Facts ain't the best way to start or win time.
Lies ain't the worse way to lose or end past.
Burden ain't the force to push away right...
Freedom ain't the peace to feel false relief...
Facts should rather be best way wisdom climb...
Lies should rather be worse way truth's pains blast...
Burden should rather be force dreams hold tight.
Freedom should rather be peace, hassles brief.
May be if its worth win, facts could time growth.
May be if its pains end, lies could last long...
May be if right dreams, burden could bask loath.
May be if peace sings, freedom could be strong...
The beginning of wisdom trip fact's load,
Misconception's reign can't burden its road.
A sudden shift
I felt my spirits lift
Then the spotlights' glare
And I'm left standing there
Too new to identify:
An imperfect alibi
Their surgical stares
Dismembering me
With wry deft precision
Paralyzed by pompous glares
Cursing my decision
To com here willingly
And climb their golden stairs
Their spotlights fade
No jury heard my case
Their judgments made
Their cruelty bares one face
Their hearts: a crimson blade
Their eyes bestow disgrace
On my low inferior grade
Am I too much a fool to care
My brands blazed as I stepped
The high and mighty scare
Easily as my forbearance crept
In crushing bounds echoing
In the silence seized.
All eyes hollowed as one fainted
Their hallowed night tainted
My mottled old soul sainted
And thus, the rest of the night
Fell before me
On bended knee.
Oh, how I loath a formal party
The rumor mill is printing already
Some joker introduced as, Eddie
Ask If me and Joan, from accounting-
Were going steady.
From there-
The casualties just kept mounting
(“Before the Door”, 2023, original encaustic)
The older I get
The less concern I have
About ever being a saint,
But I’m sure that was a motivation
When I was younger
Although I’d have been loath to admit it.
Being a saint means being perfect,
At least in the final effect
If not the cause,
Being good enough to redeem one’s mistakes,
Help others and even make the world
And universe a better place.
Or so I thought.
Now, as I care less
About being saintly,
I see perhaps it means less about changing
Than simply acknowledging even celebrating
Others, the world, the universe, Life
Exactly as it is,
For the perfect creation
It’s always been.
(11/12/25)
In the sanctum of the sanctum sanctorum,
Lies the quiet hope of mankind's grace.
A whisper of peace through sacred decorum,
Behind the altar — a hallowed place.
Dark clouds weep where light refrains,
While clear skies hold back the flood.
Upon the altar, truth remains
Carved in fire, stone, and blood.
How do we speak of both?
A beginning — and an end?
Before the altar, hearts grow loath
To trust the truth it dares to send.
How do we name the sunrise, the fall?
The dusk that dies, the dawn that breaks?
What holds the night? What breathes through all?
Where shadow bends, the altar wakes.
On what hangs the vault above?
On what is the Earth suspended?
We never asked — nor dreamed thereof —
The questions we’ve pretended.
How do we carry both?
The burden of life and death?
The weight of chance, of silent oaths
Unspoken with each breath?
We should have searched with open minds,
But turned away, afraid to see —
No Heaven, no Hell — just threads we bind
In webs of our fragility.
What does it matter — what we know?
What truth does knowledge ever show?
At journey's end, when time runs slow,
Behind the altar, all shall glow.
Nutty smells of processed beans
To bedchamber from cuisine
Awaken the sluggish veins
Enjoying the robust steams
With dawn's blush of healing beams
Start not your fresh day with loath
Relish the sips with its froth
Place: 1st
If an apple a day
keeps the doctor away
to such proverb
he'd not subscribe
as the income lost
to defray his cost
foolish he would ascribe
and instead
if looking sickly feeling ill
on my deathbed
a home visit plus pill
he'd quickly prescribe
as a patient I used to be
but now a customer that is me
and the Hippocratic Oath
he ducks like a quack
as to quote it he is quite loath
8/4/2025
Countless individuals
have become self willed.
Seems each day that passes
innocent people are killed.
Shootings and stabbings
have become the norm.
To society’s prescript,
many loath to to conform.
Perpetrators all receive
what we call “due Process.”
So they’re given a lawyer
who excels at aggress.
Because oft times the penalty
doesn’t fit the crime.
Some are granted pardons
precluding doing their time.
Many times the perpetrators
upon return to the street.
Unwilling to seek a job
and with others compete.
They return to the same life
they failed to escape.
They were given second chances
to slash, shoot, loot and rape.
I Loath rain
Each drop akin a piercing sword,
Like swords dropping from mighty lord
Weighing my pain, and ravishing my heart
Sharp as light, wrecking my might,
Taking me captive as my heart is light,
From an extent unknown
To depths I've never known
And my world?
It's all but raining since you left
I sit by side of nothing
I see the view of abyss
A vague light is all there is, faint and frail
Shimmers of your shadow
Haunting me like a dying tale
My world is raining
As if rain is all that ever was
Grief lingers as my emotions wither into oblivion
A pale world is all it has become
lost in echoes, deaf and numb
A world ablaze with golden beam
Is now a graveyard void of gleam
The memories pain
The echoes stay
For haunting love I'm still it's prey
STANZA 1
Love at first sight,
Was like the happiness of birches birds.
The lightening of the innermost light,
Desired to be protected with girds.
STANZA 2
Set the bow to defeat her sorrow,
But to her, devil may care.
Ready to marry her tomorrow,
But to her was a nightmare.
STANZA 3
The world even testified that she is my dimeworth.
But all my heart and inner love ended up in tears.
I returned to my inner love with loath.
And my heart was grieved with fear.
STANZA 4
I took all my Morse,
Because I backed the wrong horse.
Meet me—by the abandoned houses—>there
not here<—, for it’s a danger! to be seen
in such ill company as I__I mean:
if strangers knew how strange was our affair,
they’d **** us!—meet me when night has grown fair,
bring gifts (flowers) (for nothing’s more obscene
in such situation as we are keen).
Though I’m well loath to leave you unaware,
you’ll must need hear silence ‘stead my full name;
—(it’s customary practice;)—tell me not
yours either; I want to know as little
as possible,—so to go without blame,
and still to lick the flame:to spill the plot:
to linger - - - on your delightful spittle.
I sense here some things sinister—a scent
of sulphur, sulking in a sultry pit;
a serpent’s hiss, expressed from space unlit;
a warm spell spilling from some seething vent;
I find now some things filthy—foul ferment
foaming, frothing; a gaseous, gurgling slit
discharging fetid, festering, sour spit;
malignant mold in cold, cracking cement;
So languid, loath, obtuse I trepidate
on into the black bowels of my home.
Gagging back a nausea’s tepid bubble,
shivering a shudder that won’t abate,
discover I a gory catacomb.—
Woah… I see well now how bad my trouble!
I watched him tear our democracy down
And break the promises of his oath
I posted protest memes and news
A degree of ultimate loath
Now our allies are all gone
The free world nations be
I will continue to post his lies
Until they come for me
France gave us a great gift long ago
Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses
In a dictatorship no longer rings true
A falling empire as each day passes
Canada and Mexico our long time friends
No longer treated as they should be
I stand with freedom and democracy
Until they come for me.
They came for migrants and honest judges
They came for our nation’s security
I will protest until they are gone
Or until they come for me,
Look in the chamberpot
There you will find
Some agent of darkness
The Foul Fiend left behind
The sordid element
The secrets they keep
And the dank crannies
Wherein they do creep
There is no sin so scarlet
That they will not partake
They would pawn their own mothers
For foul pharmacy's sake
Note that these scoundrels
Have fallen from grace
Even beasts of the field
Loath the sight of their face
Hail thee, dear friend!
And be Utmost alert
For drug fueled thieves
Lurk unseen in the dirt
And most of all, Attend!
To safekeep your very life
Madmen in the shadows
Delight in your strife
As i dreamt of days passed by,
(Darn it!) Takes a sprout.
I looked to my right,
And i looked to my left,
For how i saw no passers-by,
"Darn it!" Gets the mouth.
Regrets flood in of "Why? Just why?", the floods make up a sea,
There is now a vicinity to self in which am loath,
And cry to the self for leave,
Its only when the eyes dry up,
And the fog has its retreat,
How infinite the self is in the void.....
"I see! I see! I see!"
I Stare Into the Water
I stare into the water
(The water stares back at me)
In chime with Terra Mater;
I expend no energy.
Without a paddle or wind to sail,
My prospects are unavailing;
I restrain myself not to turn tail
And so sit quietly, waiting.
Better there were a rising storm
That forces challenging the elements;
Then I could stroke these listless arms
And make for the lee of Canoe Island.
Though I cherish the life given,
I dream of a different place.
This cannot be the eye’s intention,
Timeless, on an unrippled lake.
To create beings dumb and useless,
Void of expansion of faculties,
Suppresses conscious awareness
That forever is death realized.
A blight cast adrift with stigma
Whose destiny is nullified
Because I’m trapped in a quagmire,
Loath to idle in paradise.
***
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