Long Defenseless Poems
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(This time I've quoted my own poem titles. Everything in quotes is a title.)
"Dear reader," again, this monolog persists.
We're no longer "sparring" with figurative fists.
"The blood of an Englishman" is my last token,
"cursive curtsies" for "love unspoken."
"The magic of your arms" is now "unattainable,"
"man glitter"'s sloughing unexplainable.
"Footprints in time" lead to your "home garden,"
now overgrown with common weeds to pardon.
"This is the place" where "pruning" is "timeless,"
and "ballroom backgrounds" are forever rhymeless.
Briars pull me close with roaming stickers.
"The stars in the sky" "wake me" with sharp "flickers."
Doves' worn "coos" sound more like "snoring."
"The shape of water" is a tsunami pouring.
"The balcony bows" like "uncommon courtesy,"
"bolstered" hardwood buckling to be free.
"A safe place to hide" is looking vastly glum.
I cling to the shadows like "coffee table gum."
"Winter contemplations" are an everyday thing,
like "blackout poetry---detached," a missing ring.
"Forsaken" "spiderwebs" hold your "signature scent,"
though they are as broken as bent.
"Winter twigs wither" like a limp "paper boat"
immersed in a "defenseless," old moat.
"All that remains" "for the headstrong and wrong"
is a broken cassette withholding our song.
"I will care for you" like a "scarecrow in still life."
"The widow's pew" has gained a haggard wife.
"Birds through obscurity" perceptively lag.
"Goodbye, love..." I impart to you "freedom's flag."
Don't "call back the curtain" to yesterday.
"Installments of lost time" are impossible to pay.
I'll be as strong and "brave" as the mighty ant.
Then came the "thought thief..." "Will I if I can't?"
"No proper goodbye" would satisfy my "appetite."
A morsel on the path to "winter's endless night."
"Maybe" the "earth meets firmament" on the brink.
A "snow globe refreshment" will be my last drink.
The "typewriter" points "westward," and there it shines,
"clinging to (these last) undulating lines."
9-25-2023
...He flipped through the paper he’d bee given,
And saw the name ‘Ms. Karen Mallory,’
his mind reeled again, incredulous,
that was the girl he had saved by the sea!
Soon enough he was dragged into a court
and Ms. Mallory did loudly attest
that without consent he had kissed her,
and pawed like a pervert at her breasts!
His lawyer counter,”Consent can’t be given
when a person is hurt and unconscious,”
that nothing he did be called sexual,
and that a good soul could do nothing less.
Mallory’s activist lawyer shot back,
“Maybe she would have preferred a death
to knowing that she was violated,
forced to breath in a molestor’s breath.”
She prattled about body sanctity,
how even frantic times did no excuse men
from shamelessly groping defenseless girls
who were not able to give their consent.
Dylan rolled his eyes so many times
that he though they’d fall out of his head,
he’d known Feminazis could be extreme
but this pair was functionally brain-dead!
He expected most folks would see the truth
and recognize that he’d done a good deed,
nut one day a friend sent him a link
and told Dylan it was something to read.
He gaped as he read a professor’s rant,
filled with reasoning utterly absurd,
claiming that death did not justify ‘groping,’
never had he seen such nonsense words.
Then the many ‘minds’ on the internet
all chimed in with their digital voice,
half said that he was a would-be rapist
that unconscious girls could not avoid!
Then the media latched onto it,
made it their outrage-scandal of the week,
with people declaring ‘unconscious consent’
as a dark too of ‘The Patriarchy.’
And of course his boss feared the attention
so Dylan was quickly drummed out of his job,
for trying to step up and do the right thing
of a living he’d wrongly been robbed.
Inside the court they pointed to wild nights
to try to smear him with misogyny
regardless of the fact that his night life
had nothing to do with events on the beach!
In the end, at least, the jury chose right
and saw his actions for just what they were,
still the media called it travesty,
an ‘act of oppression’ against her.
As he walked out a reporter pressed close,
said,”Can you tell me what you learned inside?”
“Yes, next time you see a feminazi drown,
you’d be better off just letting her die.”
How can a stranger standing at the corner,
leave me breathless, in a trance... I ask you?…
What are the chances, in such a moment,
one brief encounter could change a life?
You were the sunlight, after the rain fell
leaving me defenseless. Makes no sense at all. ..
So, how to explain it? A spell, that is nameless
Nothing will ever be the same
~
How can it be? Can this be really happening?
Or is it just a dream?……
A chance encounter, that fate designed for me?....
But now, I'm floating on a cloud
~
Unlikely strangers, after the thunder,
waiting for traffic, to let us move on
Then came the static, something like magic
flashed to light the afternoon
___
There was a rainbow, on the horizon
rising against the blue, a sign to tell me
Spellbound, I'm flying, ... I'm realizing
suddenly my world is something new!
I've found tomorrow, standing at the corner,
under a stoplight, and after rain fell
There at the crosswalk, lost in crossfire…
Dare I hope you felt it too?
~
Now everyday, we cross paths at the corner, and
I've seen you come, and go …….
I'm left to wonder, do you know?
And could you feel the same way that I do?
What are the chances, someday on that corner
you'll take my hand, and know that it's forever?
With recognition, divine intervention
We'll never walk alone again….... again…………again….
………………………………………………………………..
Lyrics for music written by Kevin Kern "Chance Encounter"
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Y1hDSBlvkU)
Inspired by the contest: "Fun With Lyrics"
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
2/5/18
We were driving along a backroad
It was 4 am on January 22, 2014
Where snow had been drifting down
Without any attempt at playing,
I felt my tires tease me with a challenge
A slide toward the right side of the road
That slide was the good slide that was mirrored by
The second slide toward the left side of the road
Where the car was defenseless against a cliff
Where we road over and over and over
Flipping again and again, Totaling every part of the Subaru so that
We would never ride in this particular car again.
And, yes, this was a near death experience and when
I got out of the car and stood on the trampled snow
I raised my head to the sky and said Thank You God
In His Mercy, we were provided safety and security
In His Mercy, we were blessed with another day
In His Mercy, We discovered even more blessings!!
Rummaging through my overfed desk
of retired rubble a powerless and
defenseless button bounced soundless
to the floor to tread on the brown
ocean of shag safely surrounding it.
It had no immediate individuality,
just rigid and round as if carved
from hard bone. Almost art-like, opaque,
in just the right light. Its size, less than a quarter,
but more than a dime, focused on me with
four unashamed eyes, like the hunter
targeting his prize. A button looks so naked
without its clothing.
I rushed to seek a needle and some thread.
The button both competent and able
for the working class.
But where are the jobs?
None of my shirts require your application.
My daughter’s ragdolls still retain all
their eyeballs. I even checked the
checker set, no pieces on strike,
no need for a scab.
I pinched you in my fingers and placed
you on the newspaper by my bed.
The front page read:
“CAN AMERICA CURE THE UNEMPLOYMENT RATE?”
If you can believe it,
it still hovers ‘round 9.8.
A defenseless seed planted in spring's tempestuous furrow
Nourished with fertile juices; warmed in caressing burrow
Escaping subterranean cavern into formative strand, roots still
shallow
Sprouting into a strappling seedling that doth hope, promise bellow
In sweltering, summer haze; tender stem bows and bends
Strong, directionless winds blow; the fragile stalk spins
Froward pests snip at the intestinal fiber, productive growth
ammends
Heavy torrents of doubt seep inward drowning the hidden tentacles
on which outward growth depends
After arduous spring travails end, summer's balmy season begins
Long, dry days with timid growth to begin
Steadying anchor balasts the green adolescent, promise to portend
Stronger constitution allows the fecund shoots against blight,
predators defend
Stiff resistance, ample growth produces fruitful dividend
Late summer, vibrant plant reaches it's zenith, ripening fruit
suspends
Toils of younger days along with the growing pain ends
Mellower-toned follicles displaying strong genetic traits from each
stem extends
Acclimated to unforgiving environment, with spare fuel, for its
place ardently fends
O Israel—
your hands
drip
with innocent blood
in Gaza.
You have butchered
women,
children,
and men.
You have destroyed
their homes—
and their hopes.
The Middle East,
once at peace,
now stands
as a bloodbath
since your arrival
in 1948.
O Israel—
you have taken
more innocent souls
than any nation
upon this earth.
In Lebanon,
your violence
has struck
the defenseless.
A land
once peaceful—
now turned
into hell.
In Syria,
your brutality
is known.
In Iraq,
your cruelty
is not forgotten.
In Iran,
one hundred and seventy-two
women and men—
lost
in the name
of greater Israel.
Because of your deeds—
a nation
once favored,
once loved
by the world—
now stands
among the most hated.
Saint Paul warns:
“Do not be deceived—
God cannot be mocked.
A man reaps
what he sows.”
O Israel—
your sins
are now
too heavy.
Every day she kept trying
To find someone to confide in
About her secrets so dark
Being kept away and locked
Deep inside so no one sees
How much she wants them to flee
And give her some peace for once
But there's not a single hunch
This will happen any time
Her life's been a shameful crime
Since that day when he walked in
Making her do a bad sin
That no little girl should know
Affecting her life as she grows
Into a woman who can't function
When it comes to a love junction
Because she is hurt and scarred
When her father went too far
Showing love that isn't right
Months and months into the night
He controlled her every action
For his selfish satisfaction
That could never seemed to end
Over and over again
She would lay there silently
As he raped her violently
This in not where she belonged
With a father who did wrong
To his little girl who cried
As she's being gagged and tied
Left defenseless and so weak
While he got to his hard peak
Exploding on his baby girl
Who should have been his whole world
It was hard for her to trust
Thinking back on all the lust
That made her scared to find love
So she would just push and shove
Every man who tried to give
Her a new reason to live
Until her wall was finally broken
By the sweet and kind words spoken
By someone who could just tell
There's a soul behind that shell
That's been crawled up in a ball
Love was at a halted stall
Till she was finally set free
From her darkened history
So new days can now begin
Never sliding back again
Flesh is a better word than bone
dried far better than fried
listless better than witless
Verklempt ever so superior to weeping
or am I wrong?
bone is white, lonely, brittle, bleached, stripped, broken?...beached, deserted
Flesh is rich, soft, mushy, tender, supple, pink, pale, peach-ed, and even fuzzed
fried is hot, hard, dissolved, drenched, fattening and frankly frightening
dried, is course, crisp, weathered, worn, reduced, reducted to its bitter sugar sweetness
witless...to be so forsaken and confused
listless, is a bowl of cold soup,a pillow, a couch,a silent room, a overstuffed chair, a rainy day,a clock ticking, a pencil in hand suspended above a white page....dormant with possibility...a chrysalis held captive in time, a photograph
weeping..falling drops of water melted from the snow of soul
Verklempt...honor in sadness, resolve against the high tide of painful truth, speechless, defenseless against the tsunami power of real pain or joy
I have learnt a very painful lesson:
those you love most will hurt you the most.
Your heart, laid bear, is defenseless
There is no alternative.
You must risk all for love,
or live as one dead.
It is better
to love than
not to
love.
Love
is life
I'd rather
live with your pain
than live without you.
I'll kiss inflicted wounds
I'll caress marks left by thorns.
I'll bear what excruciates me.
Loving you is the sweetest torment!
The lesson stands: love hurts, but you're worth it!
For Silent One's Contest
Lessons Learnt in Life
2: Its always those you love the most that will hurt you the most
October 4, 2015