Would you like to comprehend existence?
Come down off your high pedestal and see.
Here, you will find your psychic sustenance—
It's because here, from truth, you cannot flee.
Come and see. Here there is light and darkness;
It's you who should discern what you should choose.
You would feel nature's softness and rudeness;
You can certainly still have your own views.
Come and see. You'd meet the rich and the poor;
Life, here, is like a puzzle with jumbles.
Gloom is all around—there's also grandeur;
You'll see meadows here as well as jungles.
Must you not trace your path in nature’s lore?
Is not each breathing soul your neighbour?
I dream dreams in rhymes and verses,
A poet's blessing in curses,
Vague images pop up in sleep,
Words in jumbles assault me deep;
I dream dreams in rhythmic fragments,
Thoughts quiver without enjambments,
Prompts come in syllables broken,
Illusions signalled unspoken;
I dream dreams that shake me awake,
Midnight muse greets drowsy daybreak,
Ideas cross o'er slumberland,
Muddled whims in poetic strand;
I dream dreams in staccato beat,
Contemplating meter and feet,
Nodding to nightly notions new,
Creative fancy's fleeting view;
I dream dreams that direct my pen,
Grasping glimpses beyond my ken,
Composing fading melodies,
Breathing life into memories.
I was the hottest boot in Texas, Missouri, and Cheyenne.
I could dance the mumble jumbles off every other man.
My mate, my wife, my lover, was almost as sexy as me.
We could not be stopped once started, joyful as could be.
We danced up the hills and meadows, we clattered in the street.
We jingled, and we jangled, our loving circle dances could not be beat.
We smacked against the pavement, astounding those around.
We were the most desirable boots in the USA, stomping on the ground.
There was no stopping us. We were joyful and alert.
There are those fancy boots! Some child would often blurt.
I would swing my partner like crazy, toss her high up in the air.
We boots were simply terrific, with positivity to often share.
Rendezvous renaissance respects Rembrandt’s recollection
I ignore illustrious ingenuity integrated in intelligent ignorance
Jupiter’s juxtaposition jumbles jiggly jamboree’s juices
Collective creativity colorfully collects catnip corridors
But does it make sense? To part of me yes.
The rest of me is waiting for a sanitized explanation.
Unfortunately, the same personalities do not return a second time.
At times He shouts to clear his throat, AHEM!
We are the phlegm.
Puffs of dandelion dust,
ignoring life, allowing hearts to rust.
Each day we rush upon ourselves,
shelving more decisions,
piercings and incisions,
in the side of eyelids, nose, and tongue.
unknowing victims, of
what we know not from.
beaming like returning martyrs,
blown to Kingdom Come.
matter splattered, gut ache or remorse;
no age is better for it; no age worse.
it’s what we choose to look at now;
it is our Holy Cow.
maybe sin is in the looking,
maybe in the not,
eyes averted;
disaster flirted with,
Mr./ Mrs. Smith,
composite couple;
doubling our efforts
to keep up, win the cup;
get the bowl;
satisfy a never-filling hole.
Our procedure is to marry;
double-feature of our troubled futures;
sutures for the wounds inflicted
in a psyche so conflicted;
we sit for hours and hours
hours and hours, paying folks
to analyze the guiltiness of flowers.
We simply grow, didn’t you know;
afraid of what we have created.
Frankensteins,
so overrated, - tall,
but not so unrelated after all.
Butterflies aloft upon the trees
Trying to grab hold in a wind storm
Keeping organization within a mess
A mighty gust jumbles the group
But they remain a group and
Land softly only to reassemble
Quietly within my mind.
Foggy never ends over the smallest room
Shape of microphone lay in the brown table
Waitress busted on and took imperial bottle
Commonly appeared in a metrosexual nimble
Unwrap whiskey, notice slicing jumbles
Used up with joys who teased me in great sable
Until my wistful eyes seemed bubbled
Under frustration I glup whine with gloom
Mind mystic mood
Grace gathers good
Live lovely laughs
Set succinct stuff
Join jolly jest
Face funny fest
Live lingers loud
Prize poignant proud
Jazz jumbles joy
Play picky ploys
Mull mystic mind
Fancy frames find
Hurl hurry here
Craft curious cheer
Dance dreamy daze
Charm clever craze
Glimpse greatness grand
Free feisty friend
Word wealthy will
Stay silence still
Leon Enriquez
07 November 2018
Singapore
A universe jumbles unfinished in the mind
picture upon picture
a laconic dimension of perception
where comprehension hides in brambles
and rubbish churns like a river
emptying into the soul
the murky and the luminous converge
forming an enclosure of concentration
where nothing exists, except focus
time melts away...a word
then another, then another
like falling leaves washed by the wind
carried to the inner eye
read, questioned, reasoned, unleased
spread across a white sheet
where a sentence grows
giving purpose to lucidity
translated by each reader
in their fashion
to be liked or disliked...as the page turns
Squeeze some more stuff in closet,
Daily make more deposits,
Piled sky high of clothes jumble,
Open door and hear rumble.
3-20-17
What good would it do to have everything
And you have nothing
You can never claim anything as your own
Because anything is owned by God
Your friends, your possessions, the people that you love
You don't have nothing
God determines it like that
When you don't have nothing
That is when you have everything
Am I talking in jumbles?
Why does God want it like that?
Why does He want you to jump a lot of hoops
Only to the end to leave everything
He is nuts!
That is all I can say
Kidding aside God
Forgive me but there is no logical reason
for what You say
for what You do
And I don't want to think of it
As You are going to do something else anyway
No one can figure it out, You out
And I gave up trying
I like things the way they are
You say - NOT
Okay I don't like the ways things are
You say.....what?
(My ears perked up listening to You)
He knows when I don't mean it
There is no way getting around You
I gave up
You got it God
Whatever You want
Whatever You say
I don't careeeeeeeeeeeeee
Lol
I do care
That is the problem! Lol
talking to yourself
in/comprehensible jumbles
matching the striped suits
of paper authors clutched
into soft pillows
dreaming of salvation
army bookworms
marching to the cadence
of false hope
waiting for the last
merciful black door
to open wide enough
to let the vapors
seep back into the void
Deserted and bleak,
Where mountains reach and rocks
Squat red and jagged,
The jumbles, the building blocks
Of a long-dead world.
Canyons plunge deep where
Fast flowing water
Eroded a channel there.
Now dead, dry, airless,
A Red Planet among the stars
Hopes for rebirth.
This is the Spirit of Mars
Waiting for help from Earth.
(Naga-uta)
I finished the Acrostic,
Every letter filled completely;
Though if you saw the page
It's not completed very neatly.
This puzzle from the Sunday Times
Is challenging and clever,
And quickly it becomes
An all-encompassing endeavor.
Unlike crosswords, which I love,
Or word searches or jumbles,
It's easy in Acrostics,
To sink into certain stumbles.
Back and forth your eyes must move,
Transferring every letter.
Though I try, it doesn't seem
I ever get much better.
Still, at times, I crack the clues
And find the hidden quote.
The satisfaction's sweet enough
I hardly need to gloat.
A boy lines up plastic soldiers
In straight rows across his floor.
He knocks them down with callow ease
In a naive game of war.
Far across the deepest ocean,
In between rich, well-known places,
Little boys become those soldiers -
Grow hard lines upon their faces.
Guns weigh down their frail frames,
As they march in groups like drones;
Passing by jumbles of bodies -
Messy piles of flesh and bones.
One cries softly in the corner,
Another cannot bear the sound.
He takes the blunt side of his gun
And beats the other to the ground.
In the streets they pass right over
Mothers murdered, sisters raped,
Countless men whose limbs are broken,
But whose empty eyes still gape.
Narrow roads become red rivers,
Neighbourhoods go up in flames,
Backyards turn into cold graveyards -
Still they play this twisted game.
Far across the deepest ocean,
In the richest, well-known places,
Boys line up their plastic soldiers
With blind smiles upon their faces.
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