Heed inner vocal prompt,
hear that subtle whisper,
hidden compass beneath,
hand or heart to self oath,
hovers above dumb delay,
hindsight a red faced blush,
hapless one, null and void
Harvest of well-being,
happens to tender souls,
hinging on trusted gut’s,
honey pot lucky lure,
healing ache sedative,
halcyon phase ensues,
hoist a mirthful flag wave
Install a frame of mind,
include grand fitting goals,
imagine true triumph,
imbued with lavish heart,
instant rapport on switch,
ignites widespread blue flame,
instinct, root source ally
You can scream, 'cause you know
Nowhere else for you to go.
You can kill, pull a knife,
Point a gun, take a life.
But in the end, all will see,
You're a curse to their humanity.
The celeb spell that you cast
Made of nothing but tawdry glass.
You want life 'cause you know
Your money is nothing but a show.
We see your face, know your mind,
The rabid beast in your mankind.
Say you're better than the rest,
Hoist your flag, beat your chest.
Steal the land, poisoned soil,
Drunk on wine, while children toil.
Your masses on popcorn feast,
Worshiping their threadneedle beast.
Take a walk, hug a tree,
Know how life is meant to be.
Don't be caught, in their game.
More you watch, more they tame.
Dumb you down, make you weak,
Breath of innocence the ghouls all seek.
But Alpha Omega knows the plan
Here long before their race began.
Ghoulish time is short, built on tears
Their count in days, months, and years.
Bloody empires, we watched them fall,
Like their savage coliseum wall.
Life you choose, better, or worse,
In, or out, their hologram universe.
Joanna Davis
4th July 2026
Reedth speaketh me listen
to this creaking squeaking tree
it make a bassoon proud
to speak out loud in detail
the things I see.
Speaketh me as wonderer
here in the edgy field
the moans and groans of
a tree so large
could frighten a person
to chills
fright not weary one
as I know the happenings here
the fibers within
bend with the wind
this trees end could be near
dense the wood
strong fibers too
might I brag that
it's a Black Ironwood tree
most dense of all the tree's
it was a present from
a host, a hoist that
gifted me.
It shall be felled
harvested
and made into tables and chairs
you look at me with
disappointment
do you wish the wind to prevail
oh i understand
you wish it to be fashioned
from this tree
a bassoon for those envy us
crafted for the world to see.
It expense will make
all who want
stop with a look upon there face
envy of unobtainable things
Envy and Grace
profound lyrical themes used
to explore the balance tween
artistic ambition, comparison,
Passion and redemption
{Poet’s Note : Fourth Poem of Set of 5 SPOKEN WORD poems written in SAPPHIC STANZAS }
____________________
Life offers to support, first open to Love’s thorns
Sun not changeable, hands to give of own horns
centre in flesh where patience and Spirit mingle
Heart is where they jingle
World our mirror, transparency it holds bold
magical meanings with musical moments emit
highest are those whose existence is not known
hoist ideals beauty sown
We will say, Sisters! we ourselves have achieved
opalescent Sacred Sun wants figures of eight
firmly in lap of luxury, the bait
to lament no more
Brothers no longer hold score, treasure inside
entire planet home, Lesbos to Egypt, no hide
see crystal clear with fine papyrus and ink
so very dear, cheer
Universal power arranges spacious
awareness without thoughts jumbled enchanting
awe at abundant good fortune Heart opened receptive we sing
At wedding feasts nothing further needs adding
Femmes ! to moment sway not nay, syrtos in hay
stepping back to allow for Spirit’s addition
groom in white and black
Union is You _________>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Well, yo ho ho and it is mutiny for us.
Toss the captain overboard, nothing to discuss.
We’ve had enough of orders, break the chain of commands.
If he wants to argue, there’s the back of your hand.
Sailing on the seven, hoist the sails ’gainst the wind.
We don’t need to navigate the coast.
Open up the bottles, drink the whiskey and gin.
To the health of Davy Jones we’ll toast.
Well, yo ho ho and now the treasure is all ours.
Gold and silver shining, can’t you feel the power?
The world is ours, me matey! Take it by the throat!
Nothing more can harm us, as long as we can float.
Sailing on the seven, the wind against our backs.
We don’t need to fear the captain’s ghost.
Cannon on our starboard! We’ll never pay the tax!
To the health of Davy Jones we’ll toast.
Well, yo ho ho, me matey, pass the bottle on.
We’ll take our turns at sipping ‘til it all is gone.
Feel the bitter burning as it slides down your throat
Then toss it on the fire so we can load the boats.
Sailing on the seven with chanteys on our lips,
Stay ahead of all the Navy hosts!
Keep a wary eye out for some rich merchants’ ships.
To the health of Davy Jones we’ll toast.
A misfit in Liverpool
I think of oranges, and saw a painting by Constable of a morning sun
that looked like blood orange dripping nectar down on some
Fishermen are trying to catch eels on the dark surface in the bay.
There were sail ships too, ready to hoist sail in the morning wind.
When I lived in England, I met several police constables, most
of them, nice blokes, alas, during the miners´ strike, they became
radicalized, they had a good talking to by those higher up, and
were also promised plenty of overtime.
John, the constable, - fifteen years on the beat and no promotion-
A friend of mine refused to partake in hitting miners over the head,
He continued his lonely beat, but at the station, he was ostracised,
a lonely figure in need of a friend- He often came into my cafe after
hours and we drank vodka with orange juice, lamenting the time we
lived in. John retired early, and I sold my cafe.
Before We Die
We hope to leave in good standing
And pray for a happy landing
Let death do us part, be in the Lord's hand
Let His guidance take us to the promised Land
As the final supper touches, my fears
I hoist my glass and fight back the tears
There won't be another candlelight
As this will be my last quest and night
I look out at the moon and stars for the final time
And smack my lips into a rhyme
Oh, when the saints come marching in
Let the trumpet sound its call, for I have begun to spin
I muster my strength to straighten out my lip
But the meds are quickly sinking my ship
The stars are moving fast
Right before my eyes, I see my past
My dwelling finds me as a failed poet
There's no telling, and everyone knows it
The seasons and years never changed from winter
Oh Lord, please don't allow me to reenter
I take the final walk to my resting place
I brace the walls and collapse on my face
There's no waking up; the ship has lost its float
For the book is now closed, that's all she wrote
connie pachecho
10/15/25
Trader: wares of merchants.
Where do you keep at night?
Demagogue, hold back thy rants!
Oracle, thy sight!
Weathervane, point northward?
The master deals in snow?
Prisoner, hoist thy petard!
Chains, perform a tow...
Remember the moment?
Depends on what it had.
Far-flung fate to foment!
Fair flicker, O my fad!
Tremendous the tempered tale?
Metamorphic shale.
Fortune, got the time to fail?
Get thy garbage pail.
Prophet, poet, poison.
O serpent, hiss in time.
Rhyme and riddle, ricin.
Wind, blow hard the chime.
Eagle, ergo. Weal and woof.
Steady blows the storm.
Shingles, cover well. Hoof? Roof!
Wicker man, mare, warm...
Snail, thy trail. Never end, cur.
Mongrel, bite down hard.
Reminiscence! Where we were!
Orion, thy shard...
Proud poets parade playful wordy wit,
Their careful craft becomes just diddly s..t.
No matter how hard we may try
Can’t outdo IQ of AI.
Shall we hoist the white flag and run with it?!
Digital era deemed undignified,
As bright grey matter becomes atrophied.
Before the mindset goes awry,
We shall eschew diddly AI -
Its fatuous facade is dead inside!
TO RIVERS OF BABYLON AND ZION SHORES next (Apropos Of A Nona Tanka)
Be aware of this,
We’ve all survived worse:
All ethnicities;
Present day oppressive times
Will also be overcome:-
We’re not a kingdom,
All here are here equally,
And destined to be:-
These oppressive times today,
We must send them on their way:-
These Babylon days,
Shall likewise be cascaded
Into liberty:
We are of Zion sailings;
Liberation shores waiting:-
Come, Babylon child,
Let’s rise up and set our sails;
A new day coming:
We conquering these waters
Of Babylon with justice
Rise up my people,
We have sailing chores to do;
There’s no resting now:-
God’s chartered the way for us;
It’s time to get back on course:-
God’s navigating,
Let us just get to sailing;
The shores are waiting:
Let waves of change froth us on,
With God's wisdom and guidance:-
Remember Zion,
God’s the wind in our sails, too;
Let us sail onwards:
Sailing the ancestral way,
To justice and equity:-
Time to hoist our sails
Into coming winds of change
Sailing likewise waves:
Oppressive Babylon ways,
Daily splashed with Zion froth:-
A misfit in Liverpool
I think of oranges when I see a painting by Constable of a morning sun
that looked like blood orange dripping nectar down on some
fishermen trying to catch eels on the dark surface of the bay.
There were sail-ships too ready to hoist sail in the morning wind.
When I lived in England, I met several police constables, most
of them, nice blokes, but during the miners´ strike, they became
radicalized, they had a good talking to by those higher up and
were also promised plenty of overtime.
John, a police constable fifteen years on the beat and no promotion-
a friend of mine refused to partake in hitting miners over the head,
he continued his lonely beat, but at the station, he was ostracised,
a lonely figure in need of a friend- He often came into my cafe after
hours, we drank vodka with orange juice, lamenting the time we lived in. John took early retirement, and I sold my cafe.
When do you decide to stand and fight
When do you not let them walk all over you
When do you take pride in you
When will it all come around
After you have cried useless tears
Lost sleep
Revolve on what ifs
The secneios all so scary
What will it take
When you are Contemplating suicide
When you are feeling so low even those around can't bring you above the deep
Those few you let influence you
Happingly take their feet on your face
I don't care what you have done
How you have failed
You dont deserve to be treated like crap
You are way to special
Way to beautiful
Way to wonderful
To let others take you down
Fuel your demons
I've been there at the end of a rope literally
I've tried to end all their suffering
But it is their suffering not yours
Not for them to decide
This is your life be grateful be gracious be strong
Carry on hoist your weight above your head and fight
Because drowning is not the answer
You are much more.
Vikings in their sailing ships.
The ocean is their home.
Another of their ”buisiness” trips.
To new lands they will roam.
Hoist the sails, pull the oars.
Hone the axe and knife.
Brand new places to explore.
They love the viking life.
And it’s hey! Ho! Away they go!
O’er the horizon and gone.
The tide will ebb, the tide will flow.
Still, they sail on...
Vikings on their vessels true
Under cloudless skies.
The lookout cries, “Land in view!”
Sleepy sailors rise.
Beach the boat, jump ashore.
The village, yonder, waits.
Then say a thankful prayer to Thor.
The viking life is great!
And it’s hey! Ho! Away they go!
O’er the horizon and gone.
The tide will ebb, the tide will flow.
Still, they sail on...
But it is not all games and fun.
The captain can be a jerk.
But after all is said and done
They still love their work!
And it’s hey! Ho! Away they go!
O’er the horizon and gone.
The tide will ebb, the tide will flow.
Still, they sail on...
have to screw it down
tightly lately
being often lighter than air
it tends to float
it gets stuck somewhere
maybe in tree limbs
or under a parked car on a rainy day
then again it often feels
like a 100 pounds of suet
a drag to carry around
so daily i screw it if its floats
or lift it up on a hoist
to drain off all the kind of bull crap
any soul can pick up
when it rolls around in the mud
like a flop-eared hound dog
i tell it that it is most certainly real
however
unfortunately
i am not
being only a deranged
figment of its imagination
and that i am sorry
about all the
screwing
lifting
draining and dragging
then it rests for a while
with a smile on my face
If Harris chooses to have beer,
They hoist a message more than mere,
It’s like October Fest
In November, no haste!
Sails rudderless poll boat,
Who knows how people vote?
Guesses gallop, go in top gear.
_____________________
Tongue-in-cheek |10.10.2024| humour, political
Poet’s note: Kamala Harris in a media blitzkrieg on late night TV chooses to down a folksy beer to ‘send a masculine oriented message’ (in competition with Trump?). And poll analysts go in a top gear to derive its impact on Nov election results in US of America. So much focus, so much significance of that one can of beer!
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