to mend
so they can be cleansed and whole again
let them no loose the part of them
that makes them who they are
because of extenuating circumstances
of their intergrity thus far
sometimes things are not what they seem
walking around helpless in a life full of dreams
like poison from their system free them please
help them to stay humble and get down on their knees
in life when they are in their darkest hour
restore to them strength with your higher power
so who will cry for these two men
I'll cry for them father for their heart and spirit to mend
so I will cry again and again
and pray that these two find their strength again
AMEN!
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