You were T
^ h ^
A e R
N O
C H
v
When reality was unmoored and adrift
When life’s harshest winds ripped a rift
When ominous clouds loomed overhead
When anger leashed gloom tinged red
You were a ( ( (( VOICE )) ) ) of reason
When kindness and healing was sparse
When probable friendships were a farce
You gave me hope, you kept me grounded
When rebound of love’s alarms sounded
You are a J
E W E
L of the sea
A whirling tsunami washed you ashore
A precious rock, I’d come to adore
Like colorful sea glass, I’m eased by you
A gem of a gift gallant and true
A treasured heart about to unfurl
I’m destined to be your pearl of a girl
It was a perfect day, a sunny golden day.
I felt the gentle sweep of easy breezes,
the music of the wind.
It was my daily stroll around the neighborhood,
my daily clarity.
It was there, and then I beheld the cat,
the leashed Siamese cat, prowling and smelling.
A man clutched this leash, seeming absorbed,
seeming preoccupied by cat rubbing and sniffing,
cat prowling and surveying land and sky.
Never had I witnessed a leashed cat.
This was a way we controlled and humanized dogs.
Cats were always wilder, less human, and freer.
My usual steps brought me nearer to
the cat on a leash. The owner had his back to me,
he seemed unaware of my approach.
But Siamese cat offered me a predatory stare,
ready to pounce on my flopping shoelaces.
I knew then my shoes were doomed,
my laces would soon die.
No, I couldn’t stop laughing.
Birds
Rabbits
Red tailed hawks
Little chipmunks
Gorgeous butterflies
Feral cats cute kittens
Crazy tiny fast squirrels
Most majestic cool dragonflies
Some dogs leashed other dogs unbridled
Silent but smart, steady and swift barn owls
Animals creating euphoria
Compassionately loving partners
Nature's eloquent beautiful
Serene equilibrium
Like roseate brushstrokes
Upon heart's canvas
Humanity
Harmony
Cherish
Life
He sleeps through the breaking dawn,
As his dreams drift to worlds withdrawn,
Among his cell, shadows spawn,
His freedom's leashed, yet hope lives on.
Sly whispers echo through stone,
Speaking tales of paths unknown,
Beckoning him towards the throne
Of judgment he must face alone.
Yet his faith stands resolute still,
Praying freedom bends to will,
So he sleeps past dawn until
His dreams dance beyond the hill.
-
it twas evereth the 14th
and ladle had stilled consequence
perceptive decorum and froth's
constable would, could naught
cold heart and battled fart
bequeath to thee
a brothersome free
door and locksey
leashed a board in mercy
a wait, as bait, beside boyhood fate
to undress against
shallowed peasant
four returned to Ireland
bedside and tired
blankets paging in grass
ant's weary temperment at gas
a home a key
a star left he
the all might and his coward
to run the knights
round to Britain
i and i only minors scribes
have told in telling
of poor bottoms swelling
I'm the cells cavern
An orchestrated advance
The corridor the call
The snip the fall
Interior design in might
Out of castled walls flight
Terror in known streets
Publication and ceremony in defeat
They will have had we Rome
And no thing at door
Battle as framers wools
The third wall of a fine ants parish
Forward the Chinese admiral
It was awaited with huge anticipation,
Yet fear lingered, a quiet hesitation.
Like a shadow she wanted to get rid,
A dark presence that never quite slid
Still 'the evening' seemed in a breathless rush,
To meet the night- all hush-hush.
Did the fiery orb appear a tad ashamed?
Or had its youthful vigour been tamed?
Whatever the cause, time held its sway,
Dragging minutes, yet stealing the day.
Perfect moments, perched on the brink,
For a love journey where two hearts would sink.
If it had to begin, it should begin soon
Yesterday’s curse, replaced with today’s boon
Before the stars could claim the skies,
Her stars, too dear ever in her eyes.
She wished the furtive meeting done,
Emotions leashed, yet on the run.
He sat close, holding her hands
His gaze, his touch, asking her to make amends.
The sun had completely set, but for her, a dawn anew,
Seven years of stirrings now for this passionate brew.
sullen is this night
bearing the burden of toil
as footwalk grows bleak…
crushed weeds,
skeletal trees :
molussk and corn
wait not for anyone
while sandstones drift
mocking the light.
Against kohl shadows
time stalls
to maim common workers
peeling the dark...ebon
craving for innocent stars;
that even stalks weep
slapped by winds--
how in blood of silence
men, women,children
wrestle with indignity
leashed on tattered marrow ,
yet they reap hope
until night’s edge---
restless thoughts gnaw
and... they gaze past clouds
finding comfort in the rain.
A small vial,
I’ve nicked it,
A bottle of tequila,
Aren’t I a delinquent,
My heart is racing
Against my mind,
What a craze
To be foolish and hungry,
Must be clever,
even more cunning,
I’ll Regret this forever?
Never know ‘till I try…
Can’t forget the promise
I’m leashed to,
Said I wouldn’t again...
Now where to?
Maybe i’ll just tell him,
He’s doing the same kinda,
Even last night,
He told me if I felt up to it…
I saw its crooked shadow
dragging its mind along like a leashed dog.
It went out and came back in
fretting over its own begrudging existence.
This morning it peers out of a window,
looking to see if anything has changed -
nothing has.
I know it will be up all night
wondering where its days went,
where the lost and lingering hours
slipped between the cracks,
of one dawn after another.
It will be shutting a door on itself soon,
when I am on the other side
I will nail that door shut,
then walk undaunted.
into the timeless light,
with no regrets, and not even
a single afterthought.
Let the dead bury the dead.
Don't take as song, what the media cackles.
They're just bull horned harlots for politicians.
Who'd sell your marrow to the lowest bidder-
They lust for our division to maintain power.
For a people united is poison to them
(a cross in the face of a vampire).
Citizens united would mean term limits.
No more heavenly wage increases...
Their necks would be short leashed.
Insider trading would all but cease....
but only in a good citizen's dream.
Speech
Free speech,
is the power of one person,
to say, anything they like,
to have an opinion,
and to have it heard,
even if it is bad,
even if it is good,
it is the same.
Every person has a voice,
some speak to much,
some can not speak at all.
The difference,
the price of freedom...
fairly distributed among
the rich, the weak,
the poor,
the downtrodden.
The censored media,
cropping off the parts...
they do not care to address,
in favor of the ploys
they created
to make us believe,
what is not real
anywhere.
Critical thinking...
has been leashed,
and tied to a fire hydrant
in the public square.
He, or it...
is beaten daily,
to make sure
there is no life left
at all,
to fight.
Believe,
be still,
be silent...
Do as you are told.
You will not grow old,
as there are too many
of you.
There is not enough room for us,
those that know where the
food is kept,
underground in caves,
in the north,
in the south,
in the east,
and in the west.
Go hungry,
and starve.
It does not matter,
who...
you
are.
Half his mind is wandering loose
the other half leashed to a rabid poodle.
His toothy grin is as stable as a tropical monsoon.
He will internally combust one day,
if not, I will gladly light the fuse.
She sits in her old four door car
Jittery as a stick shift
All day every day
An old fashion woman
Smoking a pack of Camels
With all the windows rolled up
Goldfish
Staring out
Blowing bubbles in her dirty bowl
To the trolling park people
Who step from their slick driverless SUVs
Into the woods
With their dogs properly leashed
If only they knew
The poetry she was writing
Rhymes flicked away
To her spy ashtray
Who are they
Anyway?
No better than her
As she
Hides
From her lost job gonner kids and Fentanyl bibs
Q will show her the way
She ain’t so alone
With her hours of boredom
And Trump Putin and Xi
Khamenei
Saved like treasure
In her crumpled hands
She’s noting the march of our deaths
Every day
Out here in the open
Not the other way around
As I had intended for this poem
There’ll be a time
Soon
When she unleashes her door
And gets out
Breathes the same air
Armed by the unholy words
Take back what is yours.
How would it be
if the many versions of your imperfect self
were like dogs
that you kept until they grew old,
and you not wanting to put them down
when their time came?
You wouldn’t need to teach
them anymore,
or keep telling them to let go
of your past.
You could take them for a walk
leashed of course,
while you took those most necessary
steps
away from yourself.
Let me fly on upon the heron's wing.
Provide me a home that is not aflame.
Allow me the voice I need to sing.
Your whirlwind, full of my shame.
Leashed, choking my vocal cords.
I stand only to be knocked down.
This home, protecting me with prison guards.
Only allowed dry air, never to drown.
To test waters is only met with your disappointment.
The tears, the screaming, they drown me worse than water.
I fly on that heron wing only to feel poignant.
The love you had for me, all of it — I slaughter.
You strip my flesh before I leave; using it for your vitality.
Wandering around as a hollowed out soul in the cold.
The child you raised — alone with nothing — fighting for mortality.
A broken toy you once played with, you sold.
Left in a world of faceless faces, learning how to grow up.
All because I tested those godforsaken waters you detested.
Stuck in the arms of life as my heart gets cut.
These barren streets are now where I am destined.
~
Written On: December 12th, 2021
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