Long Reemerge Poems
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After nearly a year
Hamas released four October 7th hostages.
Unfortunately, they're all deceased.
Tossed away, like ballast, from a sinking beast.
Will they be mentioned at the DNC?
Will they be remembered by anybody?
Does anyone still remember October 7th
September 11th
the ghettos of Warsaw
or the ovens of Hitler and Eichmann.
We have forgotten!
Trojan camels have entered through the globalist gate.
Purely in the name of a new world disorder of calamity.
The elitist ribbon and perfume it as tolerance and diversity.
{Diversity only works when hate is taken out of the equation.
Tolerance is feasible but only in the wake of a common vision.}
However, large numbers of participants are cross-eyed or blinded.
There is an unhealthy growing tolerance for terror.
Little empathy for the innocent and the common man.
The people have turned into sheep too frightened to speak.
Herded by their masters into endless shadows.
From which they'll not reemerge from their sleep.
We have forgotten, but we'll soon be reminded...
by a maelstrom of mayhem and violence.
out of mind out of sight.
it’s just my luck that’s tough luck.
Next thing you know Im down one.
Slow to erupt.
observing society fuss.
anxiety it’s all love it’s me it’s you equals us.
we all we need that’s enough.
told me to hush.
Sensitive to much.
it’s just my luck that’s tough luck.
absorbing everything like a sponge.
So we always in touch.
this that about such and such.
now it’s an impasse talk too much.
like attracts like,I am the company I keep.
still sleep. really. reemerge
show concern. how to discern.
value in disperse
I adjust debunk
it’s just my luck it’s tough luck.
Slaves to Perception….
Perception is influenced by probability judgments formed on the basis of earlier actions performed in similar situations
And I think I know
As much as I know of a triangle and breathed in the number three, all of this unto me all of this unto me.
If the premise was true the conclusion was true,
But how would I know the conclusive evidence: that product which is truth when the addends divulged were false, and the addends are always false as truths evolve and reemerge as new philosophies…
And Even as a poet I have learned from a defamed philologist that words get in the way…
The sum of it all is out there somewhere in the ether… floating aloft in a grey heather or the black vastness of space
Aloft a mist or rather it is a mystery
just
JUST clanking, ringing along in eternity with all those other eternal truths just beyond my knowing…
I derived a conclusion, intuited from a premise… like a hound to a fox…yet red herrings abound when you’re around… and I chase logical fallacies and grab kite’s strings…that pull me along with the rhythm the beat of your pulse,
If the woman is sick she will vomit,
If she vomited, she was poisoned.
In similar situations, the premises are all smoke and mirrors and the looking glass no clearer through the dregs of Domain Romanee Conti products…I saw your one eye peer at me…sizing me up outwitting me poking jest at love: that tomfoolery.
And simple biological permutations of something that renders itself as love is what you seek and what I know to be the opinion of each is different for all the same reality. If we assign meaning in our own minds to each act--an action of reality-- Why then would it matter to engage? To indulge and assign meaning and perception to anything? That simply enslaves us all.
when lightning struck all fuses melted in the fire
no more circuit breakers to interrupt the inevitable
stillness loneliness darkness and necessary change
reflections without light can be very illuminating
at first the images showed shattered past and emptiness
fear of whether a mosaic of joy could ever reemerge
doubts and resentments clouded sound judgement
while emotions played inner tunes of havoc and angst
and yet as introspection reached out to a future
tentative sounds of happiness crept in once again
only he himself would shed the load of the past
and loosen the weight in his body mind and spirit
Declared an outcast,
shunned by society -
but she's the same
as you and me,
but You can't see her pain
hidden behind her coy smile.
You can't wipe away those tears,
invisible to your shallow eyes.
In fear she stares at the pavement,
but she can see you stare.
She can hear your giggles.
She can feel your judgement.
Her crime?
Only that she is different.
Freak is not her name,
but you shout it, roaring like a lion.
To you she looks peculiar and
you wonder why she behaves strange.
Her monotone words are a result of your
ignorant mind that has lead to her
indulging in esoteric tendencies.
She may seem socially awkward,
but she means no harm.
She just wants to belong -
for one soul to understand.
There is no eye contact,
because living can hurt.
Misplaced in an oblivious world,
the skies may look bright to you and me,
but all she recognises is the darkness.
The soul is deep like an ocean,
but most only see the surface.
Only a few dare to venture to the bottom -
where most drown.
Only the strong reemerge.
The Silent One
Simple Musings
24 October 2017
Today I had a Covid test,
But first, to leave the house,
I had to sort through clothes to find
A normal shirt or blouse.
I ironed one and then I found
A pair of jean Capris,
For what I wear relaxed at home
Is stuff nobody sees.
I do go out to exercise
Each morning, close to dawn,
When clothing meant for working out
Is what I have thrown on.
Yet this would be my first foray
To walk each city street
A half-mile to the test site
From a 3 month long retreat.
Of course, nobody glanced my way
And with my hat and mask,
Anonymously I strode on
To undertake my task.
To be outdoors felt alien,
A bit of needed prep
For to reemerge and join the world
Requires baby steps.
Stay focused as an icon makes its surge
upon the stage as self-contained, assured.
I weigh it 'gainst a candle who's matured.
While tapers toil all night and scents converge,
the pooh-bah is about to reemerge.
The fragrance fine, but pooh-bahs can not rest
'cause candles never argue - who's the best?
True flames fulfill their course throughout a scourge
of dark and damp. No ploy have they to purge
a faint and feeble, fellow wick who wanes.
The grudging pooh-bahs' narcissistic brain
rebels at such an unpretentious urge.
The pooh-bah makes his plea, a drooling dirge -
"Me first," "Pick me," "No, I'm the one you want."
Note, candles speak with tongues quite nonchalant
and as they do their melting tapers merge.
Author's Notes:
The name of the haughty character Pooh-Bah in Gilbert and Sullivan's The Mikado (1885)