The ginkgo tree stood proud
with glorious golden foliage on display.
It rippled and fluttered like a crowd
shivering on a cool and frisky autumn day.
Last night she shed her shroud when no one could see
the wafting flagrant communal striptease.
Today we stare at a nude, barren, cold ancient tree
waiting for Spring to entice a reprise.
Meet the mad, manic, Mister Murgatroyd
An undynamic blistered humanoid
A curred curmudgeon you don't want to meet
In a bar, back alley, or dead end street
He's a filthy, flagrant, flatulent fart
Sewer rat mind and tarantula heart
Cleaves cuddly kittens, feeds them to guppies
Pet pranks the pet shop, punting the puppies
He's our white whale and our snake in the grass
A demon from hell, one pain in the ass
His black, rotten heart's beyond all belief
We need good karma to offer relief
Slurp burping some soup, soup wouldn't swallow
Burp slurping for breath, death would soon follow
A lone chicken bone was lodged in his throat
His face had changed tone and started to bloat
No one there for the Heimlich maneuver
Cuz no one cared from here to Vancouver
No smelling salts would be administered
No certificate of death was registered
They scrambled his brains to stop his last twitch
Then scraped his remains, dropped him in a ditch
A soulless soul and one sorry old sot
Heavens to Murgatroyd?... Heaven thinks not!
His dog was on a grassy field
That clearly said, “No Pets!”
Entitlement in every way,
As awful as it gets.
For adding to his flagrant
Disregard of that one sign,
He puffed on a cigar, when smoking’s
Also out of line.
What really got to me, though,
Was his bag of doggy poo,
Which he clutched and looked around,
Unsure of what he next would do.
Beyond the fence and out of reach,
A trashcan on the street
Sat waiting for deposits
So the sidewalks would stay neat.
Too lazy to walk over,
He reached back and made a toss,
Knowing that, most likely, he could get
That doggy bag across.
I watched it sail and with a plop,
Land, not inside the can,
But on the ground right next to it,
Not following his plan.
I stopped myself from yelling out
A simple message: “Missed!’
Since those entitled might be
Unpredictable when pissed.
The way the world is nowadays,
You have to watch your back,
For those who get away with things
Are likely to attack.
Today's world is such a mess
With evils integration
We see daily the list of lies
Beyond investigation
And yet above us flies the flag
That denies lies infestation
Taking us where injustice cries
Of greeds determination
Education comes disguised
As honesties demonstration
Using tools that often deny
For the sake of ostracization
Giving reason to the words
Of prejudice inflammation
Joining ideals of false accusers
They invent instigation
We ask why the cause of certain ones
to have this type of fixation
The reason given this time around
Because of there migration
Quiet goes the unaware
Given to hesitation
While even comes to the extreme
Of the livings extermination
The bridge too far has been crossed
With flagrant allegations
Leaders are chosen and given charge
Of wild extreme vexations
But almost goes to the cause
Of evils infiltration
Thanks to God for concerns
We find through Revelation
Asinine Asymmetry
abysmal
vapid
pedagogue
impulsive
advocacy
with FLUSTERED TORRENTS
blindly
indicting
scapegoats
subpar
dogmatist
in DEMONIC DIATRIBE
eschewing
impartial
testament
veracity
disparaged
Asinine Asymmetry
raucous
sweeping
presage
emanating
palpably
from VEHEMENT ESPOUSER
flagrant
vacuous
utterance
neurotic
trivialist
with FATUOUS FLAMBOYANCE
underpinning
risible
posture
detachment
anathema
I sit, this morn, on the bed of
A dried-up rivulet,
Head-bent and full of compunction.
It’s clam-quiet except for the impatient
Squawks above which prompt my heartbeat.
I raise my head, heavy with grief.
Climbers and weevils align in a silent choir,
Singing with precision the lines of a forgotten
Mirth.
It’s 5 o’clock in the morning — a time when
Cockcrows are loud enough to wake the dead.
I cringe and slink as I traipse about in the dead woods,
Among the cadavers of river plants, decimated,
Deserted, and vitiated through seasons’ flagrant ebb.
I see shadows that sing with their mouths tightly shut.
Like them all, I, too, am lonesome, and I draw about me
The dry waves of parched waters.
On my lips is a certain prayer — a revised edition of the
Paternoster.
Return, waters, return from the underrocks, I pray thee.
My sorrows are old and fragile.
Hoots and cries and stridulations beseech me.
I have picked my way among paths that
Cuddle the feet in sympathy and soothe
The souls that hide from the earnestness of
Sunrise.
Wash my dry naked feet, O waters,
And grease my palms so cracked from
Endless chafing.
They rise and sparkle and crackle,
Shaming the nakedness of the skies
And the city, with one frightful flame of
Youth,
Burning with the zest of
Seasonal lore.
At Christmas, they salute the days
Creamed by snow and sleet,
Thrusting in us the wisdom of
Global ceremonies.
They are the lightning of Yuletide —
Lightning unaccompanied by rain.
Shaped in balls and spears, and lean
Fragments of flagrant colours,
They are armed with their own thunder —
Thunder that speaks volumes and calms the rage in
Frenetic dogs.
They are coloured paints splashed lavishly across the broadest
Canvas ever —black and seamless
We see through their lens, the running dusts
Of sparks,
The dancing circus of sky-circuits
And the happy wars waged on the frontiers
Of seasons.
They strobe around the cold earth.
New Year’s Eve is riddled with conundrums,
Waking sleepy souls to sneeze up details of
A frazzled year.
The heavens are lit up lavishly,
Electrified to stupor,
Reminding us of choirs that chorus to the tunes
Of life everlasting.
Carousels ride through our minds, young now,
Old tomorrow,
With sparks that shine this moment
And dim the next.
Such is life.
feathers twirled,
long into the night.
ebonic ink,
splotched and saturated,
with the heart’s content.
t
e
a
r
s
created the first draft
of watercolors,
s
e
a
r
i
n
g
of the candlelight vigil,
long forgotten grief,
h
o
w
e
v
e
r
God never
f
o
r
g
e
t
s
He bottles up the flagrant fluid
of our awfulness, kept for
the day of wrath. Careless,
never; He eyes antiquity.
A dark night canvas over the North,
swirls a fountain of myriad colors.
Changing shades in majestic slither,
a cascade of light in the flagrant skies.
Pale purple waves dance in symphony
with the moonwalk of pink roses in green,
Specks of silver shimmering in gentle lilt
like phosphorus angels in perfect style.
Hundred million stars in their lunar glow
beams of wilderness in a chromatic oasis
Discarded dreams in my nebula heart
A fantasy is born from the celestial souvenir.
Cosmic hues of the Aurora Borealis
Unforgettable moments only reminisce.
Above the highest mountains of grandeur
Gracing fertile valleys of great worth
Wings a heavenly message most urgent
For all inhabitants of the earth
A message with evangelical wings
That yields neither to despot nor king
Exposing mortals' nefarious sins
Threatening earthly shenanigans
A message that strikes with dynamic force
Against evil's quest for flagrant wrongs
Will not crumble before motley concourse
Immune to injustice's deadly thorns
Message spoken by a prophet of old
Sets forth a noble and worthy goal
Writes a profound message with heart and soul
What humanity is to uphold
The message from above to humankind
Speaks of justice, doing what is right
Loving mercy, a grace gift most profound
And walk humbly with God in His light
**********
Inspired by the Old Testament Prophet
Micah 6:8, "He has shown you,
O mortal, what is good, And what does the
LORD require of you But to do justly, To
love mercy, And to walk humbly with your God. (NIV)
Things are so quiet
Letters don’t soar
No one talks at all
They try but they fail
Inaudible words excel
Forever i think that words don’t have sound
Only emotions can turn the world around
That's what we were taught
We were taught that we shall be silenced
That words won’t break us free
That we should take actions
We were taught to throw the first punch
Instead of using our words, we used anger
To satisfy our vengeance hunger
We weren't taught good actions from bad
We were praised for having violence
And bad emotions targeting people
We were taught that words were flagrant and should be banned
We silenced the only people who took a good stand
We were too scared so we didn’t talk
So whenever someone used words
We were desperately shocked
Even though some who visited never knew that we could understand
Or hear the words they used
Words do hurt I may say
But i’d rather hear those distressing words meant to hurt
Than be silenced and have no stand
So that day I got up too
I used my words
Those thoughts I kept in for so long
I Spoke my mind forever as time will go on
-Dawn.B
I hear the cries of all the babies & feel
the pain of a nation torn
Some can't see the struggle of all the
people but will feel the chaos born
They've sworn to uphold rights but
turn eyes to what is wrong
Karma is a dog with a hungry mouth
& it won't starve for very long
The jaws of the beast applies pressure
& some succumb to flagrant bites
Remember that pressure creates diamonds
but you must endure to shine your light
The struggle is as real as the push & pull
so stay centered to maintain the balance
It's a struggle to stay centered in a dual
reality but you must accept the challenge
Drink from a chalice that brings life not
from a cup you know is dry
Fill yourself will waters from the divine
& pour with intent to reach the sky
The end is nigh but so are beginnings
that will change a lot of views
The most high has seen it all peering
through eyes possessed by all of you
Barbarity's own Deity,
The "Black Knight" of perversity:
Ascending through gross ignorance,
Descending on to Hell's province.
This callous god despises light
And seeks the deepest, darkest night.
It spawns a cult of terrorists -
Impoverished, soulless separatists.
This cunning god invites the "lost"
To join its cause, but at what cost?
It sacrifices human fate
For what its creed would consecrate.
This corrupt god projects this trait:
Its mission is to promote hate.
It draws the worst from human ties -
Despicable through flagrant lies.
A "counter faith" to those we know,
It stands alone - allowed to grow
From seeds of immorality
To acts of dire depravity.
What frames the Terrorists discourse
That causes pain without remorse?
This Deity of coarsest fame
Whose imfamy has claimed its name.
She haunted me as a child,
Staring quietly from her watercolor world.
Her strange presence called me.
Powder-white skin and rouge cheeks,
Pencil-thin brow over
Dark-rimmed eyes
Shedding a single tear,
A pale rose between slender fingers,
Seeking its fragrance.
Quietly she slipped away,
I never asked after her.
Years later, her likeness appears.
Same raven cap,
Impossibly flagrant and frosty ruffles,
Porcelain cheeks without a hint of blush
Wide eyes tinged with sorrow,
Flowerless hands,
Her watercolor world mixed to black.
Then they came to me, together,
A dark evening in Paris.
Delicate in their lightness,
Impishly prancing in the streetlights
As if giddy with some tantalizing secret.
The first hands me her rose
As she cups my face,
“Dear one.”
They move to either side,
Taking my hands
And we run.
We run until we reach a dimly lit park
Where we sit cross-legged in the damp grass
Silent except for the panting of labored breaths
Returning to their natural rhythm.
“Tears bring fullness to life.”
They wandered off into the night
As suddenly as they had come.
Leaving me to deliver their rose
And share my tears with the people.
I faced this man, looking like a portrait,
I heard him whisper from heart straight.
You’re bold and flagrant frank,
voice vibrates with cadence of confident airs,
you’re logical, at times tangentially crank,
eyes encase dulcet dreams, at times tears
In the latent lattice of intricate design,
layer on layer, your mind is stratified,
the sanguine strata of all assorted hues align,
unique psychic patterns are unified.
Many aspects of singular distinction hide
within the network of your mind’s cipher layers,
can’t be decoded by the world outside,
the reticent sense of silent self never cares.
An insular captive of your mental making,
you’re you, an inimitable loner,
in your lane you see the aliens walk forsaking,
you’re defined by your essence sober.
These are the entity attributes of you people view,
different from the rest around you, for you’re you.
I looked at the portrait somewhat closer,
saw this man stare at me from the mirror.
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