Long Concocted Poems
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The people surrounding me keep asking “why are you going back and forth uneasily on the empty stage shedding crocodile tears, and telling the stories of negative effects on others, though you are not of a man of faculty who is even able to produce a theory comparable to 'Blind Will of Universe', one of worst hypothesizes a man can think of.
It’s because though,
when a worldly-minded snob shouts from a podium
“you should have a positive attitude,” while displaying
his resume proudly with the title that is little-to-do with his personality,
his limited academic background that barely conceals the lack of intelligence, and insignificant accomplishment with somewhat concocted experience hiding his real being and thought, he receives respect from the audience who fascinated by every movement the snob makes in the form of applaud with standing ovation, I was always treated badly from audience, fed only by unwelcome astringent fruits of rejection and drink bitter tasting water sprang from unwanted rotten roots to quench my desire…
And that’s why the course of my reasoning became negative,
and, as a natural consequence, no matter how often you may say
to the audience “you ought to be a person of positive attitude,”
since there are more negative aspects surrounding us than
the positive elements, and that’s why I was accepted by
others negatively. More importantly, I was treated negatively
from others simply because reality goes before me.
Although positive thinkers boast themselves as if their thoughts are
sound and healthy, by saying that the water in a cup is half full;
negative thinkers sigh with a defected air and say that a cup is
half empty. However, it doesn’t make any difference how you think,
men’s thoughts cannot surpass the physical phenomena
and, therefore, a half is a half, no more nor less than a half.
In the boundary and limit is as such, whether you like it or not,
men have to go on the path of their own destiny.
Then, why does everyone has to have a positive attitude? I suppose,
that is, not more than a writhe of the men who won’t admit reality
in desperate agony. That’s the self-gratification of men
who are not able to face the facts as they are.
[The irony is, nonetheless, man is able to bear and raise a baby
by an act of self-gratification. It’s amazing, the world is a place
full of wonders.]
when on a lark, this primate shut his eyes
until sight formed slits doubling up as a wink
this earthling stared hard and scrunched brow
unintentionally mimicking,
the familiar Auguste Rodin statue
likened to a pose when one doth think
perhaps said captive pose pondering
(similar to me) about life on other planets
while I stared at lunar surface
akin to a disc or dime sized skating rink
awash with luminescence
and imaging himself whisked away
by an alien, synonymous
to the peculiar millions miles distant pastische
manifested entity than didst slink
a non hue man feline looking cat in the hat
comical creatures decked out entirely in pink
soft halos conjured up saintly mink
or...a far fetched thought suddenly
came to form in my mind,
that this har creature a found missing link
whose nocturnal glowing facade exploding charade
possibly a message
or motion nothing more
than routine smoothing out an anatomical kink
on front and back oh head resembling
a Doctor Zeus characterization,
viz a harmless rat fink
hm...maybe a vestigial progenitor
of former birth by Gaia now extinct
though from afar, the b52 shaped being
aye espied as fur ball affixed
with a long elephant like snout to drink
and appeared to lack occipital orbs,
yet evinced possible mode to see via a chink
impossible to restrain me noggin
appearing to nod and blink,
--------------------------------
hence entranced my attention fixed
from faint (perhaps a feint)
flickr ring meant as playful faux
role playing lunatic humorous acting wry
impossible to decode explicit antics
(of spacial cosmic guest),
no matter eyes nearly shut tight visual
wondering if non verbal communication
of mine correctly interpreted
meant to kibitz and vie
despite impossibility to validate,
a continuous effort yours truly did try
fixing thy gaze, nee straining
with alm aye might to esse spy
if cheap trick concocted entire visage,
which might not constitute life form
(admitting this chap to prevaricate,
and be full of baloney),
himself prone to confabulate
(dropped one to many times on the head)
when this rocky lunar image,
a moon scape comprising nothing
boot ham and cheese on rye.
“I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” (Spoken by Jesus) -John 8.12, NIV
**************************************************************
Igniting Divine Light
when the grim darkness of night
shrouds our life
and we know not
which path to tread
to reach our goal
when the mind is veiled with clouds
woven inside a spider`s web
and we know not
where lies our goal
when the spirit is at a low tide
driven by the pull of the moon
and we know not
which way to swim
when the soul is soiled
with dust from the filthy pathway
that everybody tramples on
and we know not
how to come out of the fix
When our life is in a horrible mess
concocted by a swirl of fateful events
and we know not
how to to make it turn around
It Is time to ignite
the light of faith in the divine
light of His love and mercy
through sacrifice of His Only Son
crucified for false heresy
flogged and buried in a dark tomb
by some vile men of lore
light glowing from Christ
risen from the tomb of darkness
to illuminate the path of His shepherds
and guide them to reams of brightness
light that dispels
the dullness of dark despair
to infuse trust and aspirations
inspire confidence
illuminate our path
our journey in life
light that cleanses the human heart
from the filth of sour hate and pride
ushers in joy to one and all
and disperses darkish clouds away
light of the hope of redemption
of man from evils and his sin
to the end goal of salvation
trough renewal of human soul
light of a distant dream
of peace and unity
of justice and liberty
of inclusion and fraternity
until eternity.
That dormant feeling of insecurity arose,
when travel journal got thrust adjacent
to my tattered (holey tattooed) clothes
while I knew with crossed eyes
aroused anger from peaceful doze
my younger sister felt about her
globe trotting exploits, an over expose
jour ever since voyaging out on her own
after graduating top of her class
where mine hatred glows
indirectly snidely sneering
at ma dough less brother hoboes
(a 1979 Methacton High School alumni),
unanimously chosen valedictorian
dressed in Calvin Klein
Harris tweed, couture
and silk panty hose
like me prolonging, promoting
on par with quasi staff sergeant, who knows
artful disciplinarian gingerly launching rules,
asper formerly commanding G.I. Joes
and pronouncing, predilection
exhaling natural highs no lows
traveling solo, with surviving Wilburys,
or just mows
zing nonchalantly
(though a foreigner) with swarthy skin color
easily camouflaging as civilian
all points on the compass,
where minute needle doth nose
upon returning home (being honorably feted
at once glorious estate of Glen Elm,
where she did propose
to the Lord Taylor (swiftly), which location
situated at 324 Level Road, Collegeville,
Pennsylvania 19426),
thence a great huzzah a rose
an immediate nauseousness welled
within from me head tummy smelly toes
I did not want to here, or see any details,
which would accentuate personal woes
popping, snapping, and smarting,
and slapping skin raw tib bits,
ache'n to yanked strings
of mama's heirloom yo-yos!
Poet Script:
trials and tribulations,
visited upon head of young
concocted ("FAKE") gusty and gutsy
kid sister enterprising ingenue,
christened easy on the tongue
Sharodd (not her real name),
to top off talents sung
like a professional opera singer, which rung
a shiver along small hairs of spine did tingle
heard all the way to Lake Woebegone
where bachelor farmers did mingle
every Christmas, a decreasing
number donned Kris Kringle
hit with blitzkrieg of yawping brats
hoof pranced to bell weather jingle!
In a world bejeweled
with tainted trinkets,
and feigned flowers,
we follow the
wailing waves below
whirling wind,
like secluded silhouettes,
stranded on the
cusp of chaos,
unable to find the sparkling
streak of hyacinth hope-
between dusk and dawn.
Perhaps there is a
reason why I stopped
rewriting runes with
cashmere conclusions,
as I’ve long been
dreaming of dahlias,
on weathered willows,
oblivious to the
dancing rays
of rising sun swiftly
cascading like
caramel confetti.
I am like the
sleepless ocean,
letting the
fleeting phases
of bewitching moon
lure floating sapphires;
pushing and pulling
my insomniac tides
with turquoise triggers,
as the inner-child
continues to sail
through tumultuous seas,
healing from
the trauma I’ve been fed,
concocted with
raspberry ruins,
from silver spoons,
on dulcet trays.
I’ve tasted poison
in the fruitiest of cocktails,
although the flavors
of life remain
a mystery within a fickle
game of chess,
incomplete
and unattainable.
I search for a sanctuary
where peace lilies sprout,
beneath the eclipsed horizon,
blindfolding my third eye,
as I waltz through astral
spheres to reach
an elysian dimension.
Amidst unanswered questions
hanging like
unsolvable equations,
for all that I’ve believed
was but a myth concealed
in illusory amulets,
bruising my inner psyche,
preventing me
from seeing beyond.
Yet the morning sky
convinces me to
reconsider and realign,
as the whimsical breeze
whispers in a soft cadence:
the Universe is infinite,
so am I.
This pink granite
heart is as vast as
the spring-hills with
deepest of falls,
prevailing traces of
my silenced voice.
And when mauve clouds
kissed my frail fingers,
I remembered how stars
do not need our touch,
to unravel fate laced in
citrine dust,
Like how I breathe-
lavender love,
within me,
leaving no blood
in my veins but poetry-
flowing as the poem
of pearlescent tomorrows,
through thin
sangria streams,
in daisy dialects.
So who am I~
but a mere dot on a
faceless canvas,
an echo of your rosy rhymes,
an incomplete verse with
complex metaphors,
weaving woes in
sunflower silence..
As the sky weeps
in periwinkle petals of
multicolored roses,
rinsed in lemons, and lavender,
the poet within me
releases a bougainvillea
bouquet of unfiltered gratitude,
swaying to the celestial duet
orchestrated by
the angel of raindrops,
adorned in braided
wildflower crowns and
windswept wishes,
echoing dulcet melodies
rendered in whimsical accents.
I ponder, if tears had a tune,
would it be the
sound of drizzling dewdrops?
Would you then feel
the pain I carry,
veiled in smoky silence?
Or would I forever be
the silhouette cloaked
in fogs of charcoal confusion,
too dark to be deciphered
by the fragmented eyes
that eulogize
all that sparkles and glows?
But when stained sunflowers
swirl beneath starless spheres,
scattering seeds of sorrow
to cultivate a garland of grief,
puddled with poignant poems,
I remain throned,
as the goddess of black rain,
riddled with cosmic rituals,
sprinkling kaleidoscopic dust
upon forsaken fields,
while listening to the
drifting leaflets in crisp air,
pleading for the demise
of my unfaltering faith,
oblivious to the truth
that I fear not
mists of melancholy.
I surf through surging seas,
unafraid of twirling torrents
and blazing tides,
piercingly striking
shimmering sapphires
floating in deafening despair.
There in the abyss of obscurities,
I’m nestled within restlessness,
in rooted resilience,
like a perplexed paradox
weaving crippled odes to
the sun that longs to rise and sail,
splashing hues of cinnamon clemency.
Tonight, I’m counting crooning comets,
amidst quivering hailstones,
dancing in cataclysmic rhythm above,
to find my home within
an island of daphne dreams
and singing seashells.
For I hear the flaming flowers
in their solitary stillness
serenade rain rhapsodies,
to awaken the petrichor
soul of heavy horizons,
wrapped in stringed
milky-quartz beads,
bursting forth blooming tomorrows,
illuminated by chamomile water,
concocted from charismatic spring falls…
Yet I think of us, engrossed
in umbrella moments,
Cupid too envied this
symphony of romance
where love conquered all,
and grief but a blurred memory,
in sunlit souvenirs of yesterday.
Paradise visage and eyes a bulge with dollar signs
whets imagination with PowerBall ticket bought
expect the usual outcome after next drawing to yield monetary naught
temptation for instant millions
human foible to reach for elusive pot of gold
streak of universal desire for potential wealth overtakes rational self
with delusions of grandeur caught
allow, enable and provide flirtation with fate to experience rich draught
envision emancipation from penury a distant battle fought
and tacked hard scrapple existence wrought.
at the core
legal tender in such precious chronically in short supply
within this family of four
though times eye desire at least another son or daughter more
at such urge (long silenced of this ram beau by ewe
too who) did vehemently roar
boot budding young girls I whole-heartedly love and adore
who rush into my arms whenever back from trivial pursuits
nearly squeezing out digested gore
when casually and nonchalantly turn the key to open the front door
akin to the finest crafted clock work to sound the time of day
they still dance and frolic like kittens or puppies
bring newspaper and slippers sharing silly concocted faux pa lore
inviting me to play make believe games on the floor
enjoying revelry without keeping score
yet…creating memories I will forever store.
Financial straits make our existence hand to mouth
all grandiose aspirations to succeed in life frequently head south.
Creative endeavors find excitement and linguistic pleasure
thru the attempt to pry poem or prose from mind
deliberate semblance to communicate and extract idea from cranial rind
words that synchronize suitably in poetic third eye bind
readers may espy hidden puns within this rhyme lined
with challenges or commiserate and complement via words of positive kind
although large sum of money would be a dog send
delivered by one blessed angel in disguise
redemption and salvation considered thankful find.
Much rather be cursed with excess wealth
Deliverance to life, liberty and mental health
Depravity foreign concept never to rue by stealth
bomber - to obliterate penury via greenback legal tendered war.
And the thunders thundered and the rains rained,
the waves crashed upon the shores,
and the winds could not blow the Dragon to the heavens,
and the seasons marched on.
And the people became afraid to enjoy the warmth of the sun and seek romance under the moon,
and the people asked, why has the Head of Days become so dark,
and the people asked, why does the Lord of Night who walks among us shine so brightly.
And those with ears took their guidance from Hermes,
and the vexed demanded sovereignty of themselves,
and rulers in the West had two faces for all to see,
for it was a time of self righteousness,
for many showed their cleanliness,
and made public their virtue.
The cautious hid behind veils,
and judgement's were cast in the market places,
and brothers became strangers to their sisters,
and mothers and fathers heeded not each others council.
Babylon had risen again and confused the peoples again,
and it came to pass that laws were spoken into power,
and the deaf and blind multiplied thereof,
and the Dragon exhaled a much more fiercer breath.
While the humble serfs made daily bread for all to eat,
and those with wagons continued their journeys,
and the merchants found new ways to collect gold,
and the town criers spoke learned truths to their followers,
and heard as lies from others,
and many truths and lies were spoken and heard,
and sanity and insanity whirled like a dervish.
And the houses of Babylon crumbled with bedlam,
and the prophets in the town squares cried Apocalypto and caused those with cautious ears to shepherd their children,
the belly of the Dragon knew not satiety, for its hunger was never satisfied,
nor was its thirst fully quenched.
And the potion makers sought the wisest alchemists,
and the potion makers concocted elixirs,
while those with closed eyes ran like blind sheep into crevices and over mighty cliffs,
and for those with open ears, they listened to the wisdom of the sages,
and the Man in Rome could not seek clemency from his Master,
for it was felt by many that the Lord of Spirits was powerless against the Dragon,
and some said he was the terrible breath of the dreadful Dragon.
A Concealed exercise concocted,
Wuhan Lab the playground,
secretive China obliges,
Western media consenting,
Medical experts silenced.
the age of censorship,
Dictators feigning incognito,
The diurnal and nocturnal schemes of top players,
A script before the scourge,
The drama of emergencies
A death unwarranted
alternative cure submerged,
Pharmacopia playing god,
opinions censored,
Freedom becomes a crime
Men afraid to die,
adorned in masks as domesticated vermin,
Socialist alarmed at Cowards
As dictatorship ascending in western democracy,
Ignorance elevated as advocate for CDC
Unending Speculation by tyranny
The weekly changing rules.
Connivers employing Fear,
Orchestrations and the Mournful diddy
Alpha
Beta,
Gamma
Delta,
and Omicron the game changer.
Controlling the world by unproven conjectures
First it was the Mask,
Then social distancing,
Sanitize, Isolation without empathy,
The numbers defiant,
The People's servants globally consenting to experiment
with the speed of a wing
The Lab Lords proposed a cure,
Greed conspired , the masses the guinea pigs,
Unverified Vaccine,
defrauding all of the liberty of Choice,
unprofessional medical rape,
breaking the Laws to invoke their Laws,
Rulers Turned scientists
Dictator found their Voices
compelling all to dine in an experiment
“safe and effective” the chorus of bias profiteers
Society divided.
“Vaxxed” VS “unvaxxed”
All Watching TV to form opinion.
Australia copies UK,
subjecting citizens to barbarism
America copies Australia,
senseless cohesion in place of Freedom,
France copying America,
Ignorant Cops abusive,
opposing sensible resistance,
The Truckers made a mark
though clamped down by tyrannical “emergencies”
The unending Jabs,
four times in Israel curing nothing,
A false sense of security,
The demand sales pitched
Experiment over, The Data concealed
To protect a Lie,
A massive Fraud,
The UK law breaker suspends mandates,
avoiding the sword of Damocles
And they all one by one taking turns
accepting failures while others in denial
ignoring the damage of trial
When Love And Dark Unite, A Shiny Tangled Web Catches Prey
There were hidden tentacles of hate in her heart
That her coils had not consumed me, I gave thanks
My soul nearly erupted, my mind suddenly went blank
Her touch was exciting, but frightening from the start.
She would serve me a great gulp of her poisonous brew
My hunger and thirst exploded, but I begged for more
There, in dark tides, my limp body washed ashore,
I was another roasted carcass for her blackened stew.
Waves washed beads of sand over me, around and about
I woke to see a smiling sky, laughing at my sad demise
I was but a damn fool, allowing her to have me as her prize
She kissed with thorny lips, smelled me with a bearded snout.
I lay waiting for dawn to tell me it was but a bad dream
Its gleaming rays would invade my brain and make it clear
My heart and soul were enslaved. I wallowed in woeful fear
She always dragged me in, convincing me we were a team.
I sensed night coming forth and dreaded the moon beams
This time her thorns pierced my lips, blinding me with lust
The temptation was too riveting. My body she had trussed
Her fingers soothed then strangled 'til I heard my own screams
Another bitter potion she'd concocted and lured me to drink
My breath came in short gasps as she searched my glazed eyes
Night hawks called, so I thought, but the trills were my own cries
I prayed to wake, but I swam in her dark waters, blacker than ink
Disgusted with my weakness. What kind of man had I become?
Tortured for want of the one who held hate within her heart
These thoughts meandered through my mind, tearing me apart
I must be strong to turn away and never more to her succumb
Another sunrise found me, my back flayed upon the beach
Rays of dawn warmed me before a salty wave slapped my face
I could not move, or would not move. In shame I was a disgrace
I walked into the ocean. In death I'd be out of her tentacled reach.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Robert,
thank you for asking me to reach into the dark a bit for this one.
I'm always honored to mingle my words with yours.