Goodbye my favorite forever
Eternal fragments lost in abstract soup de jour
Our handshakes full of tremors
When the memories rain it's sore
My heart in freefall, falling up and out, forever's too soon
The paragraph on the backs of pictures stabs the point home
Skeletal strangers with nothing left to prove
The distance signals in real time leaving the breadcrumbs of
jarred hearts, painted candied hearts and Pacman ghosts in slow pursuit
The light of pumpkin eyes, rhymical in pursuit of boyish daydreams
Girlish looks of starving hearts depreciated, are less than pennies now
Parting words circled in funny papers still shaking with regret
When you see me in the folded memories
Just know you're not alone
Your light smiling on in the hollows of my eyes
Smiling in hindsight begging you to come home
Begging me to be brave
Goodbye my favorite forever
You're my long way out
In fading and in passing
Set me a long way down
A blue feather floats into my dreams,
Carried by the storm, it softly gleams;
Angry clouds gather in the heavens,
They seem they're at sixes and sevens;
Earth bound, the blue feather crashes hard...
Falling from bed, I find my dreams jarred!
Just to keep up with a new style, while the Sand man sticks to a plan to hence understand the sentence one tense to be rinsed as the Grinch defends his tent in a pinch despite its foul rotten odor of a stench mouthed one voter who was NOT that dense in past present and future tense hence the bench warrant quarantine latrine screaming beanie baby trading card retarded jarred smarties party past time hardly hardy bartering shotgun runtime bubble covered in Nick at night slime time grime crockery stole bike spike Lymes disease treaty spiked seizer sky high geyser lightning bolt jolt soda colt cold shouldered boulder scolded holding smoldering diamond ring rugged bug-eyed smuggler tug of war tare of a care bare share holder folder to be both bad and bolder like gold oil and drugs with extra hugs and butt plugs underneath the rugs for the fuzz buzzing love jugs whatever that was or wasn’t but not my cousin nuzzling the guzzled puzzling Charlie Sheen screaming ice cream machine that feeds a team and the b team both green beans and brings the fiends back to their gene’s roots and boot scooting things... Let us see what else life brings. The Time is NOW! POW!!!
Potted, half cracked, or glass jarred
Bright ledged outside, in;
Pulled and smelt on a ramble
And more fragile still.
Each, if modest, by some urge
Strange as soul-longing
This close, as twere paradise
Needs bring, to fulfil.
EPSTEIN PRISON GUARD
CONGRESS DEPOSITION CARD
DONALD TRUMP IS JARRED
When wickedness possessed men’s souls
and on God’s patience took a toll
He told Noah to build an ark
because His Judgement would be stark.
It took five score and twenty years
while Noah preached, and scoffers cheered.
God’s long-suffering, men would end,
before the deluge He did send.
When God to Egypt Moses sent
His patience with him was not spent.
For each excuse, God had a cure
Till Moses said, “I’ll go for sure.”
The Amorites in Abraham’s day
Still had a chance to choose God’s way.
Their sin had not yet reached its peak
So they could still, God’s mercy seek.
God knew old Pharaoh’s heart was hard
And warned Moses not to be jarred.
God was patient with Egypt’s king
before death’s sentence, He would bring.
God’s patience is on full display
As He earth’s judgement long delays
So, everyone can get a chance
to miss hell’s fire circumstance.
I packed a few belongings in
a knapsack, my journey to begin.
When my mother gave me a goodbye kiss,
I never expected Barovia's mist.
But I didn't think to count the cost,
and now I'm all alone and lost.
I wonder if I'm even missed.
It seems I'm stuck in Barovia's mist.
Often, I look deep inside my being,
but this fog always clouds my seeing.
Do I even really exist
as I languish in Barovia's mist?
Frustration and anger grip my soul
as I struggle to maintain control
and clench my seething fist.
I must escape from Barovia's mist.
Every time I collapse in despair,
wishing I could clear the vapor in the air,
I find I can't resist
the dark powers of Barovia's mist.
One day, my senses were strangely jarred.
A white-haired lady drew a Tarokka card.
Who knew that she was in my midst
as I wallowed in Barovia's mist?
Said she, "You don't know what's in store".
(Lady Eva was the name she bore.)
"You must keep trying and persist.
Don't surrender to Barovia's mist.
For, in this land, we never know,
as Castle Ravenloft, above, and we below,
await an unexpected twist,
in the mysterious Barovian mist."
I write to preserve
what I think. Sort of like,
making jam from fruit --
harvests of my mind sweetened,
then, painstakingly jarred. You
provide the Time, and I will be
your future spread. It’s what poets
do. What poetry is all about. What
you see of us is only a tasteful portion
of what we will become. With some
toast, a warmth of coffee, I will be
your perfection.
Most of the time, on a seat on a plane,
I say nothing to seatmates around me,
For people will sleep or will read or remain
Fully focused on screens that surround me.
Yet my neighbor today had been handed a card
For her birthday by one of the crew,
So my usual custom of quiet was jarred
And I wished her a happy day, too.
When the beverages came and I pulled from my bag
A croissant from my breakfast this morn
And I offered her half (just plain tea is a drag!),
A relationship somehow was born.
She’s the age of my son and her kids’ ages match
Pretty closely my grandkids’ as well.
Our religion’s the same and our politics, natch,
Seem aligned, far as I got to tell.
We talked work, we talked home and it turns out she writes –
Even poetry, what are the chances
Of connecting with someone like that? On most flights,
With my seatmates we hardly trade glances.
We shared numbers and names and she checked out my rhymes
As the plane travelled hundreds of miles
And no matter if there are additional times,
On this journey we shared lots of smiles.
The argument of silence, absonant,
hammers into the pliant mind it’s hard
nails of craving.—a spirit thusly marred
will yield to any prickle, every scant
pressure to give in.—once the foreign implant
is firmly riveted, a brain so jarred
can no longer trust its levies to guard
its thoughts against the inner, speechless “can’t”.
Quietudes disturb the peace of silent
folk, pounding its forceful will upon their backs.
When, going unfulfilled, a lurching tic
tickles the unstilled ego, its violent
lashes thrash harsh whips in frequent attacks
on the tender flesh of a crooked back.
Try to find good in each day
It helps me along my way
I look around
Trying to see where I'm bound
Hope one day I'll be found
Sometimes not so sure
Life's a blur
Anger in my heart
Won't let it tear me apart
I have to be better than that
Pulling a smile out of my hat
Concentrating not on what's bad
That makes me sad
Sometimes it is hard
Especially if my soul feels jarred
Lost in a world full of hate
Looking for a clean slate
When I'm down
I refuse to drown
Stuck in a thought
Hard fought
Your mind
I find
Is a rough place to get lost
Pain is usually the cost
Hard to separate
Love and hate
Fate
Fear leaves you stuck on the same page
Rage
Leads down an empty road
Doubles your load
Step away
Open the door to a new day
Try to smile
It will help after awhile
Make it your style.
Sleeping deeply
Awakens calmly
Thunder hits hard
The part has jarred
Freed your mind
And don't be blind
Clueless indeed
And still agreed
One, Two, Zero
Nine, Two, Two
Vague so far
End is bizarre...
The limericks piled in his yard
Made mowing and maintenance hard.
The blade would get stuck
When nonsense it struck,
The handle from hyperbole jarred.
Maybe it is just in my mind
But in it I find
Some of the things
Our future brings
My crazy mind does see
Things that come to be
Hurts my heart, my head
Wishing it could be different instead
High
In the sky
The light that does fly
With an an angry orange tail
And so many that follow in trail
All around the people stop and stare
All that mankind does fear
Right about then, life is held so dear
Panic hits hard
As the earth is jarred
....Bright....
Is the light
That fills the night
The flame takes our air
Cries from the burning bear
The eagle falls from the sky
Too late to cry
Words of hate
Seals our fate
Peace has came way too late
Keyed up on an old couch in the front yard,
lying beside you and your golden smile;
We followed the stars and gave in awhile,
rational thought irrevocably jarred;
All the party favors left now are charred;
Trying to let go that’s when you beguile,
internally I beg turn down the dial;
You are a magnet and I’m drawn too hard;
Started to get good with cuddles I think,
being near you is like attending Mass;
Until I’m stirred by the sound of the train,
awoke with a start and fluttered a blink;
Sacred salt lies upon an empty glass
like a fleeting dream that will always stain.
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