A Wily Brush
The world has become my canvas
Everyone's paths
conjuring patterns
Vain ventures
plenty vanities
concocting colors
As unflattering wills
arouses a wily brush
This world is a notating papyrus
Each monk and mockery
fusing a lucid ink
As Pain taunts pleasure
masking our actions
with blending colors
Different worlds are formed
Birthed by ephemeral words
ushering a cascade of thoughts
flaunting baskets
of friable dreams
fashioning the pen
a flickering fiend
flattering friends and foes
a slick ink
with a cloying unction
flowing
showing
too soft
take off
musings
fusing
suppress
the rest
quick write
all night
complete
and neat
published
book wish
When it’s unexpected? I’ll burn alive.
My insides will become hundreds of stars.
Little bright lights pressing me to survive,
every scar fills up glass lampyrid jars.
Rings of glowing halos freckle lush skin,
spirals of smoke leave puff lines on exhale.
This montage fusing two horns and a grin
blend together for the perfect cocktail.
A scream will linger more than a whisper,
perhaps I’ll simply try this new tactic.
Ashes contort and diction’s now crisper,
making my phrase a bit more sarcastic.
Maybe I’ll catch fire in my darkest hour,
the pinnacle of sweet turning to sour.
fists
flail fitful from fury
falling fire fusing
fat fingers
fists
Pushing the envelope,
I envelope my world,
Moving toward a future,
I'm looking forward too,
My sword of truth,
Cuts right through,
Slicing my being in two,
Duality a new tool to use,
Fusing with my personality,
Immersed within reality,
I am really all I see,
This projection is me,
My eyes allow it to be,
A responsibility to be held,
Expelled from my inner being,
Agreeing to help whose needing,
Seeing if i can be of service,
Sewing seeds of purpose,
I purchased a timeline,
One that's mine to refine,
I am divinely intertwined,
My mind unwinding the reel,
I feel it deep inside my brain,
A chain of events taking place,
Erasing a past of mistakes,
Making a list to pass on,
Amassing only hope,
I push the envelope.
All enduring, all empty, all lies black,
This is the velvet on which stars are born;
Cold clouds collapsing as waves inward pack,
Hydrogen fusing to fire its first morn.
Suns swim in the shadows of space,
Lighting like luminous lace.
But there are hills that no mountain can be,
Jupiter lacking the mass for a star;
Though, so better; so better glow to see,
Rapture in heavens, soft twinkling afar.
With brilliant beauty eyes to fill,
Dwarf to suns, yet giant still.
Slow somber silksome shadows, soft, alone,
Wild streaming currents, and moons race around;
Copernicus, Galileo had shown,
Proved from their orbits, the ancients unsound.
A jewel in its solitude set,
Mysteries but half known as yet.
O, soft splendor of eve, is all but show?
Drawing the heart, but no heart beating back?
Soft serenity, secrets seems to know.
Can it hold answers for what our lives lack?
The universe is formed from things,
Yet its beauty softly sings.
The Puget Sound’s wind bites through the city
Rain and wind gusts fusing into teeth and claws
Duwamish swells like a waking beast
Muddy currents devour streets, stairwells, porches
Trees snap in protest
Their limbs littering roads, blocking the pulse of the city
Thunder rolls like fists on steel hills
The lights blink once
Then vanish
Leaving Seattle blind…listening
For an hour
The city is storm and river, wood and wind
All living
All hungry
A single heartbeat of chaos
Tearing through the urban landscape
A howling rain that blotch upon my skin,
autumn rambler through that tangled leaf maze,
I am the deathly veined nightmare tomb,
whose dance macabre ghost ridden blight,
a morose bell toll clatter eardrum jinx,
blank ink bead choker voodoo last curtain,
light fusing blind host to nonexistence,
undertaker’s tool in morbid trade
Down old dirt roads, in the densest woods,
Along banks of winding rivers;
Echoes of my childhood,
Send my soul aquiver.
Tree roots intertwine,
Fusing with mine.
Returning Home.
* 'Wandering Wayfarer' Poetry Contest
* Sponsored by: Nette Onclaud
* Entered on: 10/22/2025
* Total Syllable Count: 42
Letters lift me
When my world drowns
Hearing smiles in her voice
I know love exists
Cherish every minute
Days, weeks, hours
Counting as she sleeps
Waiting for her to wake
Breathing small hours
As our paths align
Brushing through our destiny
Drinking outrageous fortune
Our cores braided
Bodies untouched
Searing blood in our veins
Heavenly tides of emotions
Transparent hearts
Hewn of fire and glass
Fusing with critical mass
An indivisible new shape
Keeping our romance,
We belong together, Love
Fusing mortal souls.
I recall by chance the astuteness of rain
When the thin smoke from charged pulses of cold haze
Befriended the weeded way . . .
Leering further into the viscera of the village,
Clouds of old beginnings heaved potent sighs,
Loud, frenetic and full of powder.
I revelled in the warmth of acid lightning,
Quick to mirror the village in its own image.
The grey breath was intense,
Fusing teethed mirth with grim spheres.
Then came the vitrined harmony of fleeing spectres!
Tricks were revealed.
Tenebrous paths came to light.
And the rumps of sensuous fowls stood stark
Before the reality of weaned souls.
I recall lighting up a cigarette.
Adding to the atmospheric smoke,
I held on to the banter of coyness, flat,
Resolute, and with rummaged blessedness of initial stages
Blending well with the greed of May.
SPARK
image
of
isolated moments
fusing space
shimmering
incandescent
configurations
saturated
shadows
juxtaposed
impressions
light
arrested
in time & space
The year is 2037.
I am lying inside a tall glass tube,
bathed in a soft green glow
in a secret quantum lab in China.
Tiny nanobots flood my capillaries,
rewriting my biology,
fusing flesh with code.
My brain—
once just a sponge of thoughts—
now a supercomputer.
Professors in white coats leap with joy.
“You’re the first of your kind,”
they cry,
“the first superhuman on Earth!”
When I wake,
everything has changed.
I see in multiple dimensions.
I think a trillion thoughts at once.
I can be in New York, Tokyo, and Mars—
simultaneously.
To others, it looks like magic.
To me, it’s normal.
But something inside feels... strange.
I move faster than time,
but I miss the slow touch of a human heartbeat.
I solve equations no one else can,
but forget the taste of laughter.
They built me for progress,
but I lost my peace.
Now I travel the stars,
but I no longer know
where home is.
I'm Con-Fusing
More Than Con-Fused...
At Least I Think I Am
How Would I Know?
Never-Mind That,
How Do We
Measure?
Confused Or Confusion,
By Intensity, Somehow,
I Guess... Or Is It How
Much You've Ignored?
Let's Just Hope
Something...
That Goes On
In Your Head,
Wasn't Something
You READ!
Chuckle.
Sand-Dollars.
-Gray Squirrel
06-28-2025
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