01/28
Once in a great while the heart is simply struck
And rings out like a tuning fork to the nearby heart that struck it.
The two ring out together in discordant harmony
At first the noise is nothing but a brilliant symphony.
In time the notes come clearer, but this is when you hear
The sharps and flats and missed half-steps which at first endeared
How I wish that I could sing a song you would believe
But I’d not disguise the cracking sound of notes I can’t sustain.
The songs we sing into the world are bright and clear and true,
But you are right, I am afraid, I cannot sing like you.
How I hope that I might somehow match
The soaring high soprano that will surely be your path.
I must be a tenor, not that either is the lesser,
You’ve said the difference means that parting might be better.
I would miss you and I will mourn if no arrangement can be made,
But I think you’ll always strike me from your side of the stage.
Contest : J With Four Options
Sponsor : Constance La France
Date : August 9, 2025
The unseen glow of omnipresent divine light
floods my possessed essence, but I don’t perceive,
for I invent free-will tenets shaping ego
in the realm of fantasized self-deception.
The stain of murky disdain blemishes my face,
I traverse the slimy ground of cardinal mud.
Life is stifled by corrupt clutch hidden within,
in penitence I feel the spiteful pangs of pain.
I travel unshackled out of despair abyss
on the journey within through consciousness layers,
perceive in the soul the flush of divine beacon,
lighting the corridor to the abode of bliss.
The ill-conceived venture of the errant mind
finds gloomy dead-end in the introspection path.
That’s when the door of the inner sanctum opens,
where the lotus blooms suffused with heavenly sheen.
The soul shines with astral radiance in deep space
with the flaring brilliance of a billion suns.
In my self-searching voyage to eternity
the inner galaxy makes me a living light.
In the opaque night across the space of silence,
enfolding the languid landscape of my existence,
bereft of the beguiled essence in indolent life,
my pathway meanders in the labyrinth of torment.
Trudging at the fringe of trying forbearance,
I hear listless the whispering wind of wisdom
tell me, this journey has no meaningful end.
I’m entangled in the nebulous mesh of ambiguity.
The ill-conceived venture of the errant mind
finds gloomy dead end in the introspection path.
That’s when the serpentine force opens the innate door,
releasing the feminine energy of yogic awareness.
My soul shines then with the ethereal radiance
in the infinite depth of the discernment space,
like the flaring brilliance of dormant tantric power,
flashing through the seven chakras of perception.
In my self-searching spiritual odyssey
toward the edge of the enlightened eternity,
I perceive the acuity centres configure consciousness
and turn it into living beacon, lighting my inner self.
A Hall of Mirrors
ill conceived
With dark reflections
to deceive
From front or back
and side to side
Each look impounds
what time proscribes
Were you looking in
or looking out
When Alice voiced
her final shout
A dozen clonings
a thousand views
The glass your jailer
— in silver hues
(Dreamsleep: June, 2025)
.
No Way Out
A genie in the bottle to grant my wishes—
I’m drifting,
looking for the red exit sign.
My desire for freedom waning
like the moon reflected in hues of blue
on the glass
of a Klein bottle:
A line begins,
yet never ends,
curling inward,
outward.
The terrarium of my life
shelved between the dust motes of indifference—
dancing ill-conceived clichés in soporific sunbeams—
it’s a mere curiosity …
Words chocked back,
thoughts lost
in the
labyrinth …
Some words we say are ill-conceived,
and once spoken can’t be retrieved.
If our words inflame,
we should feel shame,
and feel remorse toward those peeved.
Atop fields of sunflowers
dragonflies and a young Fairy
were playing: whiling away the hours,
laughing and being merry.
It is generally believed
that fairies protect sunflowers.
Plans to pick one would be ill-conceived,
young fairies wield great powers.
Scarlet inks, a setting sun,
as ebony fills silhouettes.
And a breeze brings an end to their fun,
gusting strong, as the Sun sets.
Dragonfly and Fairy take wing,
vanishing with the setting sun.
While crickets chirp, the nightingales sing,
and shadows merge into one.
fulfillment is achieved,
when all is said and done, by the trek not the prize
ill conceived.
as way forward
when it's not a shallow, hollowed
reward
chest task
as memento
mask
fulfillment is achieved
when it's not a shallow, hollowed
mask
Hungarious herbanamed hairchinned humanoid!
This tungstanesk triumph – to some thanatoid…
Mathematicos marvel: mention “nontotiet!”
But Basil-based bullters bothered? Outbleat???
For functioning fully at family functions,
requires restrained raconteurial unctions.
Propensities/properties you outpossess.
injurious idiot’s ill-conceived jest…
No! Never negating nine-tenths of nonplussed,
because Basil-boy, your bingeworthy bust,
should stand sentry in stone for descendants yet born,
And for you to admire, while mowing the lawn.
Wear a rainbow
and not a cloak nor helmet --
let God's Light in~ permeate
one's being from head to toes
God is no Separatist!
His favorites
those who love
unconditionally --
He prefers neither stature
nor color, man's own
created tints and measures --
We make our worlds
in ways unimaginable
Evil are our own footsteps
and thoughts, for we choose
direction and capacity, that
which our hearts hold dear
or discard
all natural disasters
physical fallacies
are, in fact, quakes of the human
soul in spiritual turmoil
let our nature be free from
sin -- free from the politics
of fear....
Know your power
know that we are heirs
of The Most High --
We will love or perish
by weapons of our own
ill conceived alternatives
not for the will nor by
the Hand of God --
Caffeine
Soothe my nerves
Soothe my soul
Like a cup of gold
Black as an ace
Bitter as aloe
Increase the adrenaline
Up the heart rate
Low blood pressure treats
Decaff is a joke
Ill-conceived beverage
Makes me want to choke
By Cathrin Stuart
The self-obsessive free-will ever seemingly dormant,
envelopes the mind with an illusory veil transient,
obscures the decreed destination God ordains,
l need to reach, for I should submissively at His will.
The camouflaged glow of the omnipresent light
floods my possessed quintessence, but I don’t discern,
for I formulate the free-rule tenets enslaving the ego
in the revered realm of fantasized self-deception.
I travel unshackled out of the dark abyss of despair,
on inward journey through the layers of awareness,
perceive in the soul the shimmer of the divine beacon,
lighting up the lane leading to the abode of bliss.
When the ill-conceived endeavor of the migrant mind
finds the dead end dark in the introspective pensive path,
the prime portal of the innate consciousness opens,
where the essence blooms permeated by divine light.
My soul shines with astral radiance in the space within
with the flaring brilliance of thousand suns,
in my self-searching odyssey at the edge of eternity
I’m illumined by heavenly galaxy in the inner sanctum.
The self-obsessive free will seemingly dormant,
envelopes the mind with an unreal veil transient,
obscures the ordained pathway God paves,
that l need to travel for it’s designed at His will.
The unseen glow of the omnipresent light
floods my possessed essence, but I don’t discern,
for I formulate life’s tenets encompassing the ego
in the ignorant realm of fantasized self-deception.
Unshackled out of the dark abyss of despair, I take
an inward journey through layers of consciousness,
perceive in the soul the radiance of divine beacon,
illumining the corridor leading to the abode of bliss.
After the ill-conceived venture the errant mind
finds the gloomy path of introspection lightened,
the secret door of the inner sanctum opens,
where suffused with divine light the lotus blooms.
When the soul shines in spiritual glow in inner space
as the unfurled petals of the consciousness flower,
in my self-searching odyssey at the edge of eternity
I perceive the grace of God within the sacred bud.
__________________
August 26, 2022
Contest : Where Is God Hiding
Sponsored by : Unseeking Seeker
The reflex of ego is to go toe to toe with evil.
The more mental bloodshed, the better...
But ego is a sloppy plodder with ill-conceived plans.
Its artwork is far from perfected.
Too often the victory is short-lived.
And ego - easily detected.
Evil will always come back around.
The circle is its favorite shape.
Endless nothingness- its favorite sound.
It's better to let the big cat do your dirty work.
It's been tracking down evil since time was an infant.
The big cat is steady-stealthy-methodical-star silent.
Until the final pounce.
A quick bite to its fat neck will bring evil to the ground.
Since the big cat is undetectable and evil is oblivious.
It won't ever know what bit it.
It will be forever hamstrung and never circle back.
For the big cat, karma is a circle slasher...
Commission her to paint your next revenge.
Could you tell me
when
America became so selfish, introspective,
a host of clueless, unrealistic fools,
that see only ourselves above all others,
sole contemporaries of time and history?
When
did we forget the points and purpose of freedom
to follow one man's power hungry dream,
ill-conceived?
When
did the cost of freedom give way
to the conspiracies of delusionary sways
cutting back the realities of the day?
When
did we hold fast to a lie,
never seeking truth
pushing fact aside, truth denied?
When
did we stop caring about the future free
within folds of democracy
for our children and their hopes and dreams?
When
will we ever learn from history
its lessons
that freedom isn't free,
there is a price to pay
in everything we do,
in everything we say,
we must act not just pray
before it all slips away.
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