Sword Of Justice
Sword of justice indict a bogus Gilgamesh
An apathetic ghoul condemned embodying arrogance above kindness
Dark and ominous intent bound to abolish
Inherent freedom of expression beside justified inquests by the press
Impotence with bias grievously intermesh
Abandoning bodies littered amidst landscape chanting their bitterness
Noxious world of lies desiccate rotten flesh
While oxygen deserts his breath as waves of tears drown forgiveness
"This is a tirade aimed at those who will go to extremes to pursue and
achieve their obnoxious, evil, and heartless intentions to rule and remain
on top of the food chain. In the United States, one such entity almost
turned this nation into an autocracy.
12/24/17
2:54 p.m.
West Palm Beach
Florida USA
Categories:
inquests, angst,
Form: Rhyme
No if in fact truth be told
On the contrary
Not only am i not only drowning
I am floating aboard a bubble
Whilst simultaneously both airing
and cleaning out my laundry
And don't forget as i am still
a serving politician
Say and throw whatever you
wish but mudd don't stick
As mudd is thicker than water
When it comes to independent
inquests resided over by
The keeper of the secret skeletal
key's locked inside pandoras closet
box or cupboards
Categories:
inquests, slam,
Form: Free verse
The primary climate pandemic problem
has something to do
fix
overpower
our Big Verbal Dominating
Vocations listing our best LeftBrain answers
pat and privileged
before deep RightBrain feeling quests
are evenly invited
into Earth's deliberating DNA dialogue,
much less the likelihood of full and equal engagement
in healthy ecosystemic destinies,
LeftBrain twitter manifest
or RightBrain OtherWise
Co-invested bequests,
regenerative requests
following generations of inquests
Into healing vengeful wounded climates
by re-investing in cooperative co-ownership
rather than more StraightWhiteMale privileged
competitive
repetitive redhot subclimates
of heated
unhealthy monocultures
of patriarchal LeftBrain
violent degeneration.
Categories:
inquests, anxiety, appreciation, destiny, earth,
Form: Political Verse
Not at once, but gradually at my feet
random leaves, brown and brittle
carpenters diligently march in
leaving my bark somewhat non-committal
Furtively, up grow the undesirables
the weedy weeds and the pesty pests
erstwhile friends in the summer sun
the heavenly snag inviting inquests
Wounded tree under forest affliction
how to water; too little, too much
scarred by the bear claw and lightning strike
yielding to the woodpecker, chickadee and bluebird clutch
Where only warmth now lingers, the flame once fired
stands the smiling woodsman cleaning his plate
glistening against my trunk in the wink of a rising sun
a sharpened ax waits and waits
Categories:
inquests, death, life, metaphor,
Form: Quatrain
Yours is a horrendous bother
I decode one side, you obfuscate another!
I twist and turn, twist and turn again
Fingers engrossed around your parts, another twist
extirpates the other side! My enthusiasm refuses to wane.
I warp your shifting visage, weave the obliterated wrist,
Only succeeding to dislodge several faces,
I continue defacing your six surfaces…
In my euphoric endeavors to somehow unwind,
The unfathomable thoughts in your wavering mind,
I take manifold cyclical turns, like a brisk walk in fog,
Your complex anonymity refuses to unclog!
My flirtatious advances, don’t inveigle your resolve?
Chances to demystify you, in vain I solve,
I stare at your complacent maze,
you’re smug, with a mystic gaze!
Still in downright disarray
my curiosity, undone by dismay,
You’re unfazed, as you obliviously recline
Further inquests, but you obstinately decline!
I scrupulously ingest your manual again,
And brace for another futile try,
Why am I so smitten, as if to ascertain
If afterward, you’ll still be awry!?
© Maverick Nyambu
Categories:
inquests, metaphor, symbolism,
Form: Rhyme
BLUE
The rain startled the clouds and fell like
a scare of possibilities. The day toggled
from then to now like a withering widow
A flustered squirrel sat and squirmed
and still nibbled at a dry stump
like eliciting poetry off ancient prose
Some never knew the intent of need
others feigned disinterest in inquests
turning over their earths again and again
I read the prognosis of your vertigo
And derived a rider. That it was mere
Math to team up or to sleep in the buff
An unpredicted rite of passage
after all shenanigans stand erased
to uncover new aquifer in antique spandrel.
To discover that the sky was never this blue.
10 Nov 13
For Chris' contest
Categories:
inquests, color,
Form: Free verse
How did you see ahead God
When we don’t have a clue?
You make plans, arrangements ahead of time
You make everything falls together like pieces of puzzle
Falling in their places
A masterpiece
With a personal touch from the Master’s hands
Sometimes we don’t know what You are doing
And we question You
Taxing You, vexing You
If only we know
How grand your ideas are
Then we would stop the barrage of inquests
And rest in You
How many times You said You are in control
But do we listen?
We just have to get involved
And give You a helping hand
You don’t need our help
That is why You are God
And we aren’t
We got all worked up
Flustered, confused, put off
All because we don’t have an inclination of what to do
We are not supposed to know
It is God’s mysterious hands
That will be the glory of all
So be You God
Direct us, guide us, lead us
Your way
The wonder way
The perfect way
The only way
Always
Categories:
inquests, faith,
Form: Free verse
Those old poets and painters
In books and carved inscriptions
on the streets, in old pages
of time and its history
from old struggles and inquests
and there is me and my journey
of human voyage and freedom
borne out from expression
and desert, of many years
of my belongings, in verses
the old hidden characters
as I scrawl through my mind
few more, just one last moment
for amusement and seduction
as this mind embraces its nemesis!
Kashkin
Categories:
inquests, life, old, old,
Form: Blank verse
In November limbs are still
Thin against the dying light
From sylvan vale to hill
Poised in forms for us, contrite
Pergola bare with thorn
The knuckles of the hemlock worn
Expansive loomed leaf arbor's torn
Preparing for winters blight
in hibernation
To discover the divination
of dendrology, their eschatology and escape
Mystic trees as old as hills they nest
Did they raise the earth abreast
and create
Hill and dale, with leaves and root's end-trail
These trees beyond date
and chronology
Ever older, wiser growing,
love, loss and dying things
they who see all and knowing
of all things past that chronos sings
If I could hear, what would they tell?
Of all history's, fair and fell?
And all the tails of old recreate
Dare I impel, and test,
The gods with such haughty inquests
Demanding a divination of truth?
No, never will I know their tale
And happier be, beneath the arbor vale
in summers sweet
or bit by winter's tooth
Seek thou? No!
There is no sooth.
Finishing Line Press. Book FAREWELL TO THE DUST, by C. S. Leaf avalible March 2008
www.FinishingLinePress.com
Categories:
inquests, death, faith, nature, old,
Form: Lyric