My rhythm is just awful
my rhyming’s out of sorts
As I light each poem’s tail
I hope that it aborts
Iambic pentameter
speaks not to my heart
Perhaps that is one reason
critics tear me apart
I’ve served my time: waited tables
washed cars, begged for money
Yet my poetry presents indifferently
worst of all ~ it ain’t even funny
Temperatures are high in Héraclée France.
We bear the heat with the triad of grace, ice, shade
and later in the morning, air conditioning.
The sun is as bright as optical illusion,
‘Worship me, worship me,’ it seems to say,
but I will not look up and ruin my eyes.
Besides, if I’m happy, it looks on indifferently.
if I am wilting, it looks on indifferently,
and I’ve already had one God ghost me.
As I stand in the shade of this ancient deity,
The fact that there’s no cosmic care,
implies no cosmic judgment.
I am an impudent little animal, I suppose.
but a deity should make wondrous promises,
not try to fry you like a falafel.
So, as I negotiate heat and meaning-systems,
- all fiery-Sol foreshadows, is a dry and barren liturgy,
emptied of consolation.
.
.
A song for this:
Meet Me In Love by Blossoms
Laughing, whilst indifferently
Facing all, good and bad
A marvel; denied each of us
To know about. Not mad!
More than folly, some blunder
Life itself, confronting!
O Lord above! Slow to anger.
And slow to prosecute!
Here is why. What child is more cute
As, jokey, downs a thing?
Hey little bug why you’re flitting around
Wandering among the dead leaves
Maybe you sense what I’m thinking about
Reading my thoughts through the breeze?
You probably know more than scientists can
Observe in your species abilities
And that knowledge you have prompts you to run
I reckon it gives your mobility
In search of the safety and food, these are two
Essentials you are looking for
The world is an insatiable monster to you
So you’ve got to take care before
It’ll eat you indifferently like it does
Eat anything that makes a sound
I’m on the menu as well, all of us
And them, we shall feed this old ground.
I accidentally burned my breakfast toast.
I gave a thirty minute monologue
on this heinous crime.
To what’s left of the crust,
I stared, then cursed, then laughed
so hard the room shivered
and in the echoes—
Surprise!
I found the voice I choked
for being ‘inappropriate’—
—Time to toast.
I was startled by my cracked laughter,
as the cat groomed herself
indifferently witnessing
my twenties
spent trashing a toaster.
I announced, to the stinging smell of embers,
“We’re filing a complaint
to whoever put us
in this world where you can’t trust a toaster…”
But we all know,
in a week,
I'll likely trust it again.
Going through the storms of life,
I thought my tears had dried up.
Unexpectedly, the pain was so great.
Is it true that today my heart is aching
Or am I strangling my heart
Each day that passes,
The pain grows greater,
Tears are about to fall.
And I know I am living true to myself.
Someone has dug out my heart,
Thrown it on the ground, and stomped on it.
Indifferently. Fake, betrayal, exploitation.
Great sadness will come after great joy
Is it true, they say, I just hope it is not.
Ordinary People
.......................................
walking on the roads hurriedly,
to reach workplace indifferently,
to finish pending work finally.,
saw a bleeding man callously,
looked at passing by people furiously,
and thought did my duty thoroughly.
The dying man could be wishing desparately,
to help him with a heart humanly.
What did he know,we have become possibly,
merciless than the reaper so grimly.
Have the time to take picture perfectly,
but not to lend the hand to help you readily.
Well ,could be anyone’s woman,child or anyone potentially,
to be in a state and watched on helplessly.
My status ranges from low to high endlessly,
and so does my education absolutely.
Do I care about these you silly,
am just like you ,ordinary people living casually,
unhinged,unperturbed ,going along slyly.
After all ,we are all people living so ordinarily.
Written and finished on:21/9/24
A melancholy moon shone upon the earth.
Shadows lingered upon rows of tombstones.
I searched for solace in the vast cemetery
But alas, I found none to heal my wounds.
Days had passed with echoes of grief as I looked on.
Somewhere lay my love long buried, as birds above
Sang their melancholy melodies of death’s sorrow.
I sought amongst the ghastly ghosts of yesterday,
Remnants of the dark death that took so many lives.
Cursed Covid has taken many innumerable lives.
I sat on a tomb, beneath a cross, as tears flowed.
Echoes of our laughter seem to be heard in mockery.
The tall cypresses sent shadows across and I felt cold.
A soft breeze flowed all around and dusk began to fall.
Somewhere a beastly bell sounded its closing time.
Stars twinkled indifferently as a half-moon turned red.
Behind me, my love remained buried and lost.
There was no hope of finding any sort of peace.
I left the dead to mourn the dead and went home.
After all, tomorrow is another day, hopefully better.
1
In wandering life’s ever-changing dynamic landscape,
the paved pathway across the undulating topography
meanders to the nebulous future in time taking turns,
I have to traverse following the footprints of destiny.
The sinking spent sun in the cauldron of my crimson sky
paints the time of the vibrant life passing slowly me by.
The dust-draped horizon spreads uncertainty shroud,
for the ambiguous obscurity conceals the blurred future.
In twilight hour the sky would create a collage of colors,
weave for me the panorama for the penultimate walk.
I’d stand at the signpost of the last mile of my journey,
and wonder what lies at the end of the ordained path.
Many streams I’d remember to have crossed in squall
with budding desires sheltered in heart lest they’d sink,
while the winged dreams drifted away chasing butterflies,
flittering through amorous air in the verdant vale of love.
I’d indifferently count the footsteps of the ultimate trek,
fated to reach the final destination of devouring darkness,
the sighing wind would convey the beginning of the end,
as I’d take the reluctant first step to walk the last mile.
the sun was fixed in the sky
like a fugitive in an orange jumpsuit
radiating anger.
the evergreen forest was shedding
to carpet the steeled winter
earth. pinecones and needles in
a mosaic of brown and green.
the swing set sat neglected
chains rusted, slack like
abandoned moorings.
it creaked under the stress
of your weight, unsure of itself.
its chains, yawning after years
of hibernation, start to sway,
back and forth, picking up
speed and confidence.
In a flash you’re off the
swing, gliding through thick,
wet air to land on your
hands and knees in the
mulch. The intractable wood
opens the soft flesh of your
palms. The strawberry red
blood glistens in the late
Sunday light.
A dog barks indifferently
at the sun as it sheds its
cumbersome bonds and
falls back into the earth.
eclipse an errant eon
inhale discordant ions
exhale insectile icons
disarm misfiring memes
take umbrage under a titanic umbrella
recede from seething red-holes in sinkholes
just so you know…
Helga and Zohar orbit the Moon
a harsh mistress giggles indifferently
a cold cosmos says nothing
you are (not) what you think (you are)
forbid fallacious words
forget wordy fallacies
forgo fatuous wormholes
FYI, it’s Awesome
FWIW, it's Perfect
TBH, it’s FUBAR
She sits on the bus and keeps her glare fixed at the bright sky
Not really interpreting the sun or the many birds that fly
She reaches her classroom and freezes to a rock
Eyes fixed to people as they chatter away and walk
Her mind has used the portkey to travel to another world
Where of the people who know her and come to talk to her, there ain't a dearth
Even in a yacht in the middle of a sea, she feels sucked up by air
And maybe sometimes feels as if life has been thoroughly unfair.
With all delicacies on her platter, she simply doesn't feel like eating
Her solitude and reclusive attitude causes her to get a scolding
Yet, as some angel asks her, "How are you?",
She indifferently replies back, "As great as I can be", without giving it a thought or two
Who shall explain
She needs to talk to someone without thinking it as lame
It is okay to sometimes not just feel like it
But you must make sure to carve out some time to sit
Allow your mind and heart to go in sync.
Let us all vouch for healthy mental being
So that one day we can have related taboos-- nowhere to be seen.
Pretending to be different, pretending to even care
Pretending to be what you are not lies within your stare
Sad to see how unhealthy a life being lived this way
Sad to see how uncharacteristically the Saint you portray
Selfishly to only be something other than what you are
Selfishly to only be your own little shining star
Carelessly you choose not to see the truth in what you feel
Carelessly you choose to be a punisher rather than heal
Intending to be what the liar you intend to be
Intending to be everyones silent enemy
Sad to see the misery that you so desperately need
Sad to see indifferently the knife pierce as your blood bleeds
bmdavey@10/04/2022
Drops on anthracite curls
Are glistening and slipping off.
A light breeze craves a touch
And cautiously blows on them.
But you, indifferently, don't even play with heir .
The sun sank lower
And by refracting the rays,
It lit you up like gold coins.
Well I, nearby froze as a brass,
Take me as the many of amulets.
Aphorism hinders ancillary terrible dilemmas,
In the bearing session, I have been picked.
If I've carried out the most striking edemas,
Approaching all them might be kicked.
Living has scored the highest goal of my life.
Drilling entails helping others with adversity.
Tried some of our lives reading how to rife.
How is it annoying to issue the miscellany?
I haven't had to swallow long-term memory.
By proving that hopeless feeling into words.
As vital as this work is, I grasp its own purity.
My path in life changed clearly as I can record.
Each way of life stirs love, trust, and veracity.
Retain that life is too brief to live indifferently.
Written: May 24, 2022
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