Love is alike a whisper among the deaf and a light among the blind. Many have claimed to understand it and many have claim to be apart of it but alike religion, they all seem to fall short of scripture.
Love unites us all is what they say according to the rational of those claiming to be within the grasps of these inauspicious schisms as they are coddled betwixt irony and self indulgence.
Your love is salvaged only by the reluctant anecdote of those accused and in favor of self-actualization.
Their love is not only a topic of mass hysteria brought forth by the fraudulent offspring of timeless arrogance but "love" is also a wedge between free will and the limitations prevailed by hatreds depth.
Love, is beyond the reckoning of dimensional rifts and broken spatial constructs contiguous by the darkness of man born antipathy.
This is the love you idolize and seek victory within.
This is the love you claim as a self redeeming gift.
This is the love you can only grasp tangibly and without rapport.
My love, wasn't
It's a divine quality. It demands inner stasis
Iron-hard mind, petrified with pessimism, is altered
Ego gives way; generous grace cells form a fine basis.
Inauspicious elements of selfishness get faltered
As from freshly transplanted seedlings, there's transformation
Noble feelings, attitudes, and behaviours, like spring, thrive.
Resentment giving way to kindness, there's new creation
Elevated needs and enhanced optimism are alive
Sows hope-filled seeds of the future, decreasing depression
Like new wine in a new skin, angles of outlook alter
Repentance, reconciliation, and restoration
Lead to restitution and redemption with no falter.
Soul, like jubilant birds in the blue sky, is exultant
Within, divine graces, like flooding rivers, are abundant.
DIPICTIONS
an
inauspicious
distorting
suspicion
with
a
frightening
determination
but
with
a
profound
belonging
stricken
shielding
a
remembered
entitlement
an
aptitude
emphasised
by
cariacture
&
parody
a distorted
arrogance
so
prominent
so
invalid
&
bewitching
As I look back on the torrent winds of the fate that mars my mind.
Back at the measured erosion of my convictions.
Back at the losing elements of my loving drive to conquer.
Back on the relationships that drown in a river of tears.
A river of tears that precariously became a barren desert to my soul.
Back on the temptest of my sins.
Now through the secretive forest of time do I see the inauspicious path I've traveled.
I have succumbed to my fate and do not have any more sessions of dreams being a righteous conqueror.
No more sessions of dreams to be a righteous anything.
Feeble is my spirit as I continue my travel down this inauspicious path.
No longer shall I allow myself to sniff at the fragrance of hope.
No longer shall I allow myself to look at the sun through ill-omened branches.
A baleful and ominous future I do embrace, for my passion for life is bleak as I move swiftly down this inauspicious path.
Copyright January 21, 2017
Was it Mercury in retrograde,
Or the moon in Capricorn?
Did my horoscope predict this fate?
Was it destined the day I was born?
When love let me down
I was walking the track
With a train coming on,
And a bullseye on my back.
Was my magic crystal counterfeit?
My aura inauspicious?
Did the healing drum, and the circle dance,
And the sweat lodge not redeem us?
When love let me down
She’d done broken the bank
With no gold left to dig,
And no gas left in the tank.
It’s not transcendent wisdom,
Just common sense is all.
When a fantasy’s deflated
By acupuncture needles,
And the numerology doesn’t add up,
It can cause a man to stumble
On all the New Age mumbo-jumbo,
And lay him out spread-eagle, to his shame.
When love let me down
I got back on my feet.
Worked hard, bought a house,
Ended up on Easy Street.
Yeah, that’s the life for me.
A tuberculoid South African miner
Was lately turned down by fiancée Dinah;
What shall her decision change to also move Mount Sinai,
Her lover part time book binder
To better forget his trusted Prophetess Regina;
Very unlikely now to be a solution finder
For his being further diagnosed with life-threatening angina;
All too inauspicious to not dream of things getting finer
Even if he should clench a lucky visa to China
For nursing back his body progressively getting thinner
Or clinch the more health-protecting job of document signer
He’s a hunter
Says he’s in it for the money
Look at how he holds his rifle
A perfect picture ain’t it lovely
He’s a killer
But only if he needs to
Don’t resist your apprehension
It’s easier to just subdue you
He’s for hire
Doesn’t care what your belief is
His belief is moral agency’s
Philosophy that’s inauspicious
He’s amoral
Not hard to predict that he
Would be since when he was little
He watched while the cops killed his daddy
He’s a hunter
You’re the bounty
He’s the best there is though
So you can wear those chains proudly
June 5, 2020
Primordial ooze, bathtub booze, and unaligned chi
I've got nothing to lose, I see through the ruse, because I am free
I see the faintest glimmer begin to grow dimmer but I've got nowhere to be
While doubt slowly simmers hope also shimmers because it's not just me
While people walk by and they don't care why a man lays on the ground
While he lets out a cry like he's about to die they just amble around
Finally a kind soul lifts him out of the hole and the man makes no sound
His wounds took their toll, he was staring at Sheol but now he is unbound
Surreptitious and serendipitous
Adventitious and so precipitous
Are what make up this existence
Inauspicious and centicipitous
Supposititious and insignificance
Are what lie on the path of least resistance
I will imitate you if I want to, I say to the arrogant iceburg.
He sticks out his frosty tongue, and I show him the identical act.
You are an idiot he tells me, igniting my wrath.
No, I tell myself, I am immune to his irrevocable idiocy now.
I attempt to isolate myself from my feelings, inadvertently making them worse.
Iconic that he and I should be isolated in this territory.
An inauspicious attempt to reconcile us, by my family, I imagine.
I suddenly feel complete inanition; I am completely depleted.
Shall we continue this iterative dance, or find new partners? I ask him.
It is totally up to you, he says, so I give him one last kiss, and shove off.
All night I travel, in a dream…
asleep since midnight - plus sixteen.
A ghost train’s whistle, softly drawn
through orange-black at cusp of dawn.
The phantom locomotive chugs
with each and every stroke,
then crests the hill, going faster still,
churning out black ash and smoke.
From this smoke cloud falls a raindrop
though some might disagree,
say it’s called a devil’s teardrop,
but knowing which is key.
The truth is somehow mottled
and can scarcely be explained,
there’s no hand upon the throttle
nor conductor on the train.
Passing by a murky cornfield
where it seems we’ve been deceived,
witnessed by a tattered scarecrow
who will never be believed.
The fog hangs inauspicious,
while the dark clouds tell a tale,
of the shadow’s superstitious
witch’s moon on endless rail…
Thrown are we, irresolute innocence through regurgitated realities…
Distortions of parallel paradigms-
excrements of encrypted rhymes,
Sacrificial sapient slaves marooned by masochistic mortalities’
+++
Prolific pondering of minds within spatial exponential existence...
Social intorsions of inauspicious illusions-
captive calamitous confusions,
Warring machines mandating annihilation with rigorous resistance
+++
Tempestuous tyrants dictating, Overlords ruling of magnetic masses...
Dormant dimensions descending-
seraphical souls forever defending,
Dreams diminishing spiraling, convoluting nebulous germinal gases
+++
Hordes of Habitual hunger, incarnating wells by blackened abysses...
Demons demanding distraction-
embryonic echoes of attraction,
Succumbing’s sensorial seductions of love by misguided misses.
Feb.08.2019
I died a little inside
Sponsored by: Silent One
...the muse is in recluse...only somewhat posting now...partial involvement...will be back to full duties soon...thanks to everyone who have commented...love & peace to all...
Placed 2'nd...Thank You
Barely six and the bustle winds
through depths of lost descent
where reality hunts the night
dreaming of incoherent content
here dusk drifts off ever deep
butterfly float on off to sleep
in wings of the dormant pine
almost silently still, she weeps
but all I hear are angelic voices
begging on moonbeams to fly
breathless meaningful moments
singing in every teardrop cried
vous avez pris mon souffle
as I placed my hands upon her heart
a path opened to intimate ardor
and a pleasingly inauspicious start
Forgive them Father for their souls unclean
Hardened hearts that demonically demean
Camouflaged cathedrals a silent smokescreen
The towers of Babylon crumble as foreseen
Inauspicious idols obelisks of the obscene
Magniloquent mirages of man's made machine
Feeding feculent fires with gorging gasoline
Pampered populous with a Vatican vaccine
Malodorous men with a nervous nicotine
Religion waging wars like a lost libertine
Marauding morality in the menus cuisine
In man's madness a grotesque guillotine.
July.10.2017
JULY PREMIERE CONTEST
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
So
it was
that I recalled my physiological reaction
to the attending physician
who along with a group
of medical students accompanying
him on his daily rounds had
gathered around the foot
of my bed and he seemed to be asking
a lot of questions
to the students while
at the same time he was
physically examining me.
He asked me how I was doing so I told him,
" I'm doing okay".
Then I show him the toe. He looks at it and then asks the students to examine what appears to be some abnormality apparently.
This digit
at the end of my foot
was covered by a group
of students and some uninvited spore producing organisms
which apparently feed
on organic matter like the tip
of a toe nail.
Together the group looked at the nail one by one then stepped away until
the next student and then the next
managed to see for themselves.
Then the physician inquired to the interns "Is it the type found on the skin or the type found on the nail? He told the students it's medical name, "onychomycosis".
He looked at the toe once again before he moved on his brief inauspicious statement summarized the big picture.
"Interesting".
If you like adventure you will like Match.com,
But many of them you won’t want to take home to meet your Mom.
Each guy you see is a brand new slate.
It's like an interview, looking for a potential soulmate.
Some dates have a good sense of humor and seem great,
Then some on the first date have been real cheapskates!
I’ve had some dates that I could not wait to leave,
As they whined about their ex, wearing their heart on their sleeve.
One professor met me on the first date with roses, and was so sweet.
But I discovered he had a love for his drink, and I couldn’t compete.
There have been school administrators, men in business, and sales,
Some that seem very easy-going, and some as tough as nails.
One of the most interesting by far was a farmer…
Living a country life with his animals, he was a real charmer.
There are many shysters on match too, pretending to be single,
But married… and just looking to intermingle.
There are those that are looking for money that are crooks,
That will wine you and dine you with their good looks.
To protect yourself, get a background report before you date,
Then you don’t have to wonder if you will meet an inauspicious fate.
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