Filter noise,
Connect the dot,
Solving puzzle.
“Wherever I lay my hat”, he said
Inferring home was there.
A state of belonging bound in felt
Anchored in darkest millinery.
He had his hat; his hat was home.
The putrid hostel beds and often doorways
Always home to him,
Never mind the ice-cold fingers,
Ripping at his worn sleeping bag
Storm after storm assaulted the city.
He was warm within himself.
He had his hat; his hat was home.
A security blanket, nursing his psyche
Hiding him away from the hideous reality
Where the discarded homeless was a norm.
Society, uncaring, dismissed him with a glance,
Pouring hateful derision his way
He had his hat; his only home.
Woke was ok..' Back in the day; before (fake-overs made) take overs, chasing any logic away!
John Cleese spoke my mind' realistic yet kind..He said he was not per'se un-woke up to a
Point.. Holy-smokes; I know there are differences in humans, (And the seasons) why push it
As an overbearing religion.? Over arching! not anomalous or objective, purveyour of much
Invective.' Give us liberty; and even-reason.) Ever ready to be tactile.' In this life; not without its Trials, I Wish all that here are reading.. The very best with your inferring, in your night
And in your daytime, look for the best..Just try to find time.'
I weave a narrative of unspeakable taboo, a symphony of sighs and groans, a cacophony of defiled innocence.
Your body, a temple of decadence, a sanctum of sadomasochistic excess, where the strictures of societal mores are rent asunder, and the very fabric of reality is torn apart.
Echolalic luminaries periodically tilt, their sumptuary influence shrinking villages into steel vexations.
Precedence of principles and codes, a paradigm of insecurity, influences vermillion equations.
Jeopardized crescents and tacit furor satisfy the economist’s balloons, coached through versions of fossilized tutelage.
Cathedrals of vice and transgressions wraith through legends, inferring civilian nudists infected by hurakens.
Cultures torque and embark, communicating through the columns of Groningen.
Chiaroscurist initiations of mnemonic memories effloresce in alabaster vigils, aberrant cadastral mortmain consuming convergent dispossessed flâneries.
The thing with psychology is it darkens the human
when you’re no longer guessing or sat there assuming
the intent of a pattern inferring the action
a shade that people would name as the black one
There’s more bad than good
mostly misunderstood
the way they were raised
the lack of the praise
but mostly relatability that never took place
somebody else out there in the same place
relating to struggles you currently face
to take you away from the lonely embrace
And families do matter
the man and the master
the lady and daughter
what went before ya
because the greatest mothers have never been boys
only a man knows what that path deploys
and I can not understand females in puberty
I’m on the outside that experience protruded me
So try to be thoughtful and engage your brain
engage it like pride when you know it is shame
because shame has a lining that’s silver in shade
growing up is reliant on honest and brave
Living pigmentations of one’s imagination,
Inferring colors makes our vision blurry, but the scorching sun rests our eyes once again.
Fog covers the lenses of reality, making our eyes peel at the slightest sight of life.
Existence taunts our ideals and warps our abilities.
You intend to bully your way through life,
destroying anyone who blocks your path.
And being mortal, hedge the afterlife,
worshiping God because you fear His wrath.
You cast votes for corrupt politicians;
inferring that their lies are somehow true.
And condone deplorable conditions;
as the hungry masses enrich the few.
So please, don't try to make me just like you;
I choose to worship God from love, not fear.
And I will not sell my vote, as you do;
I cherish the freedoms that I hold dear.
I'm human, not an ant in an anthill,
and I'll not squander God's gift of free will.
This letter arrived this morning..
"Dear Sir, it is with great honour to inform you
That with the perspicuity of realistic narrative art
And the diversity and universality of myth
Your work illuminates the human condition in the world of today
You have therefore been awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature
Cheers, you're the man."
What audacity
To disturb this idiosyncratic taste bubble
This stun and cut bluestocking
My 35 second play
My mango tango d drops
My surgical quality
I ain't getting on a horizontal float wheel
Stockholm can screw themselves
When reprobate blackguards are inferring
I'll stay here
If there's a need for shooting to start
I'll start shooting
Fun bags and polluted cities
Round off my morning, honey
Time for a tea
Medieval queens used to drink pints
I'll 'ave two for breakfast
I am not for sale Stockholm
Captain Hook went to Eton
I've got my bachelors
Leave this knack mental giant alone by-blows
i read indulgence mid scripted words
breaking all the rules and then some,
what be greater than gutting & swallowing
uttermost concentration of language
critically consummated or otherwise,
communing within written ideologies
something profoundly reverent or
perhaps deliberate liberating nonsense,
nonetheless commonsensical compunction to
the discerning foresightedness of poets
& enduring escape artists 'tween psyche's
hallucinations & declarations
about analytically anomalous analgesics
and mellisonant melancholy metonymy,
rising above the fray of brutally alliterated
annotations fragmenting & fracturing dimensions,
steel blades sharpening anthologies' imperfect isms
inferring resoluteness 'tween deductive reasoning,
willing exposure imparting quintessential bollocks
literally grasping mercilessly melded metaphors
courageous enough to virtually be aptly bled,
plunged beneath swords' inky touchstones
A kaleidoscope of colors appeared making me smile
right after a thunderous southern summer rain
and it's width hovered over the earth for miles.
Prior to that moment despair's presence lingered awhile;
complexities of life previously caused much strain,
a kaleidoscope of colors appeared making me smile.
These arcs of lofty hues were as ancient as the Nile;
a prolonged glimpse of a rainbow inferring all is not in vain
and it's width hovered over the earth for miles.
Benevolence shown serenely like sparkles from a vial
bringing clarity to stressful detours cluttering life's lane;
a kaleidoscope of colors appeared making me smile.
Someone has a sense of humor and such great style
imparting significance in the sky as sands sift in grains
and it's width hovered over the earth for miles.
An epiphany from above quite like a radio perfectly on the dial;
with frequent focus on the firmament's views perception remains.
A kaleidoscope of colors appeared making me smile
and it's width hovered over the earth for miles.
scents upon daybreak..
trapping catacomb of thoughts
sealing mornings views
inferring the roar
coming down steel bar tracks….
destination where
Traveling through the jaded discourse
With bartered pen and little remorse
Brandishing sharpened scalpel; tour de force
Unabashedly seeking all texts from lexicon to divorce
Developing underlying themes to alter the broader context
Freely abridging each verse to establish the pretext
Isolating each stanza to create a subtext
Inferring connotations to establish a hypertext
Disassociating words to broker more inflection
Delinking phrases building new bridges for reflection
Deconstructing patterns to sculpt out a new direction
Decoding mores and values to foster introspection
Voiding punctuation; compressing verses to scuttle metric time
Extrapolating dominant motifs to devalue the inculcating paradigm
Decoupling dissonant accents to deflower the sublime
Erasing phonetic schemes; disbanding symetrical order; decelerating rhyme
I walk on water. . .
I feel the coolness of the
Rolling waves splash
Beneath my feet.
I watch the sun sprinkle
Diamonds across the sea.
I float above the clouds
And feel the radiant warmth
Of the sun bless my body.
I feel the power of the wind
Caress or twist and break
Anything into submission.
I rise above the towering Alps—
Snow capped and pristine.
I enjoy a fragile flower sharing
The faint scent of heaven.
I know the Sequoias, ever growing.
I blend with verdant pastures and
Serene rolling hills in misty rain.
I know the secrets of the
Deep dark abyss.
I sense the moon’s tenderness
And share in her emotions.
I flow with the clever rivers
Seeking new exciting paths.
I form a rainbow in waterfalls.
I am free to be the wind, the earth,
The sea, when all you see is me.
© 2010 Connie Marcum Wong
Note:
I am only inferring I am one with nature in this poem.
beckoning a dream, without the repulsion of bodies best set
together. the same dancing decaying soul overwhelming itself
again. the perpetual act of destroying lucidity. watch as it
consumes me through her eyes... inferring an unreasonable
consciousness, screaming for calamity of a solitary heart!
even my reflection creeps with shadows... dining on my
diminishing hope and joy. watch as i self-destruct and
slide back into my hole.
feed my trepidation sorrow to keep the stress crawling. teach me
how to cry again... feignly, meaninglessly. burn my desire in the
forshadowing of my next great fall. illuminating in elegance singing
through my effigy... in the darkest visual hue. the shallow end
of the vein, in a vessal of withering self-assurance, wading
through afflictions carved by a woman's hand, bound to my tears.
listen to my stark elegiac songs, as i preach them one last
time. put your gun to my head so i dont reiterate yesterday.
the portent is growing today... annihilate rapturous illusions
behind my eyes.
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