chief of disguise
collector of masks
the King wears his
as a helmet to scare
off enemies
the fool with false nose
the jester in chains
remains in oubliette
singing in his screams
impossible to forget
the old men who come
from the sea and steam
in cold of Poseidon spray
salt and fish from waves
likely alone are the women
and wives of sailors
so long as they have not
turned to traitors,
bakers or smiths
the loves who are steadfast
never safe from a day
when their hearts do not return
fading to old maids all
in the name of heartbreak
the Queen is tired of
the Knave of Bells
his complaints so
needless and vain,
checking his hair in the mirror
she is exhausted
left to remain as consort
to the pain in her heart
for the King is away
not likely to return.
We are the wind, the air, the ether
Our separate souls connecting teacher
Adrift upon a shifting essence
Allowing life its ever presence
A beam of light, an ocean wave
Heroic knight, cowardly knave
Passing through a moment’s now
No where or when, no why or how
We are the wind, the air, the ether
Our separate souls connecting feature
©10/1/2022
Sans mind-body who are we Poetry Contest
There once was a crude Irish knave
Who hid deep within Fingal’s cave.
He felt it safe there to flee,
Thinking “naught could get to me”
Until swept away by a wave.
I fear that
We are losing this race
To remove the cyst
From the heart
Of this dark leader
The daily tales
Of erect simian see simian do
And words that undo
The voices of maiden tales
To ears that fail
And again to this house
We elect
What below the belt
Is the prime suspect
As the vessels of life
Bring forth the strife
We funnel our paychecks
Into coffers of silence
And spin the survivors
Like bottles at a party
The loudest voice heard
In this media circus
Is the ringmaster
To his trove of devotees
Unable to rise from their knees
He speaks and with them agrees
To support the part of sin
That no one sees
course of the willing knave
Raise yourself, find the leading thrall. See the reflection, that misleads us all. Follow the darkened shadow, Loss of personal strength, one of mental exasperation, identity depression, the quailing way.
Need, the expressive lie, take from the others, so that the nation can survive. Follow the path of the hiding raver. integrity weakening, course of the willing knave.
watch him, give him room
he's even dressed as a card
he will take what he can.
tell it like it is, sweet babe,
have a brother bipolar knave,
disowned me last time we met,
bipolar cant get off his chest...
awful thing hey,
coming off the zoloff quick,
he was going to murder us just a bit....
bloody bipolar hey...Don Johnson
.
I too have become the
truculent knave
fractious
oh yes
testy
peevish
so cranky
for the winter hides
the flower's
bloom
yes
from mine eyes
Treasure the heart, desire the flesh
Gallantry and sin, deeply enmeshed
A man can be both knave and knight
Take what he wants, yet do what is right
Pull down the stars to weave in your hair
Stave off the light to keep you ensnared
Battle your demons, yet relish his own
The heart of a man is a depth unknown
my heart now missing
a souvenir that you took
displayed on your shelf
quickly forgotten
hidden behind the others
you, the knave of hearts
a true master of the game
no deviations
from the plan devised
me, blindsided by moonlight
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