I have been sitting around for fifty-two years in strife
Still in the box, wasting away, claimed by no one
Other merry mushroom canisters have had a life
but not me, I am afraid. I have had no joy or fun.
But wait, there is hope, says a spoon in a sleeve.
I have a feeling there might be a reason to say hooray.
Merry mushroom did not react, no reason to believe
He was sold on Ebay and put to use that very day!
The spoon was sold to the same buyer, and they became friends.
At night they told their tales, and laughed, glad to have come to these ends
He lost his wife, his kids, his life, his hope
discovered grandma’s recipe for peyote
baked it up and became one with the earth
landed as part of the desert, this man rebirthed
as a piece of nature, he is pleased at himself
a part of Arizona’s rocked up cliff shelf
the wind has welcomed him and made him a home
he no longer laments, or feels sad or alone
when his relatives visit, they feel his spirit there
in the desert air, he is happy, without a care
Peyote has made him excited to be a piece of nature now
His grandma’s recipe, which nurtures him from stem to bow
Is it my grief?
That i behold?
That i knoweth ongoing sorrow
Waterless doves?
None other, a city?
Just? As a city dweller?
Dwelling, in mired filth?
Unconquered mime, play!
At once! Be tainting…..
Project at them
Boredom? You wandered…..
You are the twinkle of my eye.
A trance like state.
If I died for you, would you die for me?
Til death do us part.
I will hold you for a lifetime with my breath.
You got my little black heart and it's dying in your hands.
Im lucky that you stand in my way.
A mosaic of love and ache.
In your gaze, i find both solace and sorrow.
Everytime I fall I hear laughing from above.
You can drag the lake, you won't find me.
In the shadows, I gather fragments of strength.
To weave a tapestry from the threads of my pain.
Isolate my flaws.
You were my fairytale.
You die before actually dying.
And I have reasons to believe that.
Everything i love turns to gravestones.
WHERE THE GARDEN SHINES ABOVE
ABOVE GEMS AND GOLD
WHERE THE FIRST FAMILY LAUGHS
IN GROVES AND MEADOWS
WHERE CHRIST, THE WHITE LAMB, FROLICS
IN THE GRASS WITH THE FIRST MAN
Where the desert darkens below
Below rocks and dirt
Where the last army laments
In caves and wastelands
Where Satan, the black wolf, hunts
On bare earth with the last man
Life’s script is pre-writ
And Fate looms large upon it,
Resigned, we just quit,
React to be circumspect,
Destiny wishes, we act.
So let down by men
Fate wails, what use free will then?
O strive best ye can,
It is no use to react,
Act, force Fate change fated facts.
_________________________
Tanka |06.04.2018 revised in Aug 2023|
Chess perhaps be the only game
That mirrors life men live—so tame:
King, as men in kingdom,
Cannot move in freedom,
Queen, any which way in the frame!
If king gets no long rope,
Is there any a hope
For poor men worth their worthy name?
________________________________
Limerick |06.08.2023| humour, men
For The Massively White-Haired
And comments on it he'd heard:
The ever youthful old,
Who cannot his vexed arms fold;
Could keep wishing to head hide,
As folks troop out for a ride...
For those Nature ate their pie,
Who would soonest breathe a sigh
And they must recover it
Or fall into nearby pit...
One thing to like about Dye:
To Disliked colors Good-Bye;
The fainter ones on garments
That keep igniting laments;
For Grey Hairs and sickly ones
Every strand changing at once...
Dye for seekers to not die
And help their busy roads ply.
Broken Seashells,
canvasses of lobsters
tossed ashore by waves
are an open cemetery
with endless laments...
as green seaweeds
decorate them morbidly
if they were flowers!
I look around this beach
not frequented by a wanderer;
the strong stench of fish
is too unpleasant to sensitive noses,
but it's the perfect dinner
for those hungry gulls that swish
and land on their corpses!
Beer cans and water bottles
not disposed in nearby bins
attract rats with extreme hunger
and finding little, they chomp chasing after
the mackerels wiggling on the scorching sand;
oh, they happily feast on them and hiss...
keeping away the squeaking seagulls!
This abandoned beach once was
as pristine as the bluish water,
nobody littered it and people
walked barefoot seeking their favorite spots,
not getting cuts on fragmented seashells;
then hurricane Sandy came and left it desolate...
no souls returned to their homes,
and it became a ghost town forever...
and the few who stayed carried fright in their guts!
Ten million people in my city have I.
I see all these bodies, and I want to cry.
They use so much juice!
They wear ugly puce.
I wish they’d move to Singapore, bye and bye.
I do not like to see my face floating
At the foot of a ewer,
nor in drops of water, nor in the glassy eye
of a slaughtered goat.
I am beautiful, but water and cloudless gems
distort, they are torturers of disfigurement.
Since I saw my reflected beauty
I have been unable to mirror that perfection.
I have ardently endeavored
to emblazon the beacon of that first time,
when I, suffused in beams of crystalline air,
beheld my countenance clear
yet now I am caught, caulked, and diked
forever dogged by a stark magicking
from ever parading that delicate radiance,
that inaugural art of my gift,
my exquisite features.
Yet ever my mind’s eye returns
to that translucent and timeless time
that empyreal morn, so fine and fair
where I beheld what I thought was there
and believed upon it.
high above
the victors sing,
I rush to greet the land
despite protests
from broken wings
I curse that sword
how could Michael best... me?
how could I fall to him
when my war was with He?
He,
Him,
His domain was all time and space
jealous eyes let serpent tongue
twist jealous minds
but now we all fall from grace
these comrades of mine
are no comrades at all
mere pawns in my plans
now all the pieces fall
falling,
falling still,
down to the mud and clay
heaven was once home
now, an eternity away
soon I shall lay
where meek mortals stand
the indignity
but alas,
He has more to His plan
His plan is Always,
down further I shall go
to fire without the light
to magma, to brimstone
only fools pity my fate,
for if only they knew
I,
the most fallen of angels
had worse planned
for you
Falling Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
May 27th 2020
Lamenting love rest upon my humble heart,
May thy candle burn quickly before thy night…
Loves lament lies lingering from far apart,
For the slings and arrows deploy and depart,
Solitary stars sacrificed amidst dying light…
Lamenting love rest upon my humble heart,
A broken hearts graveyard a calamitous compart,
Release my soul this warmless winters white…
Loves lament lies lingering from far apart,
Your love has harpooned a distrustful dart,
Like a raging rioting roar with a bitter bite…
Lamenting love rest upon my humble heart,
Lost in love, arrested & abandoned by black art,
Your voiceless words are daggers that ignite…
Loves lament lies lingering from far apart,
For you, my love has become an infamous impart,
Where tedious tears testify tenderly in twilight…
Lamenting love rest upon my humble heart,
Loves lament lies lingering from far apart.
Jan.21.2020
Your Best 2019-2020 Villanelle
Sponsored by: William Kekaula
Placed 5'th...Thank You
Love still laments, when it was charred into ash
and left to fill the imprints of yesterday's footprints
leaving no tracks to follow
As a soul's heart is thrown into the Cimmerian shade
wandering, unwillingly in forsaken mists of perpetual pain
searching through abandoned brambled reasons...which scar the flesh
still wet from vacant hands which held this love
before its blood spilled upon the sacred floor of trust, staining it for eternity
The soul lingers to collect its pieces before they are carried away
with the windblown desolate days that have deserted tomorrow
where nothing exists...but memories
that cross the night sky, leaving an etched trail
burned into the hollow eyes of loneliness
3/10/19
I
~ He died in my arms -
life flowing out with His blood ...
as I wept red tears ~
II
~ I was once beauty -
branched full with life abiding ...
now I am but cursed ~
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