Long Perspicuous Poems
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(“Pandora’s Box”, 2014, original pen and ink and oil)
Pandora’s Box
I don’t know who she was,
What she did or how she did it,
And maybe as the first it was sublime
Or maybe she was just another woman
With the kind of perfect snatch
To launch a thousand ships
On a sea of broken hearts,
But Pandora certainly left her mark, even today,
A stain across the whole of the Western world
The syphilization we’re all now born into and with
The miasm of her primordial STD
At our culture’s core.
And so it flows,
A not so mythic etheric ooze
Tainting hearts and minds
Of old and young alike,
Making the age of innocence
An ever more fleeting thing
Turning daydreams into nightmares
Corrupting youth upon their backs
In sagging decrepit elder’s sacks.
Ah, but there was a time
When the light shone bright and clear
And children laughed
Without a care
Before Father Time had his way
With Mother Earth
And the world turned
Into one long tawdry daytime soap,
With coked up stars
Too self-obsessed to even know or care
To what degree the schlock they sold
Was even worth the dime they’d all just shared.
Lost like this, removed from their roots
The players played
At the same old game
With the same old lines
Recalling Pandora only in their deepest dream
When from within the stench
The faint fresh breath of morning dew
Touched their petals fair
And in that moment glimpsed,
The soft perspicuous light
Before the dawn did shine
On Pandora at our core, demure and sweet,
Before her box
Was ever known
To any but her own.
And so it goes
In cycles great and small
The mind enthralled by all that can
And could ever be,
Returns unto the source
To sit and smile and rest awhile
With Pandora before she even knew the name
Let alone the power she possessed
And all it would unfold
Back before she was a she
When Pan was all we knew
Of love and life, in dance and play
Just simply being free.
(7/19/25)
How can I feel and almost touch something we never had?
A moment shared but not, lost somewhere a long way from where it started,
where it didn’t begin.
But I can paint a picture of it, transcribe it in my heart. Will it become tangible
just because I envision it that way?
I live in terrible nights spent dreaming sweet mirages, rapturous figments, only made worst by morning’s arrival.
I grit my teeth as I fall into the plunge. Imageries of what I’ve come to know isn’t true provide décor as I wait to be caught, as I hope to be.
Wouldn’t you know it, I'm endowed with full wings, yet the reasoning behind their lack of use doesn’t fly either.
My thoughts confound me; I’m troubled by the incapability in my faculty.
Who is there to pilot? My heart can’t be trusted; it’s been three sheets for a spell now.
I interrogate my expectations, wanting so badly to believe.
White hot lights guide my lines of violent inquiries; I cling to the tension, snarling to the breaking point.
Creating memories where reality concludes, drawing close to those recollections; glaring past their pseudo substance -deeming them rather perfect.
I stagger toward uncertainty with meaningful purpose, dazzling in the eyes I see as I lurch forward continually -short of a rudder.
Faint whispers can be heard as echoes throughout my heart, they tease as they haunt me, I wish their message was as perspicuous as their sound.
Time is closing near as I retreat into the refuge of my thoughts…I can feel it, almost touch it, was it ever there?
My portrait, my written text, I embraced these feelings as I saw them,
they were there.
I end, up ended in the hind parts of the day, now wanting so badly to revisit another terrible night…
Started 20 January 2014 at North KAIA -Kabul, Afghanistan (North Kabul International Airport)
I, who always used to gravitate toward health and fitness,
would flatter myself that I was too healthy to ever get a bad disease.
Then it happened! A lump - most inurbane -
had decided to invade one of my breasts.
There was nothing perspicuous about that tumor.
My first whole month consisted of going from one test to another
just to determine if it was malignant.
In my new surreal world, everything seemed to alienate me from normalcy.
Surely, I thought, my body is simply being capricious.
I kept believing that the crazy tumor would be ruled benign.
Surely my worries and my biggest looming fear soon would dissipate.
Then I got the verdict – second stage cancer.
Told it was a less invasive type, I felt a little reassured.
But after surgery, another test revealed I was high risk for it returning.
My condition is far from transitory.
If it lived inside me still, it would attack with vengeance were it to grow.
I did the radiation I was told to do
but turned down the chemotherapy.
The tumor, after all, had been removed.
Through prayer, I believe God guided me
to sources that informed me of other precautions
better for me than chemotherapy.
I can make bad genetics my scapegoat,
along with the weirdness of estrogen, which drove it to my breast.
My body betrayed me, but millions are victims of this disease each year.
For now, I am surviving and doing it wonderfully.
I search for more preventative solutions
through such things as exercise and healthy eating.
Perhaps I mainly get by with support from friends and family
and most certainly, from simply LOVING life
that by God’s grace,
victorious I may remain!
Revised for Julie Rodeheaver's "I'm a Survivor" Contest
Encumbered about with the many twists and turns of life.
Traveling down a long road, picking up every hitchhiker along the way.
Carrying each one alone; being conscientious to not drop one, not even the lowlife.
Contemplating each step, apprehensive of the outcome, will they go or will they stay?
Slowly sinking to the floor, the weight one can no longer bare alone,
Lamentably, there is no one who can to help; all the road signs were ignored.
Struggling with each step, knowing the perspicuous choice, the way has been shown.
Why carry this load that can walk on its own, the facts are there, this is untoward.
Unsure of the next step one by one they get set down disconcerted by this news,
Some begin to lie and claim they cannot walk, so they get picked up again out of pity.
Soon it becomes a revolving door, they begin to come and they go as they choose.
Weighed down again unable to breathe, there’s a need for a break through; a need to be free.
In one colossal move, arms stretched out like the horizon at sunset,
A spinning takes place, like the agitator of a washing machine.
All those hanging on are violently shaken off, thrown too far to pose a threat,
Running at full speed from the chaos of them all, creating all this space in between.
Unencumbered now, breathing never seems so pleasant, walking is now a run.
Flying isn’t far behind, as the relief and acceptance is now at hand.
Adding two letters to a word looks small on paper, like all that’s added is a un.
Per Contra in life it’s a freedom, it’s a matter of the soul, it’s a gesture of taking a stand.
C @ A.L.M. 2014
The following initially crafted approximately three and a half years ago and presently brought a much sought after surge of satisfaction while meandering along the information superhighway.
Panglossian Perspective
Pivoting Poze Pretentiously
Pacific, pacifist pampered papa
parading par excellent paragon
parent (parenthetically parochial
particularly partisan) parvenu
passive, passionately paternalistically patient,
paunchy, peaceably pepped, perfectionist,
perceptive, perennially perky, permissively
persevering, persistently personable,
perspicuous, pertinent, phenomenally philanthropic, philharmonic
picturesquely pious, pioneering, piquantly pithy,
playfully pleasant, pleasurably plucky, plummy,
poetically poignant, politely pontificating, popular,
positively potent, powerfully practiced pragmatist,
praiseworthy, prayerfully precious, precise
predominant, preeminently preferable, preparedly
preponderant, presently president, prestigiously
prevailing, priceless, princely, principally pristine,
privately privileged, prized,
proactively procreative,
prodigiously productive, proficiently profitable,
progressively prominent, promisingly prompt,
prophetically propitious, prospectively protective,
proudly proven provocative,
prudently psyched, puissant,
punctilious, punctually purposeful pygmy.
She has been a delight
since she first joined this website.
She performs an altruistic rite
both day and night,
sharing her insight.
Pious as an Israelite
ascending Mt. Sinai’s height.
She has ability to distinguish wrong from right.
Lactiferous with human kindness in a metaphorical light.
A moral beacon during a starless immoral night.
Always being polite.
An exemplary socialite.
Never requiring being contrite.
Displaying formidability despite
A genteel cortical initial sight.
Standing upright.
Possessing intrinsic might.
Speaking with eloquence forthright.
Containing innate perspicuous foresight.
She has a voracious appetite
for all knowledge in sight.
In addition, with encompassing insight,
she includes inscribed descriptive might
that can put up a fight
without any fright.
She may write
with words subtly lithe and light,
in quantitative measure appearing right.
About birds in flight,
soaring to great height.
Or sunshine exceedingly bright.
Sometimes a softly moonlit night.
Occasionally of gems of malachite
glowing like green moonlight.
Perhaps rubies luminescent with fiery light;
polished to a radiance shown in a volcanic eruption sight.
She is an experienced poet write;
a legitimate constituent outright
on this poetic workshop website.
She is not a literary neophyte.
Written: June 14, 2023
Pick-A-Title, Vol 37 - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
______________________________________________________________
Amidst the rolling hills and verdant green,
Lies a land of arcane, almost Xanadu if seen.
A place of ariose where dreams are born,
And the sun rises each day as an auric crown.
In this Elysian land, time seems to stand still.
Worries and troubles fade away, as if by will.
Here, one can find peace and tranquility.
The beauty of nature is its canorous serenity.
Glory in magenta and gold hues in the sky
The birds emit an opera of tunes as they fly.
The aroma of fresh flowers floods the air.
Trees soar high, their limbs rising in a blare.
Going upward, I have faith in my heart.
Through gloomy slopes and twisty parts.
The peaks are starting to come into sight.
Their tops were aurified with golden light.
I wander through this nebulous land of bliss.
And fathom a sensation of perspicuous peace.
I realize that I have embedded my idyllic place,
An oasis of diaphanous passion and grace.
Almost akin to Xanadu, an island of dreams.
It motivates me with whispered schemes.
The seal of the blessing of a utopian paradise
A realm where loveliness is eternal never dies.
“Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray.” Rumi
Life can be an incomplete glossary,
speech a haunting ghost,
in search of a perspicuous poem -
to express unspoken thoughts.
I remember when she said,
"Cue me poetry"
So, I became her perpetual poet,
engraving sweet soulful words
upon her bitter spiritless lips.
Fate had turned her into the Queen of Darkness,
but my heart glows in the dark.
Together we illuminated like a trillion twinkling stars,
outshining the enigmatic effervescent moon.
Her essence infused a refreshing presence,
like morning sunshine after a night of rain.
Slowly she became a pilgrim of my poetry,
and I, a sojourner lost within her soul.
As I wandered through her secret chapters,
my word weaving revealed her book of scars,
each drop of ink resembling her tepid tears.
Each vexatious verse purified through
a catalyst of catharsis, healed her wounds.
We are like quill and scribe,
vowels complimenting consonants,
completing an impeccable vocabulary -
without her there is no muse.
After blissful years together marital conflicts begun,
normal for any marriage but for our daughter no fun.
Our capricious decision, separation was the call,
to alienate my daughter from me, not the deal at all.
Why do you chastise me like a malignant growth,
your own minds inner conflict, you forget our oath.
Pretentious plans of caring for her, your scapegoat,
Your sad behavior and control, about this you gloat.
I will continue to dissipate all this in vain,
to gravitate away from this inflicted pain.
Do you realize how much damage?
you impose on our daughter with your rage.
She pretends not to acknowledge me, to flatter you,
your mothers past on you inflicted is the clue.
Your inurbane manner affects our daughter’s future state,
those many heart breaking days restricted by a physical gate.
Please read the many professionals perspicuous reports about our story,
She needs her daddy, although alienated this is all transitory………........
My daughter loves and needs me, and will get me, the END.
08/30/2016
Pacific, pacifist pampered papa
parading par excellent paragon
parent (parenthetically parochial
particularly partisan) parvenu
passive, passionately paternalistically patient,
paunchy, peaceably pepped, perfectionist,
perceptive, perennially perky, permissively
persevering, persistently personable, perspicuous,
pertinent, phenomenally philanthropic, philharmonic
picturesquely pious, pioneering, piquantly pithy,
playfully pleasant, pleasurably plucky, plummy,
poetically poignant, politely pontificating, popular,
positively potent, powerfully practiced pragmatist,
praiseworthy, prayerfully precious, precise
predominant, preeminently preferable, preparedly
preponderant, presently president, prestigiously
prevailing, priceless, princely, principally pristine,
privately privileged, prized, proactively procreative,
prodigiously productive, proficiently profitable,
progressively prominant, promisingly prompt,
prophetically propitious, prospectively protective,
proudly proven provocative, prudent psyched, puissant,
punctilious, punctually purposeful.