I've been feeling the critics lately,
They've been quiet but murmuring.
Miss Heart, from the trauma...
And the medicine I abandoned her for, through force.
Lady Liver and Dame Kidney,
Who I legally and knowingly abused for years.
Monarch Mind and her anxieties,
Who I didn't, nor couldn't keep from harm.
The critics... They're gathering .
Mrs Microbiome, married to my choices and unable to divorce.
Countess of Amygdala,
Begging her now, not to go to war again.
Her Highness, Queen Fascia...
Hardens again monthly to be broken free.
Sitting frustrated at dinner,
Their host is hard to be kind too these days.
The menu must evolve again,
It's critical to improve retention and reviews.
As a child,
Like a grown up, you would put on my make-up,
In my heels you'd stumble trying to stand up.
As a child,
Knowingly, you played at 'mothers' with your friends
Each one using grown up language in pretends.
As a child,
Many times you would not do as you were told,
Capricious, stubborn as any eight-year-old.
As a child,
Already knowing that you wanted to be
A loving mother, exactly, just like me.
As a child,
Peas in a pod, we went through it together
Daintily dancing through all kinds of weather.
Time has passed, and even though you're grown up now
Admit, you can't hide sometimes stumbling somehow
like a child.
Abject behemoths, conniving destructive existence... Fomenting
grave hazardous intent.. Jeopardising... Knowingly... Loathsome
manipulative numbing objectionable practices... Questionably
raising substantial theoretical unsustainable visions...Weird
xenobots yielding zootoxins
It's quite obvious now:
"The they" are preparing for life deep underground.
Placing final ribbons around subterranean cities.
Stockpiling sustenance
Water being siphoned to top off cisterns and privies.
The Amazon, Tigris, and Euphrates.
Superior, Michigan, and Erie are all being drained.
The surface people will be left scrambling for crumbs
in the phlegm of nuclear holocaust.
They'll devolve into hunter-gatherer clans.
To become a twisted reality show for subterraneans.
"The They" who trafficked us and ate our babies
will make a game of it, placing bets at our expense...
on who will perish -who'll be left.
Then, when the earth is somewhat cleansed.
"The They" will emerge to barter with metal from our teeth
pin our cross/bones to their puffy pigeon chests
The rest will serve as sex slaves, servants, and jesters
in the post-apocalyptic bed, "the they" have knowingly made.
Make me man as soon as my youngster
knowingly receives their very last coddle.
The unconditional love curdles from
your loving mother’s teat.
Make it matter despite what you moo to cattle.
Prod the brittle; the previously dilly-dallied say,
“Tagalongs, hogtied stowaway freeloaders with
the trade inside loading and shipping containers.”
Longtime division produced its remainders.
A cove far off the oceans cost.
A cove in a periwinkle sea,
frothing with a bacterial foam
whipping up these sweet
whipped creamed treats
and other delights.
A fondant atop it all
till the klutz ruination
curses cause clusters of
curse wordings together,
finding their bindings.
Shame soaks the rag that wiped away
a distressed and disastrous look upon face.
Words impact with a continuous compound fracture
under the masterful tongue's dismantling of the
peace talks upheld on the other hand.
riding a tractor
I reacted to its tread -
underneath put down
buried like a seed
watered and lit by the sun -
produced grateful fruit
what a shiny ride
blue skies, cotton clouds, straight back -
resistant to wind
troubles enhance croon
held up by the earth angels -
smiling at the youths
newbies want to ride
wisdom is reared on the seat -
knowingly, I pray
My hair is sable and silver
My skin has become a strange softness that I've never felt
but I do not want, no
I no longer lament my youth
What lies inside of me is timeless and eternal
I had many nights as the autumn moon, honey filled and glowing
relishing each dance with Persephone before she crawled back into Hades bed
Quietly I began brushing fingers with Demeter
Crones speak to each other in ways only we can understand
Soon my life will be winter
I smile knowingly, taking her hand
PREDICAMENTS
informal
&lyrical
figurative
self-indulgent
didactics
knowingly
re-cycled
prominent
confident
proportionate
reminders
dislocated
in
a
blurred
indelible
unconscious
of insights
He got on the bus,
Immediately they stare,
He pays,
The driver increases the fare,
He can't complain,
He doesn't want to walk in the rain
The bus is full,
Except for one seat,
Next to an elderly white woman,
She puts her bag on the seat,
The black boy sighs in defeat
At the next stop,
A white man comes on,
The woman removes her bag,
Like she didn’t just commit an act of racism
She smirks at him,
Knowingly,
He internalises this,
She smiles victoriously
For him it is only the beginning
My heart is always willingly, patiently waiting
For the life I think you and I will be creating.
But my mind is going stir-crazy wondering
When it is the next time you will be coming.
My soul is knowingly, faithfully waiting
For your further, deepening awakening.
But my ego is desperately reaching
For your affectionate acknowledging.
My body is longingly, achingly waiting
For an embrace that is so tenderly soothing.
But my being feels your own soul lingering
In my room, beyond an illusion that is fading.
My heart patiently paints a future so loving,
For you're the one for which I was searching.
But my mind's always impatiently crying
For our life I see: a life finally worth living.
I don't know why or when this happened to me.
Juggling with chores and learning to do it yourself.
Stranded alone with nowhere to go for help.
Somehow, I guess I knowingly did this to myself.
It was time to learn and accept maybe the hard way.
Life is not hanky dory and a comfy bed of roses always.
Finally, I got to learn that it is never too late.
A better opportunity might come over to any day.
Sometimes it is better to leave everything scattered all over.
Lost in thoughts and wandering in the dream land.
Let it go easy always and without complaints.
But when the door knocks, pull up your socks and roll over.
If you've a yen
(it's not zen)
you may bet your bottom dollar
while integrating yin yang cosmology
Chinese philosopher and scholar
Dong Zhongshu
(good old you know who)
favoured heaven worship results
over and above traditional cults
altho' a man well-read
he often wrote instead
yet to avoid confusion
knowingly said, 'Jump to assumption,
arrive wrong conclusion.'
Tingly skies full of surprise oh how I love when with surmise,
the little rascal aims his dart as if it were, poetic art !
Unpredictable seas with droplets that spray oh how the sharp rocks being where they lay,
Affects how sea nymphs stalk and capture their prey as if it were, a play !
Restless winds pervade the air oh how the clouds suggest a dare,
Looking like sheep jumping over fences oh how it stirs the sky and senses !
Crackling fire illuminating the shadows of the night oh how with mysteries of the light,
Animals will watch the humans make camp as if each camper is, a scamp !
Powerful gaze holding years of hope oh how with vulnerability and the will to cope,
Looks knowingly into the void as if it were, a mental sanctuary to be employed !
Unstoppable magnetism attracts us to one oh how unexpected, powerful and fun,
When cupid’s arrow aims for you, there isn’t much that you can do !
True animal story
One-legged seagull
sat on the roof near the chimney
it was a male gull, its feather
worn like he had been
in a battle and needed a rest
when my dog noticed the bird,
she barked the gull
shrieked, hate at first sight,
but for a truce
When the dog ignored
its presence and
the bird stopped teasing her
the kitchen had a flat roof
in the morning, the bird had flown
the dog picked at her food
on Sunday, she listened to the sermon
when the dog heard the priest say
something about angels
the dog knowingly wagged her tail
It's brought to you
as if sincere,
"The News"
truth be damned!
Knowingly false,
the agenda, deception
without compunction,
to what end?
Now its up to us
to decipher,
when the "Truth" are really lies!
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