Long Undeniable Poems
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Election 2021
Sometimes I wonder and try to make sense of it all
Why do the corrupt get to stand and not fall?
Why does arrogance and pride continue
as the humble are stepped upon and trampled
like the dust under their pompous feet?
Wealth is squandered on meaningless things
while the hungry beg for some of their crumbs
Powers that rise remain to see another year.
Institutions meant to protect
become the very things
that destroy the innocent.
Wisdom comes with age and experience
The past sneaks in like a crack in the cement
It gets bigger and more pronounced as time goes on
Until the cavern is undeniable
You can no longer sweep dirt over it and hide it
Will justice prevail?
Will children’s lives matter?
Will the lives of those lost in an epidemic of addiction
ever be important?
Those that are poor in spirit…
Poverty of spirit is ravaged by greedy wolves
Those that can look the other way
They let the corruption caress their ears
They pretend not to hear
The cries in the streets
The cries in their newly opened graves
Yet another election and millions wasted
It will look good on paper
More wasted time… while the silver spoon
Gets passed around
The gauntlet of plenty is shared among the few
Will justice prevail?
The people have spoken once again
Will they ever really hear?
Written after the Canadian federal election in September 2021
Grace Daub September 22,2021
Some parts of life are permanent,
alas, some aspects not:
The morning temperature feels chill;
by midday it grows hot.
The money spent on cell phones'
long-term value which I sought,
Too soon is gone, as more is spent
on upgrades I've since bought.
The sun in its celestial course
yields light, black night, or shade.
Old years tossed out with calendars
as fire's embers fade.
Some friendships evanesce,
forgetting promises we'd made
Our children grow and move away,
as hair grows thinned and greyed.
Staunch boughs of trees are shaken by
harsh winds, enduring long.
'That time of year thou mayest in me
behold'; thy love's more strong.
You've been my life's sweet constant
as we harmonize our song -
One truth is undeniable:
in your arms I belong.
// Dedicated to Janet, my loving bride of 35 years //
The runway runs into her trained eyes
like a roadway that rushes red
into the dreams of her electrified soul,
she's so pretty in her disciplined perfection
a young body that knows years of rigor and ritual
with a mind measured for acrobatic ambition,
she's run this gauntlet so many times before
but the danger and thrill is somehow new,
her hands and feet are stained with bone chalk
memories of fingers, toes, ankles and wrists
twisted, torn and bent in pursuit of excellence,
her ears close to the crowd
she is in her own arena at this moment
no judges, no spectators, no competitors
just the trail to olympic truth
and that ancient apparatus, the vault,
the one she loves and fears,
vulnerable in her scarlet athletic elegance
Team, God and Country
are the drumbeats of her heart right now,
nerves of gold and breaths of bravery
fuel her focused desire to be the very best,
she draws a line on the mat with her foot
everyone knows the score
and everyone knows what the dare is,
the sprint begins with a wildcat spirit
total commitment, no blinks, no doubts,
no stopping this star girl
impeccable thrust to the floor
backflip to the vault for a stellar catapult
hands on the block in harmony
producing a body torque of tight spring propulsion
and she's up like an arrow to the lights
arms X'd over her breast
head high to the heavens
spinning upside down with sweet finesse
an audience in awe of her abeyance,
she lands like a landmark lovely and undeniable in grace
no stumble, no stutter, only stupendous balance
feet firm, legs straight and back curved with class,
she throws her arms back as an angel appeased in glory -
J.A.B.
In the 2012 Olympic Games in London
McKayla Maroney executed the most beautiful and perfect
vault jump in the history of gymnastics,
guaranteeing the U.S. women a gold medal victory.
This poem is dedicated to her immaculate beauty...Justin A. Bordner
Meddlesome acknowledgement was my gift to many
I wondered where the nutrients were coming from
I was absorbing your words, parched by my own dimming light-years
There I was stunned by the legion of black-faced martyrs
Exasperation of the undeniable misunderstanding of every conceivable word
Left me with another path onto death
And not nearly dying, but regenerating in technological, factorial woe
Demon thoughts squeezed bile from the brim of subconscious drivel
Accelerating the ghouls from the gull of my esophagus
I was held down from the dreams of the fortnight
From words of architecture ascending from the brims of the archangels
Eyes remained closed
And I felt the actual descent of my downfall
I did not open my eyes at all
I did not mean to pry into your life, oh beautiful soul
Please accept my gift today
My fierce gaze into your lavishing grail
Led me to accept and love where I often fail
I am no longer smothered in your intricate designs
Though I am surely small to you
Though I feel only a fraction of a fool
I am the hidden spark under the timbers of lies
I am the hidden spark under the timbers of lies
~ EvIL BlossomS ~
I be a garden nymph of bane
My sole purpose, to cause you pain
Toil you must within a garden so bright
I wreak havoc with delight
Something menacing, wicked did I
Just in spite to see you cry
While you slept I dug a hole
I ate the roots in your garden bowl
I giggled while I did the deed
Knowing how I made you bleed
I feed on souls, that is what I take
Pleasure is mine while you quake
All is lost when I appear
All that is left, undeniable fear
(evil laugh)
Copyright 2014
--------------------------------------
bane : in the archaic meaning of > something, typically poison, that causes death.
Narrow streets overlooked by red-tiled roofs,
lie brightly in the April sun while small robins
nap in the branches of the blooming buds,
but awakened by the voices of vibrant youths.
The young nuns in black attire, cross the voice-filled street
of vendors and buyers, they can't be late for The Lord's Passion;
punctuality counts, it's a creed they firmily believe with conviction,
which is not found in souls that aren't so meek.
In this southern, friendly town faith matters more than wealth:
their devotion to Christ is that spring that never stops flowing...
it's passed from mother to daughter and son: it's following
the Cross until they reach the steps of the crowded church.
The middle-aged priest stands in the doorway and greets them all,
such a fervent faith is too undeniable in the faithful's overjoyed eyes...
Christ's life was given up for all sinners: poor, rich, big and small;
the Blessing of the Cross is an emotion deeply felt in grateful hearts.
This peaceful town at the foot the mountains dazzles in the mild noon,
the balmy breeze coming from the North brings in the fragrance of pines;
who was born here, will return and dwell in this valley of sacred shrines,
can all the wonders he saw be as enchanting as the midnight argent moon?
Written on 5/16/2017
listen
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=NtbunQgEi_0
marooned …
she looked sad
when I stopped her
the action of a theory
almost mad as sure
determination grows
four . identification
a matter of when
we show
unification . politico
perfectus to socio
… it’s the order she knows
a pandora . a where now
of why she goes . she echoes
of bio . psyche . technico
the sixth
a scent undeniable
and undetectable
but for the few
….
she looked up
and knew
in his eyes
the truth
.
I’m out of time
genetically modified
to not show
and I’m rogue
….
stunned
and in stereo
her voice within him
let his mind say go
and she was gone
a para . sight
of entangled song
.
the names Callisto
she drove on
as he watched her
fade to colors unseen
” it’s where I’ve been “
he could hear her
a new horizon
unknown of when
she’d return
.
lines of dimension
distort in a form
unmentioned
a storm of disorder
in a Jovian doam
.
her intention
is to move in time
inspired by
Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said
Philip K Dick
" and I don’t know why "
Birth Of The Askance
The odor of the cigarette scent lingered in my room
Some silence was even impossibly heard
Though unseen, felt was the vastly eyes of the moon
Seemingly awaiting, for a much awaited word
Times like this, the shadowing walls dances of death
Darkly hidden yet was careful to still be felt
Will the dance begone, shall breathe my last of breath?
Yet I voice not for the aid of help
It becomes a need or rather a desire
Be it shadows or some nightly spirits to just take me away
An urging lust burns with alluring fire
I fear not death, but to live another day
How much longer before the next coming hour
I close my eyes, listening to the ticks… then counting
Yet the clock ticks unevenly with an uneven number
And the time that struck, was an unearthly thirteen
Upon hearing the awakening chants from the fallen angels
Shadows amongst dissolve most immediately into the dark
A pair of green illuminates beyond the children of the devil
And having found was but tranquil in my heart
The lyrical incantations grew increasingly loud
And the fallens cleared a path to welcome their Great One
When finally he emerge, spanning his wings so proud
And a moment more, the unbearable echoing became calm
“Of those who knew, lies a few
A prophecy is proven true
Why yearn for death, if death itself will find its way?
Is death no longer feared as of ancient yesterday?
Yet this hex, bridges one of many reasons we encountered tranquil
Already an ill-fated destine, before even our meeting is fulfill
The only difference is… I now speak without a voice
Yet to you, perhaps fortunate to still be engiven a choice
The time has come for me to reveal the forbidden
An undeniable sin, which is meant entirely to be forgotten”
{It never did occur what fresh air was smelt like
There were only the stains of blood and bones of white
The wasteland bore grounds of ancient tombs
Everywhere the promising of life and death were always soon
Bodies of uncountable thousands lay either wounded or dead
Those dying were not rejuvenated, those living lay low on their heads
Every light only births a new beginning
Every night only promises a new awakening…
have I ever told you that... a picture crystallized in my heart~
an evening, mesmerizing starlit sky,
two youngsters ~ ardently absorbed in each other.
you narrated an entire story ~ with so much zeal~
a spellbound account of love and loss - did not have slightest idea what loss really meant!
I was a captive listener!
what magic did you instill with your hypnotizing voice?
became a priceless memory I could never erase.
have I ever told you that ...I remember an evening of strolling back together
by a desolate narrow village-street...from a favourite musical...
dark noiseless night.. stars mysteriously blinking...
tall trees apprehensively watching,
just the two of us... didn’t hold hands,
walking straight into the night...as if in a trance..
the sight never faded away!
have I ever told you that ...a miraculous evening ~ never slipped away
in front of a mighty waterfalls, an undeniable witness of our bond,
raining uninterrupted...rain and the falls...flooded, drenched both of us,
never witnessed pouring rain the way I did...
my heart never pulsated like the way it did..,
a ruby-crowned kinglet crooned inside me,
heart leapt and almost burst with a sensation of craziest happiness,
rapt with profound sadness..
with the anticipation of losing you.
Reminiscences transformed into.... dreams~
one pearl gets found from thousands of seashells, found my pearls in the ocean of memories.
November 4, 2020
For "Have I Ever Told You That" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Lawless
I remember the rumble
It seemed so distant at first, a whisper in this urban jungle
No one seemed to notice it
There was no proof,no broken glass, no fires lit
I remember the sound of it
It was like a earthquake that moved the entire continent of consciousness
While keeping everything in place
Our morals and ethics drifted further away
As we ran our rat race
I remember the thought of it
The pocket watch of tension winding us up
Unable to see who it is winding
People begin to shout, act out, and cut up
As if they were out of timing
I remember the feeling of it
Bit by bit we became disjointed from one another
No longer anointed, we quickly moved to strike down a brother
A sister, a mother, a child. We forever will walk that green mile
Yet somehow do it all with an Instagram smile
I remember the taste of it
Hypocritically bitter with a hint of lemon
As the clean rights of women get trampled and hidden
Plato's guardians only protect themselves
Those of the wealthy and those who will never tell
I remember the smell of it
Was that tear gas, a train crash, or just normal pollution?
We smell our bottled water before we drink it, hoping its the solution
Like paper mache plaster on this ecological disaster we call home
If we pay enough money, maybe we can live in a dome
I remember the sight of it
Now undeniable, issues too big to make just one liable
Its too big to fail, but not fair enough to be viable
Violence is common language, truth is in disrepair
Illusion tasty like candy, vying to be our next heir
Yet I remember
At first they came for them, and we said nothing
We became divided and chided the idea of one house of something
Where everyone is community, strangers and enemies too
All we have left now is fragments of the new rule
And the rumble. Can you hear it?