Long Bravura Poems
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Mideast Peace: Oxymoron
Though descendent of Jews,
I feel boggled at the brutal,
nasty and wanton war between
Israelis and Palestinians.
Many innocent victims
bred to know and hate their enemy
impossible mission
to reconcile one Semitic
group of peoples from another.
The bloody English
begat and fomented
debacle between Israelis and Palestinians.
little more than a century ago,
particularly usurping territory
courtesy aggressive premise
might makes right.
The human species
hell bent on making war
reprisals rank as a ,
and can never even the score
I harken back to childhood,
when our family lived
at Lantern Lane, and the Dailey's
(who threw rocks at Georgie
our Dalmation/Boxer)
rightfully earned before their time
the title fear thy neighbor
an altercation such
as aforementioned above,
would easily earn a spot
on Investigation Discovery
though deadly crimes violently hardcore
reenacted minus the explicit killing
fields not healthy for children
and other living things,
nevertheless even the most pious
and peace loving
exhibit fervent bloody ardour
if kith and kin held at gunpoint.
The annals of civilization
since time immemorial
replete with chronicles
of battlefield bravura
touting (with laurels of profuse praise)
for ultimate sacrifice
unnaturally, unstintingly, and unwaveringly
bravely giving oneself
to father/mother land.
Beneath the surface of the skin
we all bleed;
mortal kombat inked
in Mesolithic Europe
likewise dates to circa 10,000 years ago,
and episodes of warfare appear
to remain "localized
and temporarily restricted"
during the Late Mesolithic
to Early Neolithic period in Europe.
Idyllic as the fantastical utopian yen,
I feel pessimistic patriarchal wheelman
who steer autocratic
leviathan of state (witness Tiananmen
Square student-led demonstrations
known in Beijing, China
as the June Fourth Incident
lasting from 15 April to 4 June 1989)
cuz twentieth century ruthless demagogues
wanted to squelch
pro-democracy movement,
and not only stole demonstrators thunder
but forcefully co-opted with lightning force
their toys such as:
sophisticated erector set and playpen
for dolls loving buoys Barbie and ken
the former coming to life
as a miniature equestrienne
experiencing magical realism.
Years have past but still can’t quell… won’t snub Orwell’s “the Moon under Water” pub as did cast a vast spell which did last….but pray tell what the hell should we call the restaurant of our dreams….which memes bestows seems to have all the right themes…glows how about “the Sunbeams below Sea”
Fables about higgledy piggledy chairs & tables
Cradles candles & scandals under their gables
Culinary cables run free no bland brand labels
Feast on every bit of the beast gourmet stables
Restaurant procured and manicured by a savant
Chef the ref hits the right clef is the commandant
An epicure tincture the cure for any bon vivant
An apothecary of wonders dispensed you adore
A third space with grace for either rich or poor
Service smooth as lace sings like a troubadour
Sweet as the smell after a downpour of petrichor
To attract and have a pact with every locavore
Delightful detour will always get highest score
Every encore makes sure come back for more
Beacon of light for us with appetite of a labrador
Another secret lover met palate whet paramour
The restaurateur not only a brassy raconteur
Flavour to savour taste bud flood provocateur
With bravura not bravado true entrepreneur
Not only an aficionado a classy connoisseur
Food looking pretty thanks to chef de partie
Maitre d’ quick with a ditty and slick repartee
Never sh*tty always a pity if they’re not witty
Cheer for every peer & the atmosphere is free
Sanctuary of treats from nearby streets so gritty
Harmonious not parsimonious not overly twee
Sybaritic symphony its rhapsody down to a tee
Glee of a miner finding gold & going on a spree
Umami tsunami a melody for my old china & me
Marvel at the majesty of a well woven tapestry
Pedigree and fancy free filigree the place to be
Treacle toned well honed academy of alchemy
Push the glutton button for a gourmands epiphany
Charms calms any qualms are like balms of apricity
Nowt finer for any city diner than elan & bonhomie
That it seems would be a restaurant of our dreams
Teems with reams of gleams “Sunbeams below sea”
Airless Man Caves
by Odin Roark
We love to beat ourselves up.
We venture out from our cavern of dread
to once again feel the frustration of looking
for that special dance partner
in an empty ballroom,
our sanity always on the verge of…
Yes, that’s what we do.
We look for a finite connection,
for the single answer
to suffering’s multiple questions.
How adolescent our bravura
as we trust the armor
fortifying our exposed heart
to always fend off
any conspiratorial emotions,
buried childhood remembrances,
parental battles with each other and you.
How real-time naive we remain,
conceptualizing happiness
without a willingness to pay a personal price,
a real experience beyond the concept of love,
where we learn full enjoyment of pleasure
is bundled expertly with experienced pain.
We wonder how our heart can be aflame,
but never open because starting fires
is the only passion we understand.
Or…
Upon losing ourselves in the excitement,
the euphoric possibility that “this is it,”
we continue avoiding the first glimpse
of our inherent and delicate vulnerability,
the tripping lever that sends us packing.
How persistent the obsession,
our battling the dread of intimacy
while remaining infatuated with possibilities,
rejecting reality that commitment
requires acceptance of an end game.
But, oh how seductive the rear-view mirror,
that ever present tool of caution,
ever ready to warn us of danger,
only to be ignored in the heat
of our high-speed commitment
to self-rage.
Our crash and burn habit
is often the only way
to chalk up another entry,
into our victimization syndrome.
For we create the same arrogant bluster
over and over,
allowing frustration to turn into anger
into self-loathing,
into sucking all the oxygen
out of our man-cave.
There is another alternative, however…
Step outside our cave of conceit.
Avoid the suffocation of false pride.
Take a deep breath of what’s beyond just us.
Epiphanies await the courageous.
seminal squirt didst sanctify
an anonymous boulder
when mercury dipped below
hashtag mark registering colder
than usual temperatures circa
winter of year 2000 in proximity
to the sacred chapel
at Valley Forge, Pennsylvania
(house zing carillon player)
rifling thru manilla folder
first inn search of apropos
mailer daemon organ muse sic,
thence finely pitted secretly riddled with holes
encoded sheet threaded thru bell jar contrivance
sans, handy dandy mechanical holder
to accompany prurient powerful phallic pang
bubbling (like the dick kens), and didst smolder
especially, cuz a free ranging
NON GMO, puss in boots
hello kitty sauntered
(emanating pheromone heat
hand dill lee pronouncing feral passe faux foots),
dripping, seething with hormonal secretion
uttered via vow welled roots
gluten and monosodiumglutinate free pussy
hapt tabby on the prowl ready
for par laid view penile piqued Saint Peter
to enter heavenly labial shoots
rather than suffer frost bite
the above mew wing tigress attempted
to keep toasty warm
('thou minuscule tunnel
lacked add dick quit light)
prickly endowment fired
raging testosterone
with braggadocio, brio, bravura and might
owing pretentiously pusillanimous feline
fur reed black as night
hood hit attempt to cap cha moxie orgasmic
thus ensuing a mutually satisfactory plight
until a park ranger back his utility truck
than gregarious, felicitous, erogenous
then quick as greased lightening
horny creatures disappeared out ta sight.
Form:
*Image of Between Doors by Hope.
As Shadows Mend
A lingering bravura form ... dawn midst twilight's brilliance,
It sprung a length of an unscathed course -- accidentally,
The mute vim snugly stamped unfilled, credulous of malice,
Flightiness stemmed from this silhouette, soulless oddity,
Fractured sewn plots hint of ambrosia, ere glint of the sun,
Crept o'er beauts dead asleep flit promenade the *Champs Elysees,
This undertaker gleams green edges, tickling haunting fun,
Furtive's sourced the virgin-less dove, resting on eggs well pleased,
Furtherance strengthen cloaks, catnapped air revives to a squeeze,
Contingent hollow burdened by hyped growth and fancy streams,
Swarming hodgepodge, dynamism idled, abandoned, charms ease,
Consequential happenings, capricious woodland's sprite dreams,
Curiousness provoked benchmarks, advance said grey graveness,
Flummoxed o'er see-through luminance, that occult pseudonym,
The breathless saunters towards pronounced distant concaveness,
Prompts closeness of wormed anomaly, like some phantom limb,
Chanced, faced with faceless, instantaneously, sensed a warmth,
'Twas pacific this heightened soul tried to claim yond circumstance,
A cleansing consumed me whole, doleful went yielding a formed,
While Lunar's wanting depth, Sol's dawn, striking a winks askance.
The darkroom flights emptiness to illuminate alone,
Receptive rays liberates imprisoned eyes to wander,
Aims set, spirits exalted, aids cognizant chaperone,
Nippy night solicited valor, daydreams come yonder.
*Champs Elysees (SHOHNZ-eh-LEE-zeh): a major avenue in Paris famous for elegant shops and cafes
~~Happiest 2022 Dreamers, Aloha!~~
2021 December 28
If I had but one last sorrowful day of my life left,
there would be words I would say without delay.
Too long have I struggled, uncertain and bereft,
my tongue silent as though mired in a pit of clay.
Until now, I found myself sifting sand from my soul.
Now, willing to bare my heart's unavowed affection,
I must find the bravura to proclaim it and be bold,
and yet I find myself fearing your gentlest rejection.
Time warily squandered shall never be returned.
So, I'm seeking courage to reveal what I am feeling,
while hoping my sweet ardor shall not be spurned
nor the love for you that I have long been concealing.
Gleaming are stars hovering aloft in evening skies,
but if gathered together, never could they outshine
the luster I descry in the fulgent light in your eyes
when the beat of your heart and mine finally align.
When the pale moon rises to Heaven at zenith height,
its glorious beauty shall emerge from a lunar eclipse.
Not as seductively alluring to be with you on the night
when alas I shall feel a kiss from your sensuous lips.
Thereafter, sunlight shall yawn on the edge of dawn
but your love shall warm me more than his golden rays.
No greater fire is there to be compared with love born
by your searing touch that easily sets my heart ablaze.
If this is but a fantasy, I dare not lift tremulous eyes to see
the response to my avowal, if on your face it is defined.
I shall not bear the heartache if you turn away from me,
for then it would be a benediction, if my eyes were blind.
January 29, 2023
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 26 Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
Originally written in 2016
for a contest sponsored by John Hamilton
O medo como nosso aliado.
O medo como a energia do poder;
o poder de cada pessoa
AH! O medo amigo ou inimigo;
Combatente contra ou aliado.
O Medo doloroso
O medo que desafia,
O medo que energiza os sentidos,
O medo autoridade.
AH! O medo: afirmação dolorosa do ser humano.
Aprenda a não ter vergonha do medo,
Agarre p medo
Apenas pessoas mortas deixam de ter medo
A nossa bravura deixa de ser o enfrentamento dos medos!
Uma pessoa não pode ser corajosa sem medo!
O medo no coração confirma que corre a vida,
O medo nos obriga a afirmar e afirmar e experimentar
a coragem de fazer o argumento.
Saiba: Quando autorizamos internamente,
o argumento irrompe de nossos pulmões...
Nasce palavras do coração,
redescobrimos a nossa vontade de vencer.
AH! Apenas pessoas mortas deixam de ter medo
follow the poolside shadows
Venus of Delphi
daughter of bitter waves
peek through the peephole
of my glaucous thorax
open your byzantine eyes and
spurn your locomotor ataxia
one glance at our vitreous hands
– a sight for blind sore eyes
one brush of our riveted lips
– gone astray in malformations
one ponderous confession later
– immaterial as a shadow of the lash
let the weeping corpuscles lie
swarm and jostle in the grotto
rattle and blather away our days
I’ll wait for your recriminations
fall asunder under your touch
fastidious in my entomology
let the bouquet glide downstream
the scytheman is still in his kingdom
then we rejoice in endless daze
the lingering beaten with bravura
When will Baz..Ben & their men ken..learn
Despite or to spite the "has beens" concern
Trouble to rubble only listen to their bubble
That Bazball trite shi*e they're always right
Be true to thine self.. the cover drive shelf
Lack that knack & gift to swiftly shift back
On pacy racy turfs where the conker surfs
Play it late and don't hit it on the up mate
Wafts of wishing fishing on the 5th stump
Down in the dump chump will then flump
Snag trumped by the ball that did rag jump
Nicked to slip or off the glove it did thump
Rascals debacles and wickets castled slump
Head more pizzazz..razzmattazz did gazump
Smoother purer surer bravura groover jazz
Baz did kowtow to an Aussie..now take a bow
OZ's wizard of the wood blizzard was that good
Y'all we should clearly really call it "TRAV or is that CHAV BALL !
LANTERNE PHRASIS 5
Silhouetted,side by side,beauty
shines through the face of bravura
with a knowing look.Seen in a
pensive light,ectasy & doom
hazy &luminous shines int
the human heart & inner state
of mind.’Neath this stern façade,
a light thrown into life.Futility lies
dying in the dazzle transformed
by a gaze.A surreal & atmospheric
light where unconscious intuition
flows into view.Soft focus images
bleed down in jagged shapes,a
timeless memory,evanescent
where osmosis takes the longer view.
From my Lanterne poetry publication 2005
Listen to me recite this part phrasis on youtube under my pen name ichthys chiro