Long Matte Poems

1
Profound insight climbing the mountain
The higher you go the more beautiful view 
Opens up wide spread in front of you
You see the world under your feet
Overwhelmingly liberating experience 
Shocking overpowering, and scary
You play walking on...

Read More

I cannot die tonight
I dog-eared a book
Of pages I haven't perused
You know how long that took?
Scent of pages
Frayed and yellowed
Always get me
Calm and mellowed
The spine cracked and worn
Each page a promise, a tale untold
In the...

Read More

Fishing Boats On The Beach at Les Saintes - Marie’s-de-la-Mer

                  Vincent Van Gogh (1853 - 1888), Arles, June...

Read More

So many, maybe millions
No, billions. Trillions?
Of stars, a quiet, hot snowfall
of white stars; sandal season squall.
Each birch tree here outdoing 
January's record accumulation.

Weeks of hour after hour after hour
upon day upon day upon day of
birches'...

Read More

When the mirror of 
               life is a gossamer film,       
 veiling v i n...

Read More

Hmm...What Discursive Poetic Theme Shall I Write About...

Today (a rather brisk, chilly,
and otherwise sat
tiss factory twirly delightful
December 18th, 2018) matte
her of fact quite
refreshing noontime, while this fat

tend plot of Earthen surveyed terrain
situated over scat
herd modest...

Read More

Through the night's veil, in whispers, I moved my steps along,
Somewhere, a light within the darkness, sparked a straight and fiery throng,
The secret of time, always hidden beneath pointless reprimands,
A rebirth of hopes destroyed by...

Read More

Countless generations lapsed since height of Greco-Roman mythology conceived, birthed and populated vast canopy of sky and expanse of terrestrial firmament, whereat obeisant propinquity quintessentially remains stalwart this day and age as guise dolls dote...

Read More

I was walking the streets 
Of magnificent city with elegant
Skyscraper buildings and sidewalks 
Enveloped in the veil of colorful
Blooming summer flowers all over
I was window shopping for unusual
Pretty things that I couldn’t afford
And I saw...

Read More

I'm an ashen dove, 
fading in zephyr 
of wine valleys, 
saturating in fog 
upon enchanting hills, 
draped in 
grape-green silk, 
where fantasies of forest, 
sprout cynthia moon 
of a bygone 
medieval saga, 
amidst heavenly 
eventides,...

Read More

I am the screams from the wind that blows
In the oozing blood from veins of death
I am grief
I am the voice without a sound
Standing on a pedestal without legs
Talking to ghosts
I am loneliness
I am the...

Read More

No twilight concerto to sway     not yet
as  zigzag street lights pound upon
heavy fog  clutching iced flakes  on rooftops
like hushed matte from night's gale
pouring bitter ovules to a past...

Read More

I Do Not Know The Secret...,
Asper Art Of Writing Acclaimed Poem...

Not purposeful intent,
when tasking self (Das Scribe)
a nondescript member of
Homo sapiens village people tribe
metaphorical spear in hand ready

to unbridal strong arm as vibe
resoundingly resonates, sans
(crackles,...

Read More

Written: February 07, 2024
                 ___________________________________

It appears as if 
the world has been 
coated by a wave of 
deceitful dictums,
  where faked...

Read More

A Propitiation of Blue Tears

On this highway to where the skies bleed blue tears into vases; 
on ornate buttresses they sit and saturate us, 
they cry and douse us,
they contract, expand, release….up from the bowels,...

Read More

Pain in the ass devoid of dreck
inapropos poetic material what the heck
more unbearable than crick in neck
shiver me timbers, I feel like total wreck
the (see) Edmund Fitzgerald, si?.

Spasmodic cramping imposed
automatic rhyming abbreviation
comeuppance (analogous to daggers
stabbing...

Read More

"Before a leaf-bud has burst, its whole life acts; in the full-blown flower there is no more, in the leafless root there is no less" - Ralph Waldo Emerson


I'm a sunflower, 
dipped in honey of...

Read More

A Propitiation of Blue Tears

On this highway to where the skies bleed blue tears into vases; 
on ornate buttresses they sit and saturate us, 
they cry and douse us,
they contract, expand, release….up from the bowels,...

Read More

By the barrage of flies, bald John can tell how
Safe his meal is for feasting. The spotted
fawn yet battered breathes. 
Clean blood is poison, he knows,
So before he drinks, he waits for the devil
To pee...

Read More

He is a mind under a fist
Within a box inside a darkness;
He is a monolith upon an obolisk...
A mighty legend in his own mind - -
Owner of imaginary greatness.
He is a whisper of obsession
Holding tightly...

Read More

“Passionate Color” by Alex Lindsley
(Inspired by “Floral Masquerade” by Mikali Jones)
Their song.
Our song.
Them, marshmallow and fruity drinks, roaring wind.
Us, dust devils, whiskey, and mildew.
That, lime pie and honeycomb, a warm hand on a shoulder.
This, a...

Read More

A delusory pleasure bristled the solitary abator 
And the dusky night rides down the sky
An ethereal beauty demoed with her au naturel demeanor
The solitary abator bumps with illusions, thus far realisms high. 
 
Elated with...

Read More

Night is my time
When light dissipates
Into matte darkness 
Of endless dusk
My psyche awakens
And starts roaming 
Barren landscape of 
The dark side of the moon
Staring at the horizon of milky way
Spread over the sky
Searching for mysteries
That...

Read More

Written: February 13, 2023
           ____________________________________________

An anathema for,
pilose nettle burns,
an art form of unstable feathers,
tropes across the ivory cuticles.
Melted mascarpone in a figurine,
pearlescent obsidian,
hooping sapped spirit,
sight...

Read More

Is there anybody out there
 I can only see my face in the forefront preflection
 Of the passed, away on vacation until all comes cross
 Is she really on the page or on the screen...

Read More