Long Coherently Poems
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It takes a leap in faith to view life differently.
Whatever is shown on a specific story screen.
Consider a chutzpah of a mad tantrum coherently.
Moving forth implies that I crave to be seen.
Whatever is shown on a specific story screen.
To scale the peak and survey the scene below.
Moving forth implies that I crave to be seen.
Utterly, to view more peace than hate grows.
To scale the peak and survey the scene below.
Kindness over wrath, brightness over darkness
Utterly, to view more peace than hate grows.
Fear falls the same as cosmic dust lit our sharpness.
Kindness over wrath, brightness over darkness
Your eyes are clear to show your heart and head.
Fear falls the same as cosmic dust lit our sharpness.
Your thoughts are intertwined with dread.
Your eyes are clear to show your heart and head.
Consider a chutzpah of a mad tantrum coherently.
Your thoughts are intertwined with dread.
It takes a leap in faith to view life differently.
Written: December 08, 2022
“You got the goldfish interview, as asked?”
“I did, sir, but he lacked the wherewithal
to answer me coherently, I fear.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? The fishing section
is looking pretty thin. You showed up masked?”
“Of course I did. That goldfish flu’s no joke.
He said he’s scared of casual infection.”
“Your killer question, then? Your master stroke?”
“What is the capital of Senegal?
My curver, that one: it’s my knuckle-ball.”
“You got a cogent answer?” “Nowhere near.
He knew, he said, but couldn’t now recall.”
“His love life? Did you ask?” “He yelled, objection!
He said, that’s why he hates newspaper folk.”
“But that’s the very thing with which you’re tasked –
to get the sexy stuff! You think he’s *****?”
“He said he’d tell me after taking coke.
It seemed to me a little circumspection
might do the trick.” “Unmitigated gall
is what I call it. What I want to hear
is, if he’s in that witness thing – protection.”
“I got the feeling he was trying to stall –
I probed him, but he had no recollection.”
This is me starting to write this poem.
I'll put down my thoughts, see where they roam.
Amid my past and future dreams.
We'll see if it's all that it seems.
Adrift along life's many pathways.
It's here and now that always stays.
What can be said for gaining knowledge?
The kind not taught in any college.
We're left to figure day by day.
And pray to God we find our way.
We drink our coffee, take a pill.
Wake and sleep and wonder still.
We watch our tv's grow each year.
Expanding joy and love and fear.
Reality's reality is getting tricky.
And only some can afford to be picky.
We get in gear and keep on moving.
As if a mystery we are proving.
It's not about solving the puzzle.
But rather, coherently rhyming with guzzle or muzzle. :)
Labels
Parents: He’s fine but just on the spectrum
Slightly dyslexic, number blind and
A tadge autistic and is allergic to
Snails, bees and litmus paper.
He needs a keyboard but can write
His handwriting is poor. We love
Him, but he doesn’t like fur or
Feathers over an inch long.
He loves rugby, but is forbidden
To tackle or touch the dirty ball
Confidentially, speaking in front
Of him, we’ve given up and so has
The school. He’s sweet but a lost
Cause. We’ve never listened to him.
Me: He’s normal. He can write and
Understands all I teach him and tell
Him. He answers coherently and has
Great ideas. He writes poetry and can
Articulate perfectly when analysing.
He is interesting. His parents, teachers
Have never praised him, because of a
Label they placed on him, in year 2
I praise him when he’s good, tell the truth
When he’s not. Simple.
I don’t believe in labels. I find out
For myself. I discover the child.
I show him what he’s worth.
I tell him he’s valuable. I tell him he can
Go places.
When I let the parents into the secret
He’s normal. They are shocked.
He passes his GCSE English grade 7.
And math's grade 6.
They knew he could do it and the school
Has another success on their hands.
David Cox 11/03/20
Eating your leafy words
Is wise,
Not absurd,
Not a vitamin guise.
Sweet logorrhea of crimson carrots
And great golden potatoes
With blueberry beauties
Nibbling newborn walnuts.
Sage sachets invoke lucid lentils lore,
Rosy resonance forevermore.
The tastiest side salad awaits
With vanilla visions for all my mates.
I'm coherently linking leafy greens,
A poet's realm of vegetable things.
Linking lavender to raspberry resonance,
Merry mustard seeds, and petite pumpkins.
Starlit sunflower seeds are swirling
While the ivory cauliflower is boiling,
And raspberries on broomsticks baffle
The mischievous umber mushrooms.
Those who eat dinner with me
Will digest split pea poetry,
A discerning dinner with glee,
Filling our carefree cups with timeless tea.
We all have are own individual struggles in life
& we fall in love multiple times
Our hearts get broken
& life puts us through some emotional changes
Some pain is harder than most to forget
Drama played out scenario's
not paying attention to how life unfolds
right before it explodes
stepping on concrete barefoot bleeding on the inside
can't express the feelings bottled up inside
raging out at the world from which some can't hide
lost in all the chaotic silence with loud whispers
like a promise that's formed from so many lies
and many hateful goodbyes
bound by echos that cry sounds of life's only promise that we will all die
putting caution signs up in the air slipping in life's many I don't cares
washing our hands just ain't enough
coherently living with misconstrued trust
all it was, was a sinners lust.
We’re back in Paris because school starts in a few weeks.
I’m told the combination of air quality and heat are similar
to being in a sauna where everyone’s smoking cigarettes,
or barbecuing where you’re the meat on the skewer.
The song ‘Pink Pony Club’ has been stuck, echoing in my empty head,
all morning and this isn’t a complaint.
I love this time of year. Fall is coming, you can feel it,
it’s almost college time and I’m excited to be heading back to class.
And I’m pleased to read that Helicopter parents still co-pilot
their college-age kids and that collage-core students still
aspire to the top schools.
This is a shut-out to impressive students everywhere.
Foot traffic, in Champ de Mars park (our backyard) appears to be down,
perhaps because the sculpted trees in the commons offer little shade -
and they’ve closed the Eiffel Tower top to tourists.
Thank God it’s not global warming - there’s clearly no such thing.
Troubled mortals watch the prophetic heavens
for our days are bruited with hostile heat and
our tributaries drying up with violent speed.
Can nature’s woes be coherently counted?
.
.
Songs for this:
Sing Big by Tessa Violet
Doom Mood by Pearl & The Oysters
Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan
Somber red apple branches
sagging down into green orchard grass
lumpy loaded with solid ripe ready fruit
Watching pale yellow butterflies huddle down
then spray up and out a geyser of light vibrant flight
scattering and skipping above their sun-drenched forest
A green sea of windy winding rivers
shadowed by red mounted trees of deep-rooted life,
making sweet love with flighty buttered wings
sweeping and beating co-gravitating gratitude.
Red Team too old and wizened
to count their darkening days as numbered.
Yellow Team too light and funny flight
to bother commodifying frenzied beating wings of day.
Separate huddles,
yet a coherently co-arising Team
of Earth's diverse space tracing times
Our time has come
to turn from dance
with Owl's night-wise Medicine
Deep sultry listening
for wide empathic languages
whispering iconic myths
of syntax flowing paradigms
Reaching across Full Moon shadow
to inside passion die for outside pleasure
in contented ego/eco-flying Presence
within soaring without
Free of struggling
with letting go of anger
for AnthroCapitalized ignorance.
Frustration with our own slow to learn sense
that our best colonizing years are behind us,
if only because we prefer
to die in wealth of Full Moon's bodhisattva rebirth.
To struggle through this narrow breach
of polypathic pilgrimage
this dark MidWay Eve,
to relinquish all fear of fear
of folding
and refolding Earth's timeless synergy,
eternally felt Being Present
reconnecting regenerative tisssue
of progenitor's FullMoon Medicine issues
HumaneSelf reconceiving DivineOther
co-empathic eve of solsticing
wise dicing esteem,
Prime Ego/Eco-Elational CoIdentity.
Silent nights of peacefully resonant laughter
are not most Holy Nights,
purgation's Advent darkly waiting
opens sublime ego/eco- bipartisan therapy
of Earth Rights and Wrongs
are also Me,
WE Wide Web of Earth Tribes,
emerging from FullMoon wondrous Heaven
and NewMoon Earth
awesomely co-present
AnthroHours
and co-enlightening days
and EarthAnimated seasons
regenerating bicameral laughter
with deep co-respect
and widely Peaking Presence
Silent smiling
coherently inclusive rememory
of warm waving
co-gravitating humor
in love as life
spreading wild as moonlight
on this wise CoElational Eve.
We know that life is a journey.
And Death is also a continuation of the journey.
As it marks the end of the body's journey.
And the new beginning of the souls journey
A branch has fallen from the tree
But he only drifted to become free
In a manner coherently sloppy like a scree
To obtain divine authority like a decree
Perhaps his time seemed too brief
But let's not lengthen it with deep grief
True it came unannounced like a thief
But his memory should be decorated like a chief.
It's not how long a man lived
But how impactful was the life lived
Although it's expected of us to be grieved
But it's actually time to get his memory archived.
It's true his parting left a void
Because of an incident we couldn't avoid.
But he is not trapped in a void
Rather he is moved on like a car that has been refuelled.
#PoeticLord#
(c) June 2019