Fabricates Poems

Introspection

My eyes are open
My mind is pacing 
My heart is racing

So I close my eyes
And sit in quietude 
I was told it fabricates a different attitude 

Looking for the child 
who needs to escape 
While I listen to the echoes 
Of the bowls reverberate

As I look into my Minor eyes
I begin to catechize
As I analyze 
I begin to realize 
My younger mind has been traumatized 

Now I see my inhibitions with great lucidity 
So I begin to question their validity 

As we confabulated
Liberation is what eventuates

I open my eyes to a new feeling 

Once a caged mind
Now unfettered 
Once vacillated 
Now resolute 

Now I embark on an odyssey 
With consecrated determination 
Surmounting impediments without hesitation 

Oh how my life has changed 
Since I’ve been acquainted with meditation.

Epitome Of Existence

With empty capacious containers 
the living entities 
arrive arrogant 
and depart desolate,
in between turn into 
greed slaves to snatch
the unearned fortune,
getting sucked spellbound 
within abyss of temptation.

In the inferno of 
corporeal passion temporal,  
the frenetic flare 
laced by luring lust
debases the fervent feeling 
of platonic pining,
but in blooming love 
it can sparkle sublime
with the patina of penchant.

The chase of mirage 
in the deceptive ego desert 
etches the fragile footprints 
of delusive dominance
with sandstorm trajectory,
but the squall of strife 
over the dune of dwindled life
subsides in the inner space 
of latent love configured
in the conceded cauldron 
of self-less surrender.

In the blazing realm 
of connived conflict 
sane senses of sobriety 
turn into cinder,
flaming the fiber of prudence,
but the shower of sagacity,
spurting from love fountain 
with divine flamboyance
douses the fire of disdain
and
with the allayed ashes 
fabricates the framework 
of cordially congruent 
epitome of existence.

Latent Lattice

Penultimate misty mile
resonates pined
sunset swan song
of forlorn footprints
transformed to
flattened anonymity. 

In the shadow of 
cleaved cloud
in swarming storm
turmoil threads
weave ordained
webbed horizon
languished obscurity,

Convolute canvas of
chameleon conversion
deception illumines  
the last corner
patina plays
beguiled buoyant
with the remnant rays
of sanguinity.

In the final flash
of the sinking sun
latent lattice 
fabricates in delusion
unframed dreams
of petrified life
in kaleidoscopic snapshot.

Heatseeker

That was strike two but you’re the only one keeping score
I didn't realize there were heart strings attached
You know I have trouble listening 
Yet you're still undressing
But your clothes are draped on you and not the floor, 
So that’s strike three 
I know you like to work with your hands but I didn't realize you were blue collar
Snorting vitamin D is your idea of a natural dependency   
And you’re not Icarus 
But I'm surprised homemade wings couldn't get you any higher 
Even a jack of all trades could be dealt a losing hand 
A welder fabricates
But so does a liar 
You're like a sprouting lemon tree 
That's protruding into my backyard
And being shady 
You’ve sentenced me to a life behind your stitched cloth bars 
What an unlawful thing to crave 
And you may be prosperous and the right amount of sour 
But I'm sure as hell not making lemonade 

And not to be dramatic
But can I really live without this?

You left my temptation so abused, 
I might be a liability to your prowess

Somber Rebellion

Somber Rebellion 

Upon somber's horrid-rebellious fleet,
Corvus and ravens are victims who plead,
Nightmare which leeches through logic and glee,
Conceals itself behind bleaks ominous screams.

Coercion of luminity for pallid deeds,
Fabricates these mirrored-fraudulent beasts,
Wandering over a picayune defeat,
Condemning drab-shadows for your vulnerability.

Blight and woes for haul of gloom, 
no stand for hope and bloom...
As it pulls us to an abyss of nothingness,
Why stand in path of haughtiness?

Concealer of truth, yet beholder of it too,
The coagulate of shade fears and escapes,
Across with warm bask of delicate ray,
Time's meticulous philosophy orders whoosh...it all Fades! 
                                                                         -Kethanramc

Virtuous and Vicious

He weaves coincidences
and makes up stories,
He creates stories
and makes up myths,
He spins tall tales—
Is he a poet or politician?

He loves with a passion
like a man on a mission…
He lies truthfully,
The truths he ever tell  
are nothing but lies,
He fabricates true lies—
Is he a priest or a philanderer? 

He’s suave, he’s savvy,
As the Satan would snatch sinful souls,
He steals your thoughts stealthily 
and flirts with your alter ego 
corrupting your subconscious —
Is he a saint or a savant?


~03/19/23
~Contest: A Simple Poetry
~Sponsor: John lawless

Plausibility

contrary to popular religious belief
our universe was not created in a week
the universe did not spring from nowhere
spewing out planets and breathable air
that which constitutes the totality
has forever defined reality
difference lying within the constant changes
which evolution by any other name is

this world was not created for humankind
we adapted became physically aligned
to survive the environment our planet provides
what is possible becoming the ongoing guide
humans forgot their place within being
only themselves they now seem to be seeing
fortunately this universe does not care
if species is self-centered and unaware
that not one condition is ever permanent
including the so-called human experiment

no matter who or how long faith denies
fabricates larger, more intricate lies
self-righteousness and all consuming prayer
realty destroys it layer by layer
coming down to  final analysis
existence shall always be all there is

Poker Faced Man

Have you seen the poker-faced man holding a deck of cards in his hand? He shows no emotions and displays no surprise but continuously fabricates the world’s most sinister lies.
 
He gives two personas to present to us all, and manipulates his way into power to hasten our fall.
 
Unseen, all pervasive, he hides our demise, the Jin and Jang of deception, suppression and lies.
 
False dichotomy adopting agents of fraud to change our perception and influence our thoughts to believe their deception they hold so dear, and brainwash the masses into the directions they steer.

His hidden hand controls all we know, to escape his web, where should we go? 
The poker face man will outlive all of us, but his day will come when he’s turned into dust.
 
Judgement will rise and will fall, crush his deception, rendering him naked, exposed to us all.

A Poem

Every woe is a new poem
A new prose which fabricates the stars in the galaxy
They say about the spilling blood out from the heart
Like satin wine-drops in the pages
Behold! They hold their luck inside 
Tuck their malice, which are undone
Let them breath with your inhalation 
Let them live with your recitation
Every patel-less flower is a poem
They caste off their laughter in the sand
Which dehydrate them and shows the 
Hallucination of heaven 
Behold! They are naked and weeping for mercy
Let them cover with your hands
Let them free with your recognition
Every mate-less bird is a poem
Whose feather get ruffled by the ugly wind
They lost their voice of laughter
Sing only to remember the guillotine of fate
Behold! They’re falling from the sky with a new tone
Let them fly with your complacence
Let them have their salvation by your sad feelings.

Allura and Her Sentinel

One is inhibited
when to grasp for her
without care without pity,
a stark reminder
for those with intent 
for behold a portrait of nature
when to gaze upon
the blushing Rose at home
amongst her guardian thorns
a rural delight
nurtured in the city
in grounds of remembrance
for there she sparkles,
as she fabricates the scented air
basks in the sunrise
shimmers in dawn’s breaking dew.

 © Harry J Horsman 2021

Threads of Hope

The trickling teardrops fall like rain
dousing love's spark, and as you cry,
passion's flame begins to die.

All of your pleadings were in vain,
his every lie summons a tear
that drowns your hurting heart in fear.

Treating you with scorn and disdain
leaves little room for love to bloom,
despite the babe within your womb.

He fabricates lies to explain
although you've heard them all before,
and don't believe him anymore.

He doesn't love you; that much is plain:
for it's getting harder to cope,
clinging to so few threads of hope.

And yet, you'll take him back again;
for you're afraid to lose your man,
and try to cope the best you can.

The trickling teardrops fall like rain:
all of your pleadings were in vain.
Treating you with scorn and disdain:
he fabricates lies to explain.
He doesn't love you; that much is plain:
and yet, you'll take him back again.

The Locus of Focus

Focus, the master key that unlocks
Stoutly locked doors to your future
Feeds on discipline that blocks
Distractions and fractious fractions in your culture. 

Focus, the gismo that breaks
Deadlocks and tames dreadlocks
In your environment where reckless wrecks
Catalyse red herrings teeming with simplistic spokes.

Focus, the catalysis that fires up your determination
To soldier on in spite of red herrings
Threatening to derail your momentous mission
As your momentum disentangles itself from surrender strings.

Focus, the factory that fabricates strategies
Techniques and methods to realise your potential
As you embark full throttle on your mission despite elegies
Composed and crooned in celebrations detractors deem essential.

Uncertain

Heed then the touch of certainty
That mellows in uncertainty


There is a strange reason why change
Fabricates an odd feeling strange


Embrace the conflict that confronts
As soul and mind and heart bear brunt


Seek to run away from harsh pain
That raptures swellings in your brain


Yet adjust to ample clashing
As grey matter combusts blazing


Anger is a crude attempt here
To survive the pains that endear


Bear with uncertainty right now
Yet live with what sweepings endow


Clear madness moves such crazy times
Where complex feelings kill plain rhymes


Success comes after tensile purge
Briefly jerking the fleeting urge




Leon Enriquez
28 August 2017
Singapore

Mythomaniac

The words stumble from her lying
Mouth while her obtuse mind struggles
For likely continuity.
In due course the lie emerges
Full-blown, ready for deceiving
An innocent, unsuspecting
Host singled-out as the target.
This pathological liar
Fabricates the fundamentals
In a way that’s favorable
To her in case she is challenged.
There is no motive to look for
Because there really isn’t one.
She must lie and she’s good at it.

Jonah - Chapter 10, Verses 68-69, Holy Koran

They say, Allah has got a son!
Whereas He is the Most Sacrosanct 
And the Self-Sufficient One.
Everything that is in the skies 
And the earth belongs to God.
You have no proof to show!
Do you allege about Allah what you don’t know?

Say, whoever fabricates lies against Allah the Truthful
Will never ever be successful.

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