Long Asymmetric Poems
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I think I would love if
never having been taught:
Love, a fiber within my fibers
of being, an ethnic beat within my
vibratory skin--resounding, rhythmic
pulses of heartfelt reflection....
Oh, there is rhythmic refrain
even in the seeming tone-deaf;
symmetry even in the asymmetric –
for most sound begins long before
the audition, and patterns
are preformed by our hidden
attributor, the unseen architect of
all destiny, omnipotence we
sense behind existence, close
as self while elusive as a shooting
star....
To know is to stop living –
and to live, is to love
what we don't know, while
embracing for no other
reason.... The walking dead
fewer than one thinks, though
a deep trench through the soul of
experience.
*Image of Child Sad Suffering provided by Pixabay.
Not Of This Earth
Poetic Form: Narrative
Asymmetric mistrals warp speckled vaporous pallidness toward rhythmless voids. Obviates an evacuating azure as a midday star pivots to a twilight qualm. Numinous absent souls of supine prying pupils, yon ethers sinister obscurities, caught in stained oblique ocular whites. Drunken sanguineous veins to gluttony as impish tinkers sporadic doubts riveting telltale images. Metallic aerials ousted the clouds to unperceived iniquity.
Exhausting times since the alien armada infested Earth in a furrow of carnage. Abominable hordes disembarked, eviscerated whole metropolises. Hideous beings, an abysmal sight, smothered the remote vestiges of our civilized world. Cities ere their decimation had numbers reduced in fleeing desperation. The annihilation of life on Earth engrossed thoughts upon the scraps of humanity left. Ravenous creatures generating utter rampage to and abroad, slighting none to decay. Be they mortals or breathing existences of our lesser kingdom, perished in the bloodletting. Some kept as breeders for the succession of consuming time.
A cohort strung of plain folks, thrust as one in a nameless realm, sought ephemeral refuge in a subterranean hollow expanse. Bestill for the scarcity of fragile credence as the intrepid one, espy a grotesque glistening of crimson blood, secreting from the sheathed hoariness of fangs. Sentient rouses heedful footfalls per monstrosity exposed jawbone, that swapped shrill for snorts, neath laden eyes that had shrewdly scowling luminous orbs. Creepy anvils pierced hairline, afeared incus, sensitively measures close octaves, spurs the labyrinth's nerves. Alas, its vulgar pelt of bulky fur stretch hither and fro, bars clamors reach.
Cavernous chambered partitions mimic as trepidation ebbs nevertheless. Unceasing progress to that bemused destiny, as anonymous atrocities, plague each within their shells, e'er crucifying the last semblance of their true selves. Ardent impulses seeping via their lithe ruby channels, crossing neath the bits of their betraying skins, as they escape the nebulous sepulchral. Beasts at 6 o'clock, tho' what unknown lurks yon pits facade, save a future yet to be titled.
2021 May 12
____________________________
The monsoon when leaves stagnant water pools, it provides a fertile maternity ward for mosquito larvae to transform into winged terrorists. When this happens, it is not the number alone, but their single-minded purpose. Mosquito’s proboscis has six microscopic needles: two pierce the skin, two serrate like saws, one injects saliva to prevent blood from clotting, letting the last one suck the blood. So, in man-mosquito conflict there is no doubt who wins in an asymmetric war. One side has about 20 million years of evolution against man’s mere two.This ditty, set as extended limerick with a rhyme scheme AA/BB/CC/DD/EE/A, laments.
_______________________
In this man-mosquito’s long conflict,
It is clear, who will the trophy lift.
For man’s two million years
Bug’s ten-time more means tears,
And going by this clock
Man’s a kid on the block,
Who has bare hands as guns
To fight core competence
Of bugs, it sure occurs
To me, men are suckers,
Mankind’s not perhaps God’s chosen gift.
________________________
Happenings | 21.09.2026 | humour, men, mosquitoes, war, win, Limerick
As two limericks:
In this man-mosquito’s long conflict,
It is clear, who will the trophy lift.
For, man’s two million years
Bugs’ ten-time more means tears,
Man’s defence is when easily split.
With bare hands as his only poor guns,
Against bugs on their blood-sucking runs,
Six needles when prick skin,
No wonder, who caves in—
Men are not Creation’s chosen sons!
I blink my eyes and then the world is gone.
Open once again to see some peons upon the lawn.
They came to hear the Lion yawn and swipe a wife by dawn.
That's why I keep my pride and believe,
to conceive that it's respite is my reprieve.
But you yuppies be just mere pawns in the grand scheme;
placed at rank 2 file C.
I treat myself to treats I don't need to ask the priest.
I fill a lady's niche when God's dead like Friedrich Nietzsche.
I'm an autonomous man, the world needs me.
Due to greedy deeds, I lost the lot of you to petty thievery.
Now standing orthogonal to the bishop you orthodox Cis.
Tearing holes in the fabric of time while mother nature sits and knits that.
Amidst a scrimmage over minish mishaps, fisticuffs and misfired mitts with whiplash.
Hexed by wind and turbulent syntax.
As activists vehemently flail at the fascist crux; only to be met by impasse.
Making my attempt to love exclusively an outward expression;
a barrage of affection bombarding the good intentions of a meta-man’s vision.
Otherwise known as fortified Freudian defense mechanisms.
To deal with ideals in an asymmetric system.
Oh but I pray praise that I am what I be.
Hallow thy be virile amongst a creed of faulty seeds.
Yet I’m an enantiomer, a Chiral Beast;
my courage can never be superimposed upon the fear of defeat.
Finally granted with the Coupe de Gras when disagreements meet.
As if graced by chance, I advance with the apex of a Sword’s vertice.
Striking clean from the left to then evade your deceit.
I take a seat while a woman cleans my wounds with peace.
Ahh but even in victory, the warrior’s woe must be debriefed.
We, children love to build lego blocks
Our knacks never run out of stocks;
We can make miniature city,
People, animals, houses, flowers
And a lot more! So colorful and pretty!
Legos are our favorite toys,
Bringing us laughter, smiles and joys;
Girls make dolls and kitchen wares,
Boys make cars, robots, towers
And while playing, we all love to share!
Legos help us think collaboratively and logically,
Combining shapes and colors beautifully;
We make many 2-D and 3-D shapes,
We're symmetric and asymmetric figure builders
Our great creativity leaves you in awe, mouth in gapes!
simple
refined
unapologetically elegant
words used to describe a beauty that lingers within
buttons
freckles
width of a finger
hidden in quiet places for only the astute to see
folds &wrinkles, shadows &seams
soft borders that hold back a grace that overflows
sifting
straining
gently seeping flow
a pouring out of details to light the world around
Hard, Cold, Unkind or Uncaring.
Unknown things that cannot encroach upon brilliance
tender
thoughtful
meek &mild
understated pleasures both in gift and in receipt
shifting then lowering… an upturning of the face
balancing by the unspoken order of levels in space
asymmetric and undulating - slightly askew
unexpected effects of a stunningly natural stance
corners
quiet
peace or solace
found only by those who would venture to seek
I live in middle land between fuzzy bottom
and the high hazy skies
I peer down quantum wishing-wells, waves entangle
observed as they collapse
I scan beyond forever where dark matter lurks
in unforeseen disguise
I think I am, I blink, ... something is shifting there
reality perhaps
I count the zeroes descending beneath my eyes
to out of sight below
I sum tens of noughts piling to the very brink
of distant space and time
I ask why half-way along this fourth dimension
our knowledge seems to grow
I ponder my vantage, asymmetric centre
position so sublime
I play with grateful gods gathering me in close
where when can be no more
I move by osmosis, membrane passing on through
the other side of hope
I absorb persona essence, no hereafter
no self was here before
I am continuous love, joy and pain caressed
I am the learning-scope
I seem potent but feel a much greater power
the birth of potential
I flow with constant change, buoyed up by warm current
rising through the ocean
I feel procession from the dizzy atomic
to cosmic sequential
I record the dancing rim of life, strange song soothed
holographic lotion
I stir prime numbers, multiple integer broth
then fractions of the whole
I greet the old ones, memories morph and cuddle
sprinkling their magic hue
I mingle many species, their varied voices
shape the galactic goal
I embrace fallen youngsters, stricken babies scream
all pleading to renew
I swing with orchestral relatives, out of time
off-beating ticking clock
I watch minds simplify, beguiled by certainty
discordant chords strumming
I am blown by the erratic winds of zeitgeist
zig-zagging round the block
I pause to query, am I this zany creature
half-way to becoming?
Your hair gathered in creamy layered,
Mirror into style where the wind rose,
With liquid gold comb brightly flared,
Today embraces the color you choose.
Where your beauty goes with the glow,
Flapping in royalty reigns, we can see
The resemblance where the daisies grow,
Fringe smiling on that face many want to be.
You had a different shade a year ago
Tarnished with brush, rain, and snow.
I see your new look cool saturating hue,
Crown in the turbulent perfumed window.
Startling views fill with hairline curves,
Where have the black pearls design gone?
Give yourself dimensions with the magic drapes,
The contour of new chignon catching on.
Nature never needs to ask for change of light
Nor find reasons why the sunset has faded,
With warmth, your personality is shining bright,
Natural beauty and love make the finest grade.
Both Sunrise and sunset are reflected here
Different hairstyle reflects different personality,
As you look at the well-set glow in the mirror,
Braid lengths drift shortly with mesmerizing beauty.
By measure, the aim was uniquely different
The new look has found the place to display
Asymmetric flare, tease and renew temperament,
Of weaken flakes that last year’s texture blew away.
When the Windrush lingers on top of your head
And try to spoil your secret bun of loveliness,
Your naiad airs roam too indelible unfaceted
from the grandeur that your portrait possesses.
The dreadlock which flows down to the seas,
In freedom roll rocking from restraining view,
Tradition and celebration bring the world to its knees,
Crop clean, a fantasy that shall always be you.
Don't shoot me down.
Don't start to frown,
It's past my pay grade.
I'm just Her messenger.
QueenMother DNA
has Her final
non-violent first say.
She's polypathic
and gracefully green.
Love's systemic polyphonics,
math paths I've never zero-seen
or heard tell of polynomials
"Green refines great healthy bits of change,"
She ecologically gloats
then quietly WinWin votes
for dipolar ZeroZone ranges.
What's your ZeroSum
Ego/Eco binomial identity
worth to you?
A one-stick of bubbling zero-gum?
Plug and Play into the late great sacred Matriarchal,
Win +1.00 universal percent
balancing not not ZeroYin-Squared health
not quite so loss of Green
long-term
Red-Patriarchal.
Find yourself a WinWin multiculturing network
filled with webbed flow
paid-forward economies
thick as a nutritional MotherTree forest
restoring justice to night-owl wisdom clerks
Calculating Whole Open System nests
warm wet womb nurturing life
loving ZeroSum positive/negative
double-negative
regenerative v degenerative
asymmetric nature-spirits
nondual body-minds
binary
bilateral
bicameral hyphenated pest-nests
WinWin ready to influence health opinions
and nontrialistic wealth-choice feelings
sometimes more beautifully appealing
than ZeroZone revealing
Win/Lose retributive exchange dominions.
Your first heart beat
took place in My ZeroZone womb,
warm and swimmingly wet,
breathing in ego-shaping
positive polypathic potential identity
to breathe out into My eco-storied future
integrity of Earth's revolutioning
4D ElderRight sacred regenerative dominance
greets 4D Left ZeroSum deducing
inductive focal-tacit
explicating formed experience
framed memories
implicating effluent holistic
Open Systemic
open sesame
open urgent
pregnant time for 2020
ZeroSum home and business delivery
Polynomial Ego-One
equals Eco-ZeroZone
not not polynomial geometric
asymmetric positive balance
as breathing in natural left embodied
predicts further WinWin ecopolitics
breathing out spiritual ElderRight
Matriarchal experience
of green Earth's non-sectarian
not not ZeroSum healthy pasts
for wealthy futures.
Don't shoot me down.
Don't start to frown,
It's past my not not ZeroSum pay grade.
I'm just HerIntegrity's potential messenger.
Showers of stardust on continuous flow in Cosmos
sprinkling splendour in dark turquoise sky,
silvery spangles glowing as blooming stars.
Wonder of periwinkle stars twinkling
glistening glittering
on tapestry of stardust.
Stardust sprinkles lovely lustre on Autumn leaves
Stardust shining in Moonbeam
along with amorous dream
on meteor showers.
Bursting stardust in cosmic glow
with trail of silhouette on Milky Way.
Nebulae showing asymmetric distribution
of stardust in opulence.
Luminous starry sky pour stardust
like showers of blessings
from parents and grandparents
once so close, but now no more.
Starburst : Flakes fine
spread stardust,
blinking sparkling !
Shiny lattice of shadows to cast
a network of rue and rapture
to capture sensing
sprinkling of stardust.